#and that he truly doesn't know them any more

[that-dumb-moth]

Okay, so, fucking PSA. Please read if you're interested in helping either Robert Kurvitz, the Disco Elysium team, or the Internet Archive:

DO NOT CLAIM THAT KURVITZ UPLOADED A COPY OF DISCO ELISYUM ON THE INTERNET ARCHIVE, REPORT THE UPLOAD, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Internet Archive:

I'm a person that enjoys community projects like the Internet Archive. They hold crucial positions in public knowledge and do not deserve to be labeled "piracy dens" and do not deserve the legal difficulties associated. By sharing copies of software whose copyright holders still actually care instead of reporting them, you are putting the Internet Archive at risk. Once the Internet Archive gets sued into oblivion, you will no longer have the wayback machine, thousands of copies of scans of rare books and boxes will be lost, and endless piles of abandonware trapped in long outdated storage mediums and standards will no longer be used again. And even worse, once corporations learn that legal pressure is enough to take out public knowledge, they will press down hard on services like the ones Wikimedia offers (that includes wikipedia if you're unaware). Say goodbye to the crowdsourced knowledge of old, and hello to corporate refined knowledge, likely alot of which is AI generated.

Robert Kurvitz

Robert Kurvitz has a very poor relationship with ZA/UM and thus, it doesn't take long to tie a motive to him publishing pirated copies of DE. And as he's the one with the motive and not Internet Archive, it's entirely possible legal action could be pointed at Kurvitz instead or worse, also. And that's where the problem occurs... people keep claiming the file was uploaded by Kurvitz himself. But that's a claim made by the uninformed. The way the Internet Archive works is that each file uploaded is primarily credited to their original authors with credit to the uploader placed to the side. However, people sharing the file are claiming that, due to a misunderstanding, Kurvitz is the one who uploaded the file. When in reality, it was a person using a pseudonym. This simple mistake can undoubtedly prove disastrous.

The DE Team

There's no doubt that the team behind DE were immensely fucked over. And we truly need to fight against that scumbaggery. So, how do you support the DE team? First off, don't pay for DE. And if you're not willing to go to the greynet, just don't fucking play the game. I'm sorry, but hosting pirated games on honest sites like the IA just causes more trouble than needed. Also, please, do not share links to pirated copies and more importantly, don't try claiming the devs endorse piracy. Even if they do. Corporations are little shits that like to sue you over everything.

I don't know if any of that makes any sense. But thank you anyways for reading this.

[midnight-mourning]

Roses are Red

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 2💘💘

I was feeling, something, when I wrote this, and by that i mean lots of flirting and such ajsldkfjklsjdf

Prompt: Gardeners Sun and Moon preparing a special bunch of roses for their dear Y/N and hiding an engagement ring in a single special rose. Y/N happily saying yes and giving the boys a smooch!

Word Count: 2403

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

You stand by the kitchen door, hand on your hip and brow raised. 

"This again?" You ask the moon-themed bot in front of you, as he leans one elbow on the counter. Awkwardly, mind you, with his height. 

He shrugs, despite very clearly blocking the door to outside. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Sweet."

You cross your arms, nodding to behind him. "Okay, then may I get past you to go outside?"

"Why bother?" He tsks. "Dreadful weather today, wouldn't you rather stay inside?"

You wrinkle your nose. "No. I think it's a lovely morning actually, based on how sunny it is, and the nice breeze coming in through the window. I'd like to read my book on the swing." 

You'd gotten up extra early for exactly this reason. You were hoping if you woke up just a bit sooner, you could sneak out and enjoy the garden as you'd so been hoping to. It was a bit frustrating that you had to put it that way. 'Sneaking out' of your own home. But that's what it had come to at this point. 

Loved them as you did, but your gardeners had been exceedingly... difficult over the course of the last month or so. Despite the spring months finally being upon you, the prime time to truly enjoy the garden and appreciate their hard work, you'd been banned from the space entirely. 

Keep in mind, they were always bashful when it came to their work, and would sometimes not let you see their handiwork in the early days of spring since it wasn't 'complete' until all the flowers bloomed. This was different however, as you hadn't been barred from seeing the castle gardens just mere yards from your residence, nor the plants being tended to in the greenhouse.

No, it was specifically what they were working on in your garden—the walls far too high for you to peek over, unfortunately—where the source of your woes lied. Apparently. They were being incredibly secretive about the whole affair, going so far as to deny outright that you were banned from your own space.

Or in this case, making excuses. 

"Ah, but the weather could change at any time. Surely you'd rather not take the risk and spend your time doing something else?"

You lean back on the kitchen counter. "Like?"

"Reading your book inside, of course." Moon nods, straightening and walking over to you. "Even better, you can read it to me, out on the parlor couch, perhaps. I could hold you, or better yet, you could hold me. I've a terrible crink in my neck that only resting in your lap can resolve I fear. What do you say?"

You tilt your chin up as he now stands in front of you, towering over you even when he sets his hands on the counter on either side of you. Not so subtly blocking you in. 

You hum. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Sun can handle himself for a bit, and really I think I've more than earned a morning's rest." He leans down so your faces are only a few inches apart. "You wouldn't deny your poor Beloved a break, Star. Right?"

You huff, though the temptation to take him up on his offer—and more—was at an all time high. "Beloved is a bit of a stretch at the moment."

"Is it now—" Just as the gap was about to close between you, Moon is gone. He makes a strangled noise of surprise as he's yanked back by a half-gloved yellow hand.

Sun releases him after a moment, cheery as can be. "More than earned a morning's rest, hm? Last I recall you didn't spend six hours potting pansies without a break, did you?"

Moon grumbles, but doesn't retaliate further than that. 

Before you can say anything, Sun turns to you, seeming to know what you were going to say. "The garden is off limits for the time being, Sunbeam. I might suggest the castle grounds for a good location instead. Once we've finished up here this morning I'd be happy to join you. I'll even bring lunch if you'd like." He finally finishes putting on his glove, adjusting his work apron. 

"And just where do I fit into that scenario?" His counterpart asks, searching around for his own outerwear.

Sun's grin widens further, eyes upturned crescents. "Why, you'll be busy trimming the hedges that you've been putting off all week, of course."

"That all sounds lovely, though I do feel bad for Moon." You step closer to the sunny animatronic, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. "But I do have to press you on the reason for why I can't access part of my own home. Which you live in, mind you."

He sadly doesn't buy into your scheme, hand cupping your cheek as his rays click. "You'll find out soon enough. No need to go spoiling the surprise at this time. Go enjoy your morning, Love." He presses a kiss to your forehead and you scoff lightly, despite the heat rising to your cheeks. 

"Fine. But no more putting mud on the windows, while I'm gone. Makes me feel like I'm living in a cave." You hadn't expected them to go to such lengths, though knowing them you weren't surprised either. 

"No promises~"

Later on in the day you do in fact, enjoy a picnic with Sun, Moon nearby as he begrudgingly trims hedges. Though, another week goes by, and you still can't enter the garden. Not to mention, the flirty banter you typically so easily exchange has dropped to practically nothing. 

Your advances are avoided, to the point you can hardly even get a goodnight or good morning kiss. Which, given that you were used to being overwhelmed with affection, being underwhelmed is, incredibly deflating. So, you decide to change your tactic. 

You wait until one of them is alone, in this case Sun, to strike. While he may act very blunt and avoidant with Moon around, alone you think you can get him to slip up and finally tell you what they're up to. 

You find him on a quiet rainy afternoon hard at work in the greenhouse. The rain pitter-patters softly against the glass far above, the space cast in a bit of shadow from the grey sky and plants that are all encompassing throughout. 

He's at a workbench, tending to a group of sickly looking hydrangeas when you find him. He jumps a fraction when your arms wrap around him, head resting on his shoulder as you watch him work. 

"Oh, hello, Starlight. What brings you here in these conditions?" Despite the evenness of his tone you can hear a tinge of anxiety underneath. 

Your hands shift to slide across his arms, causing him to freeze at your touch. "Was curious about you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Well, as you can see, I'm simply just—" He hesitates as you turn to kiss one of his rays. "B-busy. Would hate for these hydrangeas to wither away because of a lack of care."

You chuckle, kissing him again. "I suppose so. What a pity." Just as he turns to face you, you pull back from him, moving to sit on the workbench instead. 

"Something else you need, Sweetpea?" Sun chuckles nervously, you can see the smallest hint of steam arising from him.

You have to smother your smirk to keep your own composure. "Nope, just want to watch you work is all. Don't mind me."

"Ah, of course."

For several minutes there's nothing but muted clinking and such as Sun works, posture stiff as you keep your eyes—and hands—on him. Just simple little touches, traces patterns on his forearms or handing him things every so often. It only spurs you further as you notice your plan is working, the flustered avoidance you'd been experiencing is now just fluster, and you see your chance. 

"You know. There is something else I'm thinking you could help with." You reach out and cup his chin. "If you're willing, that is."

You see his rays flutter just a tad. "That so?" 

