#is there truly not much else in the tag????

[h-sleepingirl]

Dolly in the Art Gallery: A Charmed 2025 Scene Log/Recap

“Art is how we decorate space, and music is how we decorate time.”

I first heard this Jean-Michel Basquiat quote in a rope class from Barkas, in the context of how we play within both space and time in a kink scene. I think about it frequently, especially as I feel more and more passionately about the brutally human impulse to create art.

I have been coming to hypnosis events since 2013, before Charmed existed -- my first event was packed with my own manic energy, held in a dungeon where people could hypnotize me basically at will. No hotel staff, no sneaking back to a private room. I developed a reputation as an aesthetically pleasing subject, often put on display in subtle and overt ways.

I have grown up in this community. Essentially my entire adult life has been spent involved in going to events and cons. I'm 33 now, and as Charmed celebrates its 10th year I've perhaps been unconsciously influenced to reflect on myself aging.

I feel so much older than that 21 year old exhibitionist. I'm more reserved, quieter, more selective, and certainly smarter. I like who I'm becoming, but I do miss parts of who I used to be -- that confidence, that energy. 

On Friday evening I looked at the schedule and saw there was going to be a Gallery of Living Art -- it's been a staple at Charmed for a number of years, but I'd never done more than peek inside.

I thought to myself: “Why not try to get in touch with that playful younger self? Why not show everyone who I am nowadays? Why not live out a fantasy?” 

Surely I’m not too old. Surely I haven’t grown out of this.

The time comes and I connect with my partner about it. He knows that one of my absolute favorite things is being totally frozen. We decide against anything complicated. No one will touch me or trigger me or anything like that. It’s the most “negotiating” we've maybe ever done, but I still leave all details to him. I tell him: “I was really just thinking this is an opportunity for me to sit blank and still for a long time.”

We walk into the room, and it’s overwhelming. People are setting up intricate exhibits with lots of creative interactions. There is a sheet we need to fill out to describe what our “art” is, which my partner writes on cryptically.

“Dolly can't talk. Duh…”

“Dolly is precious -- don't touch!”

Under “Artist”, where he is meant to put his name, he writes a question mark.

I am so in love with him, watching his mind work on the spot.

We find a place in the loud room and look at each other. We are a fluid force of nature in a bed together, spontaneous and wild. This planning doesn't feel like us. This hypnosis isn't a formality, per se, but it just feels sort of like “We both know how this is going to end on some level -- so how do we spend this time?”

He gingerly removes my name tag and starts murmuring to me. 

Being a dolly is such a luxurious treat that the moment he suggests it, I crumble, gripping his shirt with my weak little fingers, moaning too softly to be heard by anyone but him.

He poses me. He fixes my gaze blank and forward. He lets me practice standing and sitting. This kind of rehearsal is unfamiliar for us, and I almost relish doing something that feels a little awkward.

I am a dolly when he leaves me, frozen and posed, but I know it is going to take a couple minutes to settle in. I am a dolly getting comfortable, a dolly with twinges of self-consciousness. After a couple minutes he walks me over to a different chair, one that is highlighted by empty space around it, and I sit, and I know this is truly where I am supposed to be on display.

Finally, total stillness rushes over me like pure relief. 

I sit, and I stare, and I don’t do anything else. My mind is blank, and sometimes all there is inside my head is “I’m a dolly, I’m a dolly,” in my little dolly voice. It is pure, simple bliss.

People begin to come up to me to look at me. I am a good dolly and I am silent and I do not move even my eyes. They patiently read my sign and then observe me. I cannot change my body position to be any more or less appealing to them, I cannot hide nor flaunt myself.

Some people say things to me, little compliments and appreciations, and I can’t really process their words. The little dolly voice in my head screams in pleasure when I’m spoken to and given attention.

I have ADHD, I’m addicted to my phone, I’m a fidgeter. But there is nothing that carries the unique pleasure of being frozen and still. It reminds me of Quaker meetings, of spiritual silence and meditation that makes one feel time itself as though it has a sensory texture.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel talks about the Jewish sabbath as proof that it is not intuitive for us to sanctify time. But nevertheless as Jews we must learn to do it to make shabbat holy every week. Shabbat is “a cathedral in time,” he says, and I’ve been thinking about how much that applies to my experience of hypnosis. Hypnosis is not a physical object. We may sometimes have props but we cannot touch trance and it leaves no marks. It is time that is the sacred dimension in hypnosis, the time that we set aside (“kadosh” in Hebrew) with another human being.

Heschel says we are slaves to space and material things. And in this moment I feel like I have gotten as close as I can to releasing that. I am not even moving my physical body within the physical world. I am just relishing each passing second of stillness, building my cathedral in time.