"Mhm. It'd be really easy for you to do too. And if you do, I might have something for you in return." You lean in, just hovering your lips above his smile. 

He chuckles, eyes-lidded. "A trade then? I'm certainly not opposed."

"I was hoping you wouldn't be. Now, close your eyes—hey!" You're suddenly plucked off the bench and hauled over a shoulder by blue and white hands. Quickly marched away from a startled and utterly confused Sun, as you see when you glance back. 

Moon sets you down by the door to the greenhouse, displeased grin on his features. "Dirty tricks like that belong in the garden, Moonflower."

"Well, I'm not allowed in the garden, so I had to resort to other locations." You huff, brushing off your clothes. "Was that really necessary?"

He bends to your level, eye to eye and inches apart. "It was."

"You're not on my kiss list now, I hope you know that." 

Moon's hands cup your cheeks, faceplate spinning once. "What a shame then, that you're on mine."

He kisses you once, then steps back. 

"Tomorrow, if the weather clears up, tomorrow you can go in the garden as you choose. I promise." His thumb rubs against your cheek, troubled look in his eyes before he shakes his head. 

You keep your frown, despite the heat on your face, and nod. "Tomorrow, then."

You stomp out of the greenhouse and into the rain in the hopes of making it clear your resolve is temporary. In reality you think it just makes you cold, and wet. 

But, the next morning the sun peeks through the clouds and after a brief and somewhat quiet breakfast, your gardeners finally relent. 

While you're beaming with excitement, they both seem nervous as can be. You're so caught up in all the activities you wish to do that you're only half catching the anxious looks and fidgeted movements they share between each other. 

Sun's hands are clasped in front of him as he speaks. "We're sorry it's taken so long, Love. We had several setbacks—" He sends a glare to Moon, who shrugs. "But, we hope you like it."

"And if you don't, just keep it to yourself." Moon's hand rests on your shoulder with a snicker, though there's still that nervous hint to his tone. 

You scoff at the two of them. "I always love what the two of you create. Regardless of whether it's for me or anyone else." 

With a final sigh, Sun steps out of your way and you all but skip over to and out the door, the warm morning light hitting your skin like an embrace. The garden sparkles from the dew and the day prior's rain. All across—

"Roses?" You ask, in awe at the sheer abundance of them. 

Several varieties and colors cover the expanse of the garden, from the edges to the center. Every flower bed is filled to the brim with them. Yes, there's the typical flowers and bushes they plant as well, sprinkled in here and there. Primarily, however, are the roses. 

You walk through the grass with a sense of curiosity at the scenery around you. It's breathtaking, but not the least bit suffocating. Brimming with life, but not crowded. It was, in a way, perfect. 

Though, you don't understand why they tried so hard to hide this from you. Yes, it was stunning, but the secrecy you just couldn't—

As you turn around again, you see the two of them standing there, together, with a large bouquet in their hands. It consists of bright yellow and deep purple—near black—roses. 

"These are for you, if you hadn't already guessed." Moon's gaze is elsewhere as he holds the flowers out with his counterpart. 

Sun's rays are spinning quickly as you flick your gaze to him, he coughs and also looks away. "We, we hope it's to your taste. We got what we thought would suit you best."

You're too stunned to really think on the words. "Oh, these are, incredible." You say, gently taking the neatly wrapped bouquet from them. "For me, really? You didn't need to—"

Inspecting the flowers closer, you realize that in the center of the cluster, there's something shimmering in the middle of a rose. This one is different from all the others. Its center is yellow, but the outer petals expand out into that deep violet, with speckles of contrast all throughout. Lying in the very center however, is a ring. 

It clicks then for you. 

"This needed to be special, to show how much you mean to us, hence all the preparation." Sun states. 

Moon continues. "An ordinary flower wouldn't do you justice, nor would an ordinary proposal. The garden served as the best place to refine both."

You nod slowly, feeling a little more than just choked up. 

"Is, are you, will you—" Sun stops himself. 

"Would you do these two humble fools the honor of having your hand?" Moon asks. 

"Yes, that."

You nod again, quicker now, face on fire and tears pricking your eyes. "Yes, yes, absolutely yes!"

Before either can react you shift the bouquet so you can grab them both by their shirts, planting a kiss to each of their smiles several times. 

Breathless, you pull back to hug them both. "I would have taken just a simple stroll by the lake, you didn't have to go through all this trouble just for me. But know I appreciate it more than anything. Thank you, I love you. So, so much."

Based on the clicks and whirls that emit from the two of them, and the bits of steam, you think they're as overwhelmed as you in that moment. Sun's lop-sided grin and Moon's half-lidded daze makes you chuckle. 

"Duly noted." Sun states. 

Moon nods. "Don't spend four years seeding, growing, and experimenting with roses next time. Understood."

"Four years?" Your brows shoot up. "But we met just roughly four years ago."

"We know. We started on this about a week in."

At this you shake your head, laughing outright. You give them another kiss, and revel in that moment. 

It's going to be one you cherish for years to come.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the lovely request @amarynthian-chronicles!! I love how you always write the boys with a sense of whismy and charisma so I tried to channel that for this hehe ^^

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[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

Interesting that you bring that up, because I think it ties into a different Jason post I made once. You don't have to read all of that, the important part is this:

i think thats my favorite thing about the red hood. he pulls people out of the abyss. he never steps entirely out of the shadows himself, but he will extend a hand to someone else, until they can get their own grip and climb past him. he did it with roy and kori, and with the random pyg minion in batman reborn, and with duela dent, and suzie su, and bunker, and ma gunn, and in a way even his own father. he does it all the time, and i love him for that.

That post is in regards to the (eventual) conclusion to the Duela Dent arc, where Jason helps her unjokerfy and go back home. Because it really is a theme we see! I don't think DC did it intentionally, especially since half of these happened during Scott Lobdell's runs and I don't think the man did anything except throw spaghetti at a wall in the hopes that it would stick, but it's become a theme. (....Scott Lobdell also had the Generation Outlaw storyline that he didn't fucking land or conclude in any satisfying way, but that's a rant for a different day).

Anyway, the point is that yeah, in some ways Jason DOES still have to choose. A lot of the storylines he has are with people who do, eventually, decide to be less morally gray. And that's just something he doesn't do. Or, if he somehow did, if he TRULY came back into the light, he would ABSOLUTELY lose the ideological purity that drove him in the UTRH era. I'm not saying it's not possible for someone to stay with him in his moral gray zone or even in his True Villain Zone, but there is actually an interesting tragedy in the fact that no one does, because it kind of highlights the point of his character--which is that he KNOWS BOTH SIDES and he CHOOSES to stay somewhere between them. He wavers sometimes in canon, moves more toward one side or the other, but so far he always returns to that gray zone, consistently, every single time.

Comics are, in a lot of ways, black and white. Questions of morality are almost always framed in what is right and what is wrong. Characters are good or bad. Things are mutually exclusive. I don't think it's impossible to find the balance, but IMO it would be much trickier to make it work, especially in canon. To find that balance and make it truly compelling would need some significant skill. We would need someone who was truly okay to live in that gray zone, but whose values wouldn't turn out to be incompatible (which is often, I think, why he and Rose don't usually work out when they're put together. Rose WOULD be that character, but I just don't think they're sustainable, generally speaking).

With that in mind, I can see why it's usually the Batfam that he returns to in search of family. He doesn't want things that are fleeting. He doesn't want "well, we can put Joker in Arkham until his next breakout", he wants the Joker DEAD. And he really doesn't want the people in his life to give up on him!! He WANTS both. NEEDS it, maybe. Even as far back as UTRH we saw this tension. Jason is holding VERY tightly to his ideals in that comic, and still he all but begs Bruce to join him so that he can have both. His origins will always be most deeply rooted in the Batfam. But maybe that brings a different sort of tension to the question--one having to do with whether a fan wants Jason to keep hold of his history, his roots, and find the permanence that Bruce promised when he took Jason in... or if they want him to give that up and forge a new future with a new family.

Jason really is, IMO, about tension. Not just in the conflict sense, though he does tend to bring tension and conflict to interactions. But thematically, his character and his arcs are filled with themes that constantly pull him in opposing directions. Even the dichotomy of the poverty he faced as a child versus the abundance of living with a millionaire is like that. In a lot of ways, canon tells us that he really just can't have everything he wants. So the question is... what does he have to give up?

i’m starting to realize there are at least two camps of jason todd fans. 

there are the ideological campers, who took under the red hood and ran with it.  the ones who believe whole-heartedly that jason todd is a character with a moral stance–counter, perhaps, to the man who raised him and the monsters that shaped him, but extant, all the same.  these people see jason shucking his ideals in canon and scoff, saying that it is a loss of integrity and a tragedy of what was good characterization. 

and then there are the emotional campers.  the ones who saw jason todd’s pain, his desire for a family who loved him enough to act as executioner.  it wasn’t an ideological purity that drove him–it was the emotional one, the familial one, and these people see jason struggling to mend bridges once burned and cheer him onward.  the ones who desperately want to see him shed his lone wolf persona and really, truly, become a part of the family.

in some sense, it ends up being a question of how faithful to the original characterization you want to be.  when jason is the villain and often when he’s the outlaw, he is antithetical to batman by nature.  he grips his pain and grief in his hands and uses it to act, same as batman, but in a diametrically opposed way.  in order to hang onto this, to keep this opposition in place, he cannot have his family.  but in order to have his family, to change from what he once became, he cannot have his ideals.

and i think it’s neat, because both of these camps want jay to succeed, you know?  but the question lies in whether they want that success to be in ‘cleansing gotham’/‘ridding the world of that which hurt him so no one else can be hurt’, so that he might save the world…

…or if they want it to be just him, reaching out a hand to someone and asking to be lifted up, so that he might save himself.

[utilitycaster]

The identity erasure in fandom is so exhausting.

I feel like someone could write a thesis specifically about Zac Oyama’s characters being pushed into queer/ nd stories by fandom without any regard to the actual textual stories of racism, model minorities, and othering that often arise from Zac’s work.

Like I can find hundreds of Gorgug/ Zelda/ Ragh fics and fics about Gorgug being autistic and only a handful that engage with Gorgug’s race. And actually, you’re just as likely to see a fic about fantasy racism towards Riz, which. Is not the story being told.

Truly wild.

You know, this is really fascinating to me both because I tend to only see the most ridiculous discourse coming from D20 and I don't read fic, but also despite neurodivergence being not uncommon among peole in fandom, as I said, people acted like Travis Willingham was too stupid to play a druid as recently as late 2021 (even after he'd played a hexadin). It's gotten much better and more AP actors have openly talked about having ADHD (Travis McElroy, Aabria Iyengar, Siobhan Thompson, Taliesin Jaffe, Ashley Johnson) which I think forced people to consider what ADHD looks like but now it's kind of become a new "oh this character is LIKE ME" thing where basically anything can be used as evidence, which is fine for headcanons but becomes a problem when you ignore the identities you don't personally have.

But yeah, Zac in particular gets treated terribly - I haven't seen people be as awful to Lou despite him also being a man of color (though I have seen people be weird about him not necessarily choosing to play fat characters and it's like idk man why do you feel he's obligated to play characters that represent you, especially since he does clearly choose to consistently play black characters?) but a lot of people ignore that yeah, Zac has consistently played Japanese characters whenever they've been in a real-world-inspired setting, and that Gorgug is a half-orc living with gnomish parents who is curious about his parentage and who ends up pursuing artificing like his adoptive parents and feels like a very meaningful exploration of being multiracial. I do, for what it's worth, think there is textual exploration of anti-goblin racism in the first season that isn't really followed up on...but it's kind of telling that also, Gorgug isn't canonically queer and Riz is, and Riz is played by a white actor.

I would like to see someone, actually, do an academic exploration of everything talked about here because it's like:

Is this character, in-world, textually an oppressed identity (Fjord, Molly)

Is this character portrayed, in-world, as being of an identity that is oppressed in our world but is not in their world (eg, Beau being a nonwhite human lesbian in a world that doesn't really have color-based racism, usually favors humans, and doesn't have homophobia)

Is the character portrayed by an actor with an oppressed identity (Zac is nonwhite, Ally is trans, etc)

Is this actor a person with an identity shared by their character (ie, Lou and Aabria usually play black characters but those characters do not necessarily experience racism in their world - Fabian doesn't but Kingston would as does Eursolon; Deanna and Suvi don't - if I'm wrong bc I'm behind on WBN sorry)

If a character has multiple identities, which one are people connecting to and which are they ignoring?

If a character is, for example, played by an (afaik) straight cis nonwhite man and played as a straight cis nonwhite man (Ricky Matsui as played by Zac) do people headcanon them as being more like themselves to make them more relatable? Does this happen more with nonwhite characters given the heavily white AP audience?

If a character's race in a fantasy world is metaphorical, do they care about it? when and how?

anyway. much to think about.

[amatun28]

My Top best BTS members fic in my whole fanfic reading journey. ( ao3, YT, Wattpad, tumblr) [Part:01]

🌸These fanfics have my whole heart. The amount of happiness,emotion,nostalgia i felt its beyond unimaginable. I will cherise those fics until the end of my life. Thank you of all those writer who britten my day with their incredible talent and creativity. 🌸

🌺Long thread ( please read the review with patience)🌺

💐Author💐

1. Rafae's fiction on YT

My fanfic journey started with YT. I know many of us doesn't read yt fanfic, although we have solid reason not to do. Some of us also think yt fanfic means cringy type of fic. But trust me Rafae is a gem. Like she is truly exceptional. She has a strong aura that anyone can be captivated.

🍁Her stories🍁

◼Throne [ Taehyung fanfic ] by Rafae on YT

Genre: Royal au, arranged marriage, Angst (so much angst), smut, romance, fluff, happy ending. [completed]

Summary : A story of Royalty. A Periodic tale of three kingdoms. A tale of kings and Queens. " Throne" Is a story that had everything; Love, loyalty, friendship, betrayal, evilness, partition, pain, suffering, development, empowerment and devotion. A tale that takes the Romance to different level after passing through the stages of love. A tale of a Queen, more than a King. A tale of woman who proved that there is nothing stronger in this world than a broken woman. The Queen who teaches us to look in the eyes of demons and say Here I am standing, come and try to break me.

-Review:

[Must read] : The first thing I will say is it's not the typical type of fanfic people usually read, where the female lead is always weak or submitted to the male lead. This fanfic will change someone's perspective on women. And about the male lead, he is so caring and soft-spoken when it comes to his woman, sweet, with a strong moral compass and leadership like a full package. His character is so beautifully written that you will feel pain in your heart thinking, In real life, why do these kinds of men not exist? This story also has many different side characters, and each character has a different story, and each of them is so painfully beautiful. This series has 100 episodes. I had never seen any YT fanfic this long. Even the epi time is also very long, about 25-30 mins. Some of you will think that its 100-episode series might be boring, but trust me, not a single episode of this series is boring. Every episode is packed with suspense, emotion, and breathtaking plot twists that will leave you on the edge of your seat. And the best part? The storytelling is so vivid that it feels like watching a historical K-drama unfold right before your eyes. If you read the story, you will see the mention of 3 kingdoms that were actually from the Korean map that ruled ancient time Korea during the Three Kingdoms Period. So just go give it a chance; I must say you won't regret it. Also, the BGM of this series is like a full chef's kiss. 🤌

[Note: There are some grammatical mistakes in this series. The author had to upload one EP every Tuesday of the week. On YT after uploading the EP, she couldn't even edit the episode. Otherwise, all of the things are so perfect, so just dig in. ☺]

▪🍁[Jungkook fanfic]🍁

◼ [Reading between the lines] by anonymous on (ao3)

Genre: kinda enemies to lovers au,University au, slow burn, fluff, Smut, also jungkook is so sweet:( [completed ]

Summary: You're an art student beginning your final year at university, and the assigned partner for thesis project? Much to your dismay, it's Jeon Jungkook. You don't like him — he doesn't seem to try very hard, and besides, he's on the soccer team, and you don't really get along with athletes.

Thanks to a lack of available models and a shortage of studio space, you end up spending a large portion of your semester locked in a tiny closet with Jungkook, where you eventually discover he's nothing at all like you originally thought.

-Review:

Plz this is so good. Like so so so good.😭 you have to read this. The slow burn, the tension, the way their relationship grows. This kind of books will make your chest hurt (in a good way). And about Jungkook, i hopelessly inlove with his character. Also the pace of love-story was perfect like PERFECT. I will never forget the emotion and butterfly i felt reading this. Also the smut 👌💋. So just go and read this. A must read.

◼ Phycho by @moonchiiild_ on wattpad

Genre: Personality disorder au (reader), established relationship, romance, angst, happy ending [ completed]

Summary: You are wounded and broken. Laughing at scars was your habit, but tending your wounds was his speciality. Some may call Jeon Jungkook a perfect man to exist, but you knew your husband better than that; if you were his Bonnie, he is your Clyde. Psycho, maniac, insane. World called you many names, but your husband calls you his wife and stands beside you when no one dares. Jungkook is your possession, your medicine. The world may have rejected a bitch like you, but it takes only one person to snatch the monster out of you.

-Review:

Masterpiece the only word go to this series. This book is mix of suspense, romance. The first chapter of this book got me chokehold and there was no way escape of this. I just can't stop thinking about this. The characters are so good specially jungkook, this man is embodiment of all my fantasies here. After reading this story the only thing you will say that if i can't find any man like Jungkook in this book then i dont want any man. Like He is the STANDARD. Also there was so much angst on this book. But in the end its all worth it :(((

▪🍁[Taehyung fanfic]🍁

◼ Perpetual Rain by @NovainRose_ on wattpad

Genre: Slow brun, some fluff, angst, Smut, Reaper au, kinda time travel au?? [ completed ]

Summary: A troubled - soon to be - college girl is ravaged by uncontrollable hallucinations that she can't explain. Making an unexpected friendship with a stranger she met on the street but, he has secrets of his own. "Seriously, you've got me worried." His hands pressed into the tables brim, ready to get up at any second. "You barely even know me, why are you so worried?" You stared at him, irritated and confused. He was so persistent! "Is it bad for someone to care? Even if it's for a stranger?" Dark brown eyes narrowing and chest-nut hair cast to the side with a tilt of his head. "Just trust me." But, could she?