Of course, sometimes I think sacred space and objects are very important. After all, I am in a space that is incredibly rare, that only exists very briefly, that I had to travel at length to get to.

And I am an object -- art -- inside of it. I am literally decorating the space, as Basquiat would say.

Am I thinking all of this as I sit there motionless? No, not with any sophistication. I truly feel blank. But I am feeling flashes of this as abstract mental sensations that I will untangle later.

Something else strikes me very quickly that I observe within. When people walk up to look at me, something inside me tenses up. I realize that I am unconsciously preparing myself to talk to them. I have been coming to cons for so long, and especially since beginning to write books I always meet a ton of new people every year who come up to me to talk, which I adore. But right now I am in a space where I literally cannot have a conversation with anyone. I don’t even have my nametag on anymore -- my partner was so clever to remove it.

It is the opposite of vending books, where I sit in a chair and am helpless in the sense that I must engage in conversation with the people who come up to meet me. Now, I literally cannot talk to anyone, and they cannot talk to me, and most people may not even know who I am.

It is a hit of extreme objectification, more real than it has ever felt. I am not sleepingirl -- I am a dolly. “Who” I am doesn’t matter. I am art.

My partner also is not sitting there receiving compliments for me. He is nearby, in eyesight, just watching. But he’s anonymous too. And there is something about this mutual anonymity that makes me feel even prouder about us as a couple. There is no performance of who we are. I don’t know how to describe it, but obviously it feels more authentic than public play usually ever does. Like a little secret we are sharing a corner of.

And he looks ever the artist, sitting back and watching me. I feel very strongly that this little scene isn’t the art -- it’s me. Our relationship is what’s really on display. All the work he’s done over 7 years of brainwashing me, real work on my personality and identity, my wardrobe, every single way I express myself and who I am. The people coming by are seeing his bimbo, his dolly, his [x] -- without necessarily knowing who either of us are.

The rhythm is addicting. My mind babbles my self-given dolly mantra over and over, I luxuriate in the stillness, and I stare. I only can sort of half-see with darkened vision, though my eyes are wide. I love when people notice me sitting there -- their expressions change as they observe me. They step into my metaphorical space, which is eerily silent compared to the revelry of the creative demonstrations that fill the room. They are no longer “being entertained,” and no one can communicate to them what I am doing -- they must engage with me out of their own curiosity.

Sometimes they decide to talk to me. I can’t process most of it, but I remember a few interactions.

Someone says, “What an excellent dolly.”

Someone else notices that I’m wearing a bracelet that says “bimbo,” and says, “Even the details on this one are exquisite.”

Someone else says, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen sleepingirl play before.”

That last one hits me in the gut with memories of a time now long past: Play in public spaces was universal at cons; I couldn’t move from one place to another without someone dropping me into trance; absolutely everyone knew what I looked like when hypnotized.

Even now as I am on display, I have a mask on, and the people can’t see my gently parted lips.

It is a rush of emotion that is very complex for my simple little dolly head, but it goes away.

For a long while, I just exist as a thing in bliss while the room -- the whole world -- bubbles with activity around me. 

Eventually even as I sit frozen and blank, a little timer starts ticking in my head -- I could sit here for much longer, but I don’t want to make him wait for me, and I have other things I want to do tonight.

Reading Heschel has been helping me release some of that odd panic that bubbles up when I awaken from trance -- the feeling that magic is slipping through my fingers, memories are slipping out of my mind, and I can take no memento from it. I sometimes write, draw, or make music to try to capture the things I feel in hypnosis with my partner. I think it is from that impulse to be able to touch and hold hypnosis, to make it a “thing” in space as opposed to something of time.

But I do think there is something else, just a human drive to create art about this transcendent experience that we engage in together. I need to create art to try to communicate the perfect way I don’t move and my eyes go glassy. I need to express my emotions, my desires, my dreams, my love. I am only human, a human blown away by this very human thing we do that we call hypnosis.

Only my partner sees it, and he does see so much into the soul of it for me. But this is exactly what I have wanted -- a chance to publicly communicate the beauty of what he and I do. To make this art by performing it, living it. To engage in a human act of creativity by having my humanity stripped away from me.

I am a bimbo, a dolly, I am art -- and that doesn’t go away when I get up to tell him I am done sitting here. I am his art. I am a manifestation of his creativity in this world, and he has a beautifully creative mind which I love so dearly.

This is serious for me, this is real for me, this is so highly personal and jealously guarded as my own precious identity.

Ten years ago I laid my head on his lap and he transformed my eyes into dolly eyes and told me that someday he would turn my whole body into a dolly body. And as we laid together in a bed after the Gallery on Friday he talked about how I had those dolly eyes again in that room. But to me, it’s not about being a dolly, or even being a bimbo. It’s about creating art together, art with a power imbalance. And fucking respecting that as sacred and exciting.