-Review:

I am whipped; I am just WHIPPED. It's such a beautifully written, deeply emotional journey filled with longing, love, and pain that lingers like the scent of the rain on a stormy night. This book still haunts me like a nightmare. The writing is so mesmerizing. Also, this book is kind of atmospheric. There is also a 2nd part of this book called" Timeless Snow". But this book is really a slow burn, like really, really slow burn. So don't get frustrated. Just go and read; trust me, you will love it. This book is one of my the must-read books.

This is my first time posting on tumblr. And these fanfics are very close to my heart. If you love these stories then plz show lot of love to the original author of these stories. At the end of the day, fanfic writers rely on positive reviews from readers. Its make the original author happy. Also, if you love the recommendation, then please tell me also.😌 So that maybe i will also make the part 2 of my favourite fanfics. 👀

[loudn-mcyt]

I know this isn't new information but like. Ros and Pangi's parallels right now. Both lost their most important person on the same day. Both were the only one there to grieve them, while others of the realm cracked jokes and laughed at the deaths. Both ended up getting vengeance against the person whose tongue was the sharpest against the person they loved - Owen.

But now they're starting to diverge. Ros has the kingdom at her side, Sneeg and Clown and Foolish, and more importantly, she got Aimsey back. Sure, Aimsey came back wrong, but they came back, and they remember everything - it might be unsettling for Ros, it might feel wrong, but she still got Aimsey back. But Pangi hasn't gotten that. He's far more alone in this - he has Bad and Hannah, but it's not that ironclad support that Sneeg and Clown give to Ros. He doesn't get Mocha back, AND he gets slapped in the face by reminders of his presence, of farewells given to what feels like everyone but him. And the worst part is, he doesn't even get Mocha coming back wrong; whoever will replace Mocha, the next Pili to come, probably won't have any of Mocha's memories. Just his face, his eyes. All the reminders of someone Pangi loved. But not the person.

It's no wonder they're gravitating to each other. No matter what they say their motives are, I think they both recognize that they might be the only ones on the server right now who can truly understand the other's current feelings.

[thelonelyshore-if]

I was just thinking how would the Ro's deal with a Mc who believes in all the witch stuff and practices it. Like with all the crystals and tarot cards.

Ooooh I love this question!! Answers under the cut <3

Beck- totally neutral feelings. He doesn't really believe in magic, but he also doesn't write it off, either. He'd jokingly claim that he keeps his options open. As such, he'd treat a MC who practices witchcraft pretty much the same way he'd treat one who doesn't.

Croft- is deeply immersed in the occult, themself, and while that's not exactly the same thing they're similar enough that Croft fully would respect MC's beliefs and finds them interesting. Also they are 100% deeeep into tarot. They probably have a really lovely collection of decks.

Jay- would be the most uncomfortable with it. They were raised Catholic, and they have a huuuge mistrust of magic and the supernatural. Due to, you know. Their-Dad-Got-Disappeared reasons. But they also would understand that it's different and would try to adjust their perceptions.

Perri- they'd think it's cool and want to learn more, hands down. They're not the most spiritual person in the world, but they'd be very supportive and eager about it...though tarot specifically would make them a bit uneasy. They don't love the idea of knowing the future.

Ravi- neutral to positive. He's also very into the occult and used to be way more into witch-y sort of stuff when he was a teenager. While he isn't as into it now, he's still deeply interested in magic. He'd enjoy being able to bond over it a bit, and would be very supportive!

Yasmin- she'd also be fairly neutral on the subject, though she might struggle with validating MC's beliefs, since she doesn't really believe in any kind of magic/the supernatural at this point. She'd do her best to be supportive, but finds it all a little hard to truly believe in. Once she finds out about the fog, though? She'd be much more open-minded.

[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

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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

[literaryvein-reblogs]

A huge THANK YOU for the fantastic writing advice and resources you are creating and sharing. I'm reblogging almost all of your posta on my side blog, which is for storing writing advice, so I can easily come back to your wonderful pieces of advice whenever I need them. I can't begin to tell you how helpful your posts have been for me!

May I ask if you happen to have any tips on writing dialogue, where the POV character is not taking part in the exchange?

For example, Kali, the POV character, is in the room when Brim and Sheila have a conversation. Or maybe all three of them are having a conversation, which at one point becomes a conversation between Brim and Sheila, while the POV character is sort of left out of whatever affairs they have to discuss.

Do you have any advice or good practice examples on how to build such dialogue scenes so that it doesn't feel as if the POV character is too passive and in simply in the scene for the reader's convenience (so that the reader may listen in to what is being said).

Totally understandable if you don't have time for this and decide to disregard the ask. :)

Again, a million thanks for your wonderful blog!

Additional detail from your private message: "The POV character is narrating in third person. It's a close third person POV."

Close Third Person POV Dialogue

Third-Person Limited Point of View

(Often called a “close third”) When an author sticks closely to a single character but remains in third-person.

The narrator can do this for the entire novel or switch between different characters for different chapters or sections.

Allows the author to limit a reader’s perspective and control what information the reader knows.

Used to build interest and heighten suspense.

It is the most common POV choice in modern literature.

This narration adheres to a Sympathetic POV the way first person does, getting the reader inside that character's head but also allowing the depiction of reactions or other things the character isn't aware of.

If the pronouns could be changed to first person without losing any comprehension, this is the POV you're in.

Learning from The Classics. E.g., George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four:

The dialogue that follows between two men, and later, a third, does not include the POV character, who is reduced to a spectator:

After the altercation, we return to the POV character, Winston, then the narration provides more context on what just transpired:

Another Example: Lois Lowry's The Giver

The dialogue that follows among Lily, Father, and Mother, without the POV character's involvement, but we are aware that he is in the room, listening to the exchange:

After the dialogue, we return to the POV character, Jonas:

Examples from George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire:

Daenerys is an interesting example. Reading about descriptions of her from some other characters (who have mostly only seen her from afar or heard rumors and second-hand accounts about her), she gets painted as a bloodthirsty tyrant who has left Slaver's Bay in ruins and is possibly as mad as her father. Reading her POV, we see she's sane, albeit naïve, and is truly compassionate and well-intentioned in her actions; unfortunately, her good intentions tend to horribly backfire due to mistakes or sheer bad luck.

Cersei is actually something of an aversion; while the audience finally gets a look at the childhood prophecy which has shaped her entire life through fear, we also get a look at her utter hostility — such as her silent fury during the marriage of Tommen and Margaery and her paranoid beliefs that anyone who opposes her is working with her enemies. Even in her own POV, she comes across as petty and selfish at best, and outright psychopathic at worst. Even as a child of ten, she was capable of arranging the murder of one of her best friends.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

With these examples, we see how some writers utilise similar techniques. Even though the POV character is not taking part of the interaction, they don't feel passive to the reader. We still feel their presence as an observer (like Winston in 1984 and Jonas in The Giver). In that moment, the POV character and the reader seem to merge. The authors simply allow the conversation/interaction to flow, thus writing the dialogue as normal, including more context either before or after (or both) the dialogue/interaction.

More: Writing Tips & References on Dialogue

Thank you so much for your kind words, really warmed my heart! You are so lovely. In addition to these examples, you can also look for sample dialogues in this POV in your favourite novels, or the ones you wish to emulate, for further inspiration. Hope this helps with your writing :)

[ashblooddragons]

This Mysterious Love (Chapter 9/?)

Series Masterlist

Daemons pov

I anxiously wait for the council meeting to begin. This is the earliest I ever been to one of these blasted meetings but Viserys sent a note saying today would be the day I truly am free of my blasted Bronze Bitch.

I'm already on my third glass of wine, the sweet tang of the honeyed wine hits my tongue. Though with each sip I find instead of soothing my nerves it is amplifying them. I keep wondering if Viserys changed his mind, perhaps burned the annulment papers so there would never be proof of them. Perhaps he changed my wife's mind. Too many possibilities run through my mind for me to truly celebrate.

I whip my head towards the door when they creak open only to find Otto walk in shutting the doors behind him. 

I see the look of shock wash over his face before he quickly covers it with his cold mask once more. 

“My Prince, what a surprise to see you here so early.” He says as he sets so papers on the table before taking a pot of ink and a quill that seems to be on its last legs out of his pocket. 

I presume he must be doing last minute paperwork before the meeting begins. Most likely things my brother should've done but neglected in favor of his idiot sculpture of Old Valyria. 

“Yes well I hear good news is to be spoken at this one. News worth my while for once.” I respond with a cocky grin that only deepens when I notice his scowl at my words.

“You are the Prince, the heir until the King deems otherwise or has a son. You should be here no matter what is spoken. Do you think I want to be here? I could be in my chambers reading poetry or philosophy with a glass of amber gold at my side. But I am here because it is my duty to the realm.”

I can't help but roll my eyes. Viserys has never seen me as his heir, he would rather have none than me. Seven hells he even made a deal so my first born son will sit the throne. Not me, never me. 

“Yes, well do tell my brother that for me. He doesn't care if I'm here, in fact he seems to prefer it if I were not.” I respond and from the sad sigh Otto releases I know I'm right.

“I cannot speak for your brother's thoughts. But I can speak of what I've observed. He wants you to be…compliant to his demands. He wants to seem strong in charge, even though you and I both know that isn't the case.” He says stopping when I let out a snort at the thought of Viserys seeming strong and capable. “And when you are in the room, the Lords turn to you. The mind of a warrior is ever helpful when one house declares war against the other. You know the people of Kingslanding and their needs, compassionate to those in need. Your brother is neither of those things. And seeing you have authority in a situation that he should be the powerful one in is well, frustrating to say the least.”

I freeze at his words, trying to find any jest in them only to find nothing but truth. 

“And how do you know this so well?” I ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“You seem to forget I myself am a second son. And yet I have more authority in all the Realms than my brother does even in our house. When I would visit he would be anything but kind. A snide comment here and a cruel look there. All because of one thing, the people turned to me for guidance instead of him. I am the Hand, it is only natural for them to want to know my opinion on matters. But my brother didn't see it that way. He saw his little brother try and take what is rightfully his. That is one of the many reasons I don't visit Oldtown anymore, that and too many memories.” He says before crumpling a paper and throwing it into the hearth. 

It is unsettling to realize I have more in common with this snake than I ever thought. I knew we were both ambitious but to hear him speak the same story I have went through so many times only for it not to be mine but his. Well it leaves a pit in my stomach.

But I then pick up his last words. ‘That and too many memories’. And there is only one clear answer. His wife. And I realize that they married in the Starry Sept, they had all their children in Oldtown, and the day she died he was preparing to visit Oldtown in hopes of his wife's health improving. No wonder he doesn't want to visit, there truly are too many memories. 

I go to speak when the doors open once more and the chatter of the other councilman fills the room. I watch as Lord Corlys and Lord Lyonal whisper amongst each other, I know Lord Strong is helping Colrys with having Laena become Queen though as far as I'm aware, that will never happen. 

And just when they all are about to sit my brother enters the room Rhaenyra grumbling beside him. From the scowl on his face I assume he had to drag her here again. 

“My Lords, good morrow.” Viserys says as we all stand in a show of respect. I never quite understood this rule but I know it will get me in more trouble than it's worth to stay seated. 

“Your Grace.” They all say as one with a bow of their heads. 

I wonder how often they say this for them to be so uninformed. Perhaps I should be here more often. I think before taking my seat eyeing my brother for the annulment papers. 

“You said you had news on your decision for your heir, Your Grace?” Lord Corlys speaks with a curious look in his eye. 

My brother shifts in his seat like a toddler about to be scolded. Gods we picked him to rule the seven Kingdoms. I think with a exasperated sigh. 

“Uh, yes. Though I know it's an unorthodox plan it is the one that will be set.” He starts before setting my annulment papers on the table. I can tell he has signed it for no one has worse handwriting than my brother. I swear a drunk monkey would do better. 

“And what is this unorthodox plan, Your Grace?” Lord Beesbury asks as he shuffles his papers around taking in each expense my brother has demanded, more than likely for some feast or tourney. 

“As you all can see I have annulled my brother's marriage to the Lady Rhea Royce.” He starts when the men gasp before Lord Lyonal reaches for the papers to inspect them.

“That you have…Your Grace.” Strong says confirming to the rest that it is true. 

“What does your brother's annulment have to do with the situation with the heir?” Lord Corlys asks, holding his hand over his glass as Rhaenyra goes to pour. 

You would think the girl would realize he doesn't like to drink during council meetings and yet each time he must remind her at least twice. Speaking of my niece I can see a look of anticipation in her eyes. She no doubt thinks she will be named heir instead. 

“Because I do not plan to remarry.” Viserys finally says which makes the lords all erupt into chatter of how he must. “Yes! Yes, I know I should. But I just…can't, I can't remarry after feeling what I did with Aemma. I can't, I just can't.” 

Some of the lords still seem upset even calculated with this news when Rhaenyra sets her hand on her Father's shoulders. 

“Calm yourself.” She whispers. Before pouring more wine in his chalice. 

My brother takes a moment to breathe before looking at us all again, he seems more determined “So instead of remarrying and having a son, I have decided that the first son born from my brother will be heir and King once I'm dead and gone. Hence the annulment as my brother has made it abundantly clear to this council he will never bed his ‘Bronze Bitch’.” 

I can see this calms the lords, especially ones such as Corlys and Lyonal. I watch as their eyes glaze over and new plans form.

But just as I noticed the men calm I notice a certain Princess fume. Rhaenyra slams the pitcher of wine on the table staring down at her Father. 

“You would have your Nephew on the throne, before your own daughter?” I can hear the hurt in her voice, and I don't think anyone can blame her. All her life she was just a daughter while Viserys chased after a son. One he would kill her Mother to have and yet that boy still didn't make it. 

“It is the way of things Rhaenyra. I surpassed Rhaenys because I am a son. What would it look like to the realm and the lords who stood behind Rhaenys if I were to name you my heir? They would turn to Daemon anyways because my Father surpassed Rhaenys as well, establishing that an uncle comes before a daughter. Even King Jaehaerys surpassed his niece Aerea. This is the way of the world Rhaenyra.” Viserys says trying to reason with her but she only glares at him more. “What would you have me do? I have already decided not to marry again because you demanded it. I can not uproot the realm anymore than I have!” 

The council room falls silent, deathly so. No man is willing to step in and nor would we want to. Viserys has just spoken the words they all were wondering. Why he isn't marrying is because he can't say no to his spoiled little girl. 

Rhaenyra says nothing, only turns and leaves the chambers with a slam of the doors. I don’t think she realizes that waasn’t the swift and powerful exit she thought it would be, it only showed every council member that she truly isn’t fit for the role.

None speak only glaring each other's way. I know they all are judging my brother, because that is exactly what I am doing. 

He is a man with all the power in the realm, and yet he can't say no to his daughter. He speaks of peace but forgets that at times for peace you must have wars. He truly is nothing but a weak man unable to deny his little girl anything. 

It is Otto who initiates the meeting once more with a clear of his throat. 

“Perhaps the Princess just needs a breather. Let us continue.” 

Viserys nods, finally looking at the lords once more. From the way he winces he sees our judgmental looks but like always he does not speak on it.  “As I was saying, because of this my brother will be in need of a wife, and the sonner the better. Does anyone have objections to this plan of action?” 

Each lord stops to think for a moment when Otto finally responds. “You are right, it is unorthodoxed, but it may yet keep the realm from tearing itself apart. I see no issue with this, if you truly will never remarry.” 

Though I hate that Otto is in a way trying to take this from me, I understand it. There is no point in me courting and wedding his daughter if my brother will remarry. He may say he won’t now but that doesn’t mean the desire won’t come in the future. 

Viserys seems to think on this before saying once more, he will not remarry, not ever. 

“Then I say this is a fine plan.” Otto says before turning towards his fellow council members. 

I watch as one by one each gives a nod, if reluctantly. 

“Then it is settled, this meeting is over.” Viserys says before standing and leaving so quickly I would think my brother was running. 

I watch as each lord looks my way as if assessing me, I know why they want one of their daughters to be my wife. Too bad my Little Hightower has already taken that spot for herself, even if she doesn't know it yet. 

I walk quickly through the market square holding a bouquet of flowers. Thankfully I didn't need to find that maid as I quickly asked the Lord Hand what his daughters favorite flowers are. 

I could see the slight joy cross his face when I did, it was clear his daughter has yet to speak to him of our little trip to the Dragonpit. 

“Forget me not, and gardenias. Preferably together but likes them both separate as well.” 

Though at first I thought it an odd pairing, the small blue clusters pair perfectly with the soft white petals of the gardenias.and for some reason it reminds me of her, maybe because she is always in such soft and light colored dresses. So in contrast to my niece who prefers deep rich fabrics.  

Those two truly are an odd pair. I think as I walk up the steps to the Red Keep. 

I don't miss the way Lords whisper to their daughters, normal the way after those same girls push their cleavage down so their busts practically fall out of the dress. It's truly a pathetic though amusing sight. For these Father's take pride in their most pious daughters, but as soon as a Prince is available to wed then they are them harlots. 

Some of these ladies go as far as to pretend to drop something only to bend over showing their busts before slowly rising again. I would perhaps think it an accident if it weren't for the fact these ladies make sure to stare right at me. 

Yet again, pathetic to say the least of these Lords. 

I move about the Keep looking in all the places I can think of, I even tried that damned Sept. But my Little Hightower seems to have disappeared. 

I at times wonder if I should ask a passing maid but decide I haven't stooped that low. I finally decide to call it a day when the sun starts setting.

 I will just have to give the flowers to her on the morrow. I think with a frown as I climb the steps towards my chambers. 

But just as I'm about to reach the top of the stairs do I hear someone muttering to themselves. 

“Just tell him you can't continue, it's that simple.” 

I know the voice instantly, the softness of each word, how even when angered you can't help but smile at the sound of them. My Little Hightower is at my chamber door. 

But just as that answer comes does another arise. 

What does she mean by we can't continue? 

And with that thought I take the final steps watching as she lifts and then drops her closed fist mumbling mumbling herself. 

I can't help but think how cute it Is that she can't knock on my door without it becoming a blushing mess. 

“I do believe when you want to get someone's attention it's easiest to knock on the door.” I jest with a smirk as she whirls around to face me. 

“I thought–” She starts staring at me with wide doe eyes.

“I know what you thought, but while you were panicking over a closed door, I was searching for you as well.” I say walking towards as I try not to crush the bouquet when her scent of vanilla fills my lungs. 

“I need to talk to you.” She says picky at her nails. 

I notice how some are already raw and bleeding. I reach forward taking her hand in mine as I inspect her fingers. I swipe my thumb over them frowning when she hisses in pain. 

“Well I figured that out, why else would you be at my door?” I tease reaching for her other hand when I see her start to raise towards her lips. 

I can't help but smirk at how small her hands are compared to mine. But also how soft and delicate they are to my rough and calloused ones. 

I watch as she blushes at the contact but then she quickly straightens her shoulders and gives me a glare trying to reach her hands from mine. 

“You asked to court me, and yet you are a married man–” She starts but I quickly cut her off.

“I was a married man, the annulment went through just this morning. I have the papers if you wish to see.” I say letting go of her hands for all of a moment as I reach into my jerkin pocket handing her the finalized papers. 

She quickly opens them scanning over each word and signature. Once she sees everything she needs see she folds up the papers with a sigh of relief. 

“Still, you were married when you asked to court me. You could've ruined me more than I already am.” 

I think over her words before nodding my head. “I must admit, when I asked I was already planning on losing my wife, one way or the other. It didn't matter much to me, I figured it didn't to you either when you came.” I say with a nonchalant shrug.

She only sighs, shaking her head moving to move past me and down the steps when I catch her arm. 

“Though if you want an apology, then here it is. I'm sorry I made you feel misled or used. It wasn't my intention. And though this isn't what they were meant for I suppose they can work as an apology gift.” I say holding out the bouquet for her.

She stares at them wide eyed before tentatively taking them into her hands admiring them.

“How did you know these were my favorites?” She asks, running her fingers along the soft petals. 

I bite the inside of my cheek deciding if I should be honest or not. It isn't a hard choice, I'm not going to make a fool of myself. 

“Lucky guess I suppose.” 

I can tell she doesn't believe me, and I don't blame her. I wouldn't believe me either. But she is better than I for she lets me keep my pride only nodding with a sly ‘sure’ smile. 

Asshe admires the flowers I take the time to admire her. Her hair is tied up in a braid bun with thin golden thread woven in. And her dress is a light grey. But what keeps my attention is the necklace on her neck. It's the one I gave her all those moons ago. 

She was most likely going to give it back, but now I think it will stay on that delicate throat. I think with a smirk.

When she looks up at me again that adorable blush has yet to leave her cheeks. “Well, now that we have everything cleared up…” She trails off too embarrassed to continue.

“Meet me in the gods woods tomorrow at midday. I will have a meal set for us.” I say as I reluctantly let go of her arm. 

She smiles giving me a small curtsy before turning to leave. The faint whisper of “yes, my Prince.” barely reaches my ears as she walks down the steps smelling her apology gift. 

When I enter I realize I made a mistake. I don't even know what she likes to eat!

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @athzhowakar @fictionlurker @yn-jackson @edensfanfictionsuggestions @lady-ye @nommingonfood @dreamlandcreations @baybaybear1 @seaevans @ninihrtss @zara-zara11

[jamethinks]

Chapter 111... let's talk about it.

Firstly, that is not Anya's real mother. That is her birth mother. Biological if you want to get technical. While I don't think anyone is going to turn their backs on Yor as Anya's mother, language is still important. Resist the nuclear-monogamy family propaganda. No hate no shade but this is touching on very triggering territory for me and I am weary of what I will have to suffer through. The batfam fandom has been pissing off as it alright. Wrap it up.

Now for the actual chapter

Died 852 Born in like 1950s/1940s. Welcome back Eren Yeager

Theory: Anya's mother was experimented on during the second war (during WW2 we say a lot of unethical practices and experiments going on so who's to say). At some point she would have gotten pregnant (likely not on purpose) and had Anya. Then she would have broken Anya out or something.

Questions: Can Anya's mom read minds? We know Anya can and that the scientists were interested in this ability but also there does not seem to be any interest in finding her. No easter eggs or discussions. Seems rather odd to just let something like go unless you had something more interesting/valuable in your possession ie Anya's mother.

Alternatively, given the nature of the story it is possible nobody gave a rat's ass until. And by nobody I mean Endo. This could be the intro into unraveling the story behind Anya and finally going into the actual mystery of the story. I guess now that they have decided what that mystery is we will look into it. But it would have been nice to have a few easter eggs but have it your way

There is a way this could work. They just thought Anya was dead. Her mom killed her setting her free like a butterfly and stayed with them so her daughter does not have to go through that torture anymore. Granted she didn't actually kill her but that is what she wanted them to believe hence why they never looked for her.

One of Ashe's powers was the ability to make people see illusions. Within the context of the story they are treated a truthful premonitions. If we assume her mother had these abilities then that would make for a lot of interesting possibility regarding Anya's escape. Would also link her to Bond but who cares.

Farfetched theory: she is a clone and that woman is her mother but also not really get freaky with it idk

The existence of an adult telepath does open up an alternative possibility. In one of my fics, Anya's mother is a Russian spy who would use her telepathic abilities to help the country advance in war and such and Anya was created in hope of giving Ostania access to that ability. I think that may be what happened here as well. Anya's mother was used as a tool by the Ostanian government to help sniff out spies and shit. Given the high rates of espionage and distrust, it does seem likely that they would want a telepath in their bank to advance their own war efforts. This could also explain why Donovan may seem like he can read thoughts. He could use her to read the thought of people he suspects or whatever and report back to him. It's a farfetched theory but anything to prove he can't read minds.

Lastly, it seems Melinda's delusions are affecting Twilight a bit. The way he reacted to Yor seemingly reading Anya's mind is interesting. Even though he may not necessarily believe Melinda it does seem like it made him debate his understanding of reality. He's a skeptical man by nature so I think he might just become more observant of the people around him. As if he himself is debating the existence of telepaths and mind readers. This not only puts Anya in awkward position but also Yor. Even if he doesn't devolve into a paranoid man convinced that everyone can read his minds, it will make him question her more and possible bring those early day suspicions of who Yor truly is.

Besides he's also getting close and attached to them. It won't surpise me if in defense he starts making up insane scenarios and explanations to forcibly detach himself from them. One trait he has always shared with Donovan is paranoia and distrust of others. Of course we have seen what that distrust can do to you.

(Side note: Yor immediately clocking his confusion and clarifying for him is so cute. Like she knows her paranoid little man. Granted, it will come to bite her in the ass if he starts to spiral out of control)

[rarepairdumpster]

Vampire AU #2 - Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Vampire Silco, Blood, Sick Viktor, Vampire Transition, Doing what we want with Vampire rules

Viktor starting to get sick and Silco can taste it in his blood and he knows it's terminal.

By this time Silco has already become very attached to Viktor and struggles with himself because after Vander he promised he would never change anyone else.

Viktor being upset when Silco pulls back from his neck after barely a lap of his blood. More so, when Silco presses a handkerchief to his mouth, as if to soak up the taste.

Silco's instincts tell him to run but he's unable to when Viktor looks up at him with concern and longing. 

"Did you eat differently?" Silco asks, already knowing the answer.

"I ate the basket you gave me," Viktor answers immediately, reaching for him. "What's wrong? Why do you look so....anxious?"

Silco sighs, running a hand through his hair. "In your blood, I can taste..." He reaches forward and cups Viktor's cheek. "You need to visit the doctor immediately."

Viktor is alarmed by the faint break in Silco's voice. 

"Okay," Viktor whispers.

Viktor goes still and then his face twists, full of emotion.

"Please, don't -- don't leave me, Silco. Whatever it is, I can get better...I will get better." 

No, you won't, Silco thinks to himself.

"I have to go," Silco still has to feed tonight, even if it won't be Viktor. "I'll be back. I promise." He pulls Viktor into a kiss, the disease burning his tongue, but the taste of Viktor's mouth is more overpowering.

Viktor voice is small as he clings to him a little longer, a little tighter, asking "But you won't....do the other things.....with....someone else?" 

Silco cups his face. "No one tempts me, as you do."

When Silco comes again, Viktor has the results from the doctor on his nightstand. Viktor is curled up in a ball and doesn't move, even when Silco sits on the bed and puts a hand on his arm.

"You knew," Viktor says quietly, bitter note in his voice. "You knew." 

"Yes." 

The admission is quiet....sad.

And then a broken keen escapes Viktor as he turns his face deeper into the pillow.

"I don't want to die."

Silco takes a deep breath. "That's why I came." 

Viktor stills for a moment. "To say goodbye?"

"To offer an alternative," Silco says quietly, the words paining him, because he knows....if Viktor accepts....it'll never be the same between them again.

Viktor won't feel so warm and vibrant and alive in his arms, and his mind will be silent to him. His blood will never taste as sweet.

Viktor finally turns to Silco. "You mean..."

"Yes," Silco can see he hasn't been sleeping and likely not eating either. He runs a hand through Viktor's hair and brings it to rest on his cheek. "If that is what you truly want."

The gleam in Viktor's eyes makes him feel uneasy.

"But I warn you.....the transition isn't easy. You....you may wish you'd died. And then you will have to adjust to....everything."

Viktor swallows. "How many have you...turned?"

"Just one other," Silco sighs. "Centuries ago."

"Where is he?" 

Silco hesitates for a long moment and then says, "Ashes. I killed him after he attempted to do the same to me. Took a while to recover from his brutality, but age affords me a strength to endure that fledglings lack."

"Did you also..."

"Love him?" Silco looks softly at Viktor as the boy processes what he just said. "Yes. He was very different from you, though."

"I would never do what he did," Viktor says fiercely, face set with the same kind of conviction he wears when he speaks about the injustices he witnesses in the world.

And Silco smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come now," Silco lets out a breath, knowing he needs to do this now before he talks himself out of it yet again. "We have to be finished before morning." 

"Wait," Viktor grabs Silco's arm. "When I change, I'll be...different. Physically." 

Silco nods. "Yes. Any physical ailments will go away. Your disease and your leg."

Viktor shakes his head. "No. My blood. It won't taste the same, will it?"

"Your blood will never taste as sweet as it was," Silco answers, expression softening, "but it won't taste sick either. It will be different. Like mine. It wouldn't sustain me, but could be enjoyed from time to time."

Viktor lets go of Silco's wrist and looks down. "Why then?"

Silco lifts Viktor's chin. "Do you really think that I've continued this solely because of your blood?"

Viktor looks away, shrugging weakly, and Silco gets flashes of Vktor being told that he's a worthless cripple over and over, that he'd never amount to anything, etc

"Your blood may have brought me to you," Silco explains "but your beauty and your brilliance kept me returning." He tucks Viktor's hair behind his ear. "And now, I find the idea of continuing without you to be very painful."

Viktor looks at him again, eyes watering.

"You would miss me, if I...." 

"I would mourn you for the rest of my existence," Silco admits, hand lingering where he'd tucked Viktor's hair.

Viktor reaches up and clutches his hand tightly.

"I want this. I want you. Forever." 

And Silco doesn't waste time. He scoops Viktor into his arms, tucking his face against his neck, and then he runs, so fast that the world feels like a blur.

Silco carries him to his home, with its electronic blackout blinds set to a careful timer. 

Silco sets him on the large plush bed carefully, and then fills the walk-in tub in the ensuite, because Viktor will need to be washed once he makes it through the other side of the transition.

Turning someone is messy, stinky business, as it is technically a kind of death.

Viktor isn't sure what to expect but it certainly wasn't this.

Silco starts by kissing the inside of Viktor's wrist and apologizing before using this teeth to rip it open.

Viktor yells but the numbing quickly takes effect, until Silco opens his own wrist and places their wounds together. At the contact, the blood starts to burn, further and further up his arm as his veins take it through his body. 

Silco pulls his wrist away then takes a few steps back, clutching it. There was nothing he could do about the pain, and he had to make sure Viktor had someone to feed on when he woke up.

Remembering someone from the academy that had berated Viktor in his memories, he decided that would be perfect.

The worst of the burn is in his chest....his spine, hip, and leg.

He feels like he must be on fire, that he must be burning alive and he's screaming, he's crying, he's thrashing. 

He is so lost in it that he doesn't notice when Silco leaves. He doesn't notice his abdomen contracting or the rush of filth being rejected from his insides.

When he comes through the other side, when the burning fades, and he's left to pant on the bed, it's to the awareness that there's too much noise.

Sirens, car horns, water in the pipes, music from nearby bars. Too loud too loud too loud too loud.

And voices, so many voices, voices he doesn't know, all mish-mashing on top of each other.

But then one voice cuts through them all, clear as a bell.

"Look at me, Viktor."

His attention snaps on Silco immediately, and Viktor gasps, because he's seeing  Silco in an entirely new light. 

Silco almost glows, but in a cold way, like a glacier.

And then Viktor looks at his own hands to see he almost glows, the same way.

Viktor finally seeing the person Silco has kneeling at his feet.

And at first, Viktor doesn't even recognize the person because the sudden pull of hunger is so immediate and so strong.

Viktor doesn't even realize he's moved until he has the person's face gripped in his hand.

And then all he can see the rapid thump of arteries pumping blood around the body.

Silco bends the victim's neck, showing Viktor where to bite. With an unfamiliar ferocity, Viktor bites into the man, his inexperience clear when a few spirts and drops fall to the floor.

Silco's hand soothes over Viktor's hair. 

"Easy, my darling; don't pull too hard." Silco's voice is lightly chiding, but affectionate. "Let his heart do the work for you."

Viktor hums and listens to Silco, slowing his drinking. Visions of what the man is thinking start to barrage his mind, mostly fear and regrets. It causes Viktor to pull off the man and hiss, grabbing his head. 

"The thoughts," Viktor strains. "It's distracting."

"Yes," Silco agrees quietly, "It can be. Focus on the beat of his heart. It should help while we work on building control. But remember: you stop when the heart stops. Dead blood will make you sick."

Viktor nods and takes a breath, focusing on the man's rapid heartbeat and returns to his neck, more careful with his bite this time. The thoughts are still there but Silco was right about focusing.

As the victim's heart slows, Silco grabs Viktor's shoulder just before the man dies, reminding him to leave that last drop

It takes effort to pull away, because Viktor is still craving the feed because the taste is still on his tongue. But he does pull away, and just sits there on the floor for a minute breathing heavy, and realizing that he does feel full.

Silco kisses his temple tenderly.

"Time to clean up. Go, take a bath. I'll take care of him  and the bedsheets.

Viktor slowly stands, with Silco's help, but notices his leg and his back don't hurt like they used to. He's able to stand up straight and walk without his cane. He turns to thank Silco, but he's already taking care of the body and Viktor knows there's more than enough time later.

Viktor goes to the bathroom, smiling at the already filled bath, and sinks in. The warmth feels different against his skin now, but not unpleasant. Viktor closes his eyes for what seems like a minute, but opens them when Silco walks in, seemingly already finished with the chores.

"How do you feel," Silco asks, a soft and a little sad smile on his face. 

Viktor looks at him funny. Silco never asked before; he always just seemed to know. 

Viktor tries to reach out with his mind, to hear or feel anything from Silco, but all he gets is silence. 

"Why is your mind closed?"

"Because that's what happens when we share the gift. We will never be able to touch minds again."

Silco sits on the side of the tub near Viktor and rolls up his sleeves before grabbing a washcloth. He dips it in the water, then starts to wash Viktor's back, smirking when he leans into the touch.

"I feel...different," Viktor answers. "Certainly not bad. All of my pain has vanished." He sighs and leans his head back as Silco uses a cup to rinse Viktor's hair. "It's a sort of unnatural feeling."

"I know how unnatural it can be," Silco says. "When I went through the change, I had to learn how to live with two working eyes, after living with only one since childhood."

Arch + Woods

[lsunstreakerl]

darkbull

What I've learned about myself, from each ficlet you've posted is that while I love seeing Max being oblivious, the other POV's are so much more interesting to me, but purely because they all know the things that make Max oblivious. I loved this last ficlet of what punishment is for Max, it's hard to read because it should be! we are reading a man that has no autonomy and gets brainwashed easily.

In contrast, loved the Carlos ficlet. Maybe its because it came out right as I got off work and was a treat, or because it answered some of the more pressing questions I had of "how does Carlos enter the crime aspect of rb" and "how/when does Daniel join the dynamic?" Selfishly, can we get a Daniel POV at any point?

I think the fucked up nature of the series and how brainwashed everyone has to be in rb to be this into Max as a person but also a concept is incredible.

My current question is who is the fourth? are you planning on going RB Junior rising through the ranks ( already said it isn't Alex and I doubt its Pierre, though it'd be funny ) My thought right now based on where I feel everything is going, Liam, I think he's the most willing to be as unhinged as you need to be to become the fourth in a Max, Carlos, Daniel Sandwich but also because I don't think Redbull would truly allow an outsider to be the fourth long term.

As always, thank you thank you thank you I will comment again soon once at least 2 ficlets are posted and I have enough thoughts to make my spot in the ask box worth it what's the current count

it's so interesting seeing who likes what more. some people like the max pov's more, but I agree that they only hit so well because you get the necessary background from other characters.

max's pov for the punishment ficlet is an intentionally hard read- and without the carlos ficlet beforehand to explain, it would be difficult to understand what's happening, because max doesn't know.

glad you liked the carlos ficlet! I'll be writing more on daniel joining the three of them, and I've actually got a daniel pov about half finished at the moment (pre-kidnapping, but barely), so keep an eye out for that!

yesss the way the whole team is in on it- imagine being a new employee being onboarded and learning about max, and seeing the way he's handled and treated. maybe that first thought is "okay that's actually concerning and weird" but then seeing how max does so well, and being surrounded by people saying it's okay- that thought process becomes "well, if it works for him". and then getting to be part of the team, getting to be one of the people directing and guiding and taking care of max- at that point they've practically earned it, really. it's a seniority thing.

it's part of the culture of the team at this point.

consider... I'm taking a junior who wasn't previously part of the Redbull program, but who has Redbull ties. unhinged is good, but it's important to have someone steady and reassuring as well. so the goal is a kind of "subtle" unhinged- one that maybe doesn't get noticed right away, one that hides a bit deeper. still there, just better disguised.

glad you liked it!! writing this verse has been so interesting so there's definitely more of it in the works.

current count is 62! everyone putting multiple questions into one has really helped already :)

[nulnoildrinker]

More bad Ice and fire theories and takes:

Daenerys spent some of her childhood on Dragonstone hidden away by Stannis. The lemon tree she remembers from cold, foggy Braavos was grown from the warm volcanic soil of Dragonstone. Why would there be a lemon tree on Dragonstone, you ask? Because Stannis "spent a year starving in a besieged castle" Baratheon would know the value of self-reliance, even for simple joys like lemon water. How could he have hidden or smuggled them? Well the entire Targaryen fleet protecting the island was destroyed during Daenerys' birth, and throughout the years Stannis made several connections with traders and sailors able to travel between Dragonstone and Braavos.

If threatened by a truly powerful enemy, the Free City of Braavos can always block access to the harbour by releasing The Titan of Braavos' massive, solid bronze penis.

The Targaryen dragons were never real, Harrenhal was an inside job.

Coldhands isn't really a mind-controlled wight in service of Bloodraven or the Old Gods, he's just a chill dude acclimated to the harsh climate beyond the Wall.

The Dornish aren't up to something, you're just being paranoid.

Rattleshirt actually wanted to go by "Lord of Boning", but someone misheard as "Lord o' Bones" and he just went with it.

In a twist of irony, Loras Tyrell will end the series exiled to Essos, where he becomes a sellsword/adoptive father to Renly's secret bastard. (It's actually one of Robert's, but he doesn't know that.)

Darkstar is actually of the very late evening and very early morning. Strict Dayne training regimes require a good night's sleep, even for edgelords.

Cersei's room at Casterly Rock always has a faint smell of sewage. No one knows why. Well, Tyrion knows, but don't tell Cersei that.

The conflict between Daenerys and the Sons of the Harpy is actually just about the city's rights to self governance, ignore the bit about slavery.

The Ironborn only took to raiding because the harsh climate and damp air around the islands caused their plentyful iron tools to rust.

The Northerners aren't up to something, you're just being paranoid.

Nobody knows this, but alcohol is a key part of any fire-based magic. This is why Thoros of Myr managed to breathe life into Beric Dondarrion, and why Daeron the Drunken was one of, if not the only dragon dreamer to somewhat correctly interpret their dreams.

[creationandcalamityau]

Andrew and...Andrew??? Yeahhh

So I decided to draw Andrew Harper and his very outdated design. To differentiate the both of them, I'll call his old design Drew for now (even though Andrew also goes by Drew sometimes too uhhh just forget about that XD)

It's hard to believe these are both the same person.

More yapping under the cut!

The reason I wanted to talk more about Andrew and his origins in the early versions of this AU is that yesterday marked the 1st anniversary of when I created him (February 1, 2024, to be specific is when I created his first concept art) Happy late birthday buddy!!

So for those who don't know, Andrew Harper was originally going to be evil in the earliest drafts of the fanfic. He was a vengeful creature with violent tendencies. He was honestly almost as bad as Joey himself. Which is wild to think of now that he's changed completely. Drew (as I'll call him to avoid confusion) was inspired originally by the once-popular theory of the ink demon being Joey Drew. Though BATDR clearly disproves this theory, I like the concept. I wanted a character who was like Joey but not actually him.

So then I remembered, "Hey, memory Joey exists!" and wondered how Joey managed to actually create memory Joey. Because I am not sure if he has a soul, or even truly what he is. He's stated to be a ghost or in his own words "A Memory." so I took this idea and was like "There had to be a prototype for Memory Joey." Thus Drew exists.

Joey to me comes across as the type of guy who wants to be immortal in his own creation. This lore is actually still very much canon to Andrew's backstory, but it was also the same backstory for Drew, though he had hardly any depth at this point.

Drew's backstory goes as follows; He was a sort of "Prototype of Memory Joey." A clone basically, but a very imperfect one. He was very similar to how Twisted Alice acts in many parts of the plot, wanting to become better than Joey Drew himself. He was very selfish and terrible overall. Not a chill dude.

When I was writing him in Charlie's section of the Creation and Calamity Fanfic, things shifted from Drew being evil to being just another victim of Joey's stupidity. Which is how Andrew Harper was born.

Andrew Harper was created in a similar way to Drew but I changed a bit of his backstory, providing him more of a personality than just "Angry Employee Who Got Screwed Over By Joey Drew" which was basically all he had to him. Andrew really started to grow on me while I wrote scenes with him in them. I got attached more to him being something other than an evil creature.

The whole thing about him being a clone of Joey is kind of less explicitly there in his current design. I like to believe it's because Joey is not smart and didn't realize it wasn't going to work.

Andrew himself actually doesn't really have many features of Joey at all, in fact, he's got more features from the Ink Demon than Joey. Kind of funny how that works. If I'm being fully honest I have no clue how the process of making someone into an ink clone of yourself works so this is really vague on purpose uhhhh yeah...

Andrew like Drew was also seen as a failure by Joey Drew, however, Andrew was mostly angry about the fact his identity was ripped from him. Drew was angry because he wasn't perfect.

I prefer Andrew over Drew. Andrew is more tragic than just evil because, idk he's angry or whatever Drew had going on.

For those who actually have no clue about Andrew Harper and have not understood a thing about this post, that's okay. I can try to summarize his current lore for you (Without going into too much detail cause his prequel will do that)

Andrew Harper is my oc and a major character in the fanfic for this AU. Andrew was an animator at the studio and a cartoonist. He was a hard worker, got things done on time, overall a good guy. He met his future wife Delilah after she was hired as an animator at the studio as well and took the vacant seat beside him.

The two of them got along well and Andrew clearly was very terrible at hiding that he had a crush on Delilah. Delilah and him both got married on May 6th, 1936 and got the date engraved in their wedding rings (THIS IS AN IMPORTANT DETAIL.)

As the studio starts going downhill and the checks don't seem to come in on time anymore, Andrew gets asked by Joey Drew for a deal of sorts. Andrew is reluctant but agrees, confused as to why Joey would pick him. There wasn't really any reason for him to be chosen, Joey just sucks.

Without going into far too much detail, the next thing Andrew knows is that he's become an ink creature. He is deemed as a failure by Joey who locks him in a room for the time being.

One day Andrew hears Delilah asking Joey about her missing husband and Andrew is unable to leave the room to tell her he's still alive. Joey lies to Delilah and basically just tells her Andrew is dead (he just says he's not sure but essentially Delilah takes it as he's dead for good)

Somewhere down the line, Andrew breaks out of the rooms Joey keeps trying to put him in, and he runs off into the studio, finding his way into The Cycle. There he struggles to remember who he once was.

The majority of his prequel story I will one day write will explore what he does during this time along with how he and Delilah met and all that.

During the main events of the fanfic he serves as a friend to Sammy and Charlie and helps them escape Twisted Alice and ends up remembering his past a bit more as time goes on.

He later on reunites with Delilah who is now a Lost One and they, after the events of Wilson taking over the cycle, take over what remains of Sammy's cult of followers. (THE LOST ONE SUPPORT GROUP is what it basically is now lol)

But yeah that's him. The silly guy. Feel free to ask questions about him lol. I don't mind. I am horrible at explaining things sometimes so I hope this was clear enough.

I have no idea what this post is but I'm giving it a new tag probably "From the Archives" will be the tag. All oc yapping posts are going to be tagged this from now on.

[robynostornwyn]

Roevember 15: Pride

HOW DARE YOU!

The path to ruin? Do you have any idea what your children have accomplished? How many lives they have saved? So much changed for the better!

All the while never losing hope, never giving up, never wavering in their ideals despite the pain and hardships faced.

They should be their father's greatest pride and joy. They certainly are mine.