I don’t have much else to say except extreme heartfelt gratitude to Mazirian for running the Gallery, and everyone who came by to look at me and said nice things to me and joined me in my world for just a little while. 

(If you’re curious, I was sitting there for about 30 minutes.)

[vanillarosekiss]

preacher’s daughter!reader x simon riley 📻

part i | part ii | part iii

warnings: is this kind of long? yes i'm sorry but deal with it :b this is an introduction to a new series and !reader that i'm creating for simon... PART TWO WILL CONTAIN SMUT!

(ps. i'm an english student and i love descriptive writing, so am practicing rn! )

The air in the bayou was thick and hot, clinging to your skin, heavy with the scent of cypress and dampening wood. The house you and your father lived in near by, if it could still be considered a house, stood towards the edge of the water, it's bones old and creaking. The porch slumped slightly from the weight of old memories you'd once made in this house, now loosing it's life to the piling dust and neglect.

Whispering themselves into the cracks of creaking wood, secrets of a sheltered life hid themselves deep in the core of the house, suffocated by prayers. As night fell, the smell of rain permeated your bedroom, window open and ushering in as much cool air as possible to calm down the scorching heat accumulated throughout the day. You could hear the porch creak with weight, and the soft squeak of the front door opening, your father welcoming someone in with his low, measured voice.

It was late, and you wore your little white nightgown, just resting at the middle of your thighs, embroidered with a pretty lace pattern. Barefoot against the warped and groaning boards, you walked across your room and leant your head against the cool door, eager to listen to a conversation that wasn't any of your business.

You heard your father, a preacher for the small town you lived in, exchanging words to a stranger who seemed to have a deep and enthralling voice. It excited you, knowing that there was someone else in your house other than the man who had brought you up all these years, teaching you to stay put in the little town and not talk to anyone, let alone strangers. But now, this strange man had entered your home, blessed by your own father's prayers, for what? And so late at night?

After a short while, you heard who you thought was the stranger leave, and close the porch door behind him before getting in his truck and driving off. Apart from the fact that it was your father's truck, and it seemed to be him that was driving it...?

Not a second later, you heard a gentle knock on your bedroom door, before it opened and you saw the man he was talking to. A handsome man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties; he was fresh from a laborious job no doubt, considering his dirtied clothing and harsh boots. The cherry of his cigarette flared brightly before he put it out on the wooden floor, squashing it with his shoe. He watched you with a quiet and unreadable gaze for a moment, dragging over you like he could peel back the layer of skin surrounding you and see what you truly were.

You weren't sure what he was doing here, or what he was looking for.

"Name's Simon" he said plainly, shutting the door with his boot as he walked further into your room.

You daren't say a word, waiting for what he would say next.

"M'not gonna hurt you, precious little thing - you don't gotta be scared"

"Why are you- what are you doing?" you inquired, confused spread across your face.

"I take it your daddy didn't tell you, then?" his voice dropped an octave lower.

"Tell me? Tell me what?"

He saw you as who you were, soft in ways he didn't know how to hold, as pure as you could get. You were untouched, an angel sent to the wrong place.

You swallowed thickly as he came over, hands toying with the hem of your nightgown. You could sense the devil in his eyes, and in his brooding presence there came about a feeling of danger.

Despite this, and God help you, you wanted him to touch you. To take you as his own.

I am so painfully aware this is not going to get any notes but just get ready for part two, trust me...

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @siphon07 @figthoughts @mlthree @decaffeinateddelusionbread

[the-kr8tor]

A Song Stuck in Your Head

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 17.8k

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

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

Ekko Masterlist

Navigation

Part 3 <<< Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn't you just take her bribe?”

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

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

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

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

“I thought I did.” Scar says guiltily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're starting to love the nickname now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” He says, seemingly uninterested.

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

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

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

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

“Some people call that tenacity.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It better not be council secrets.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“I'll let you win.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Going to do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What exactly does it do?”

“Turn back time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It did.”

“In more ways than one.”

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

It's her place. You know it is.

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

“I'm sorry.”

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

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

“Under the last drop.”

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

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

“I'm confused, there's another–”

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

Your eyes widen at what this could mean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I'll take it to my grave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Victoriously, you leave the room with a soft smile.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He's still inside—”

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

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

“Red, no!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

His dreams were a garbled mess of blue and red.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine, I've got great lungs.”

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

“Were you here the entire time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You interviewing me now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“We answering questions with another question now?”

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

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

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

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

“Whatever's faster for you to pour.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I have eyes, Sevika.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Care to dance?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Or Steb.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love it, thank you, Ekko.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we start over?”

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

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

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

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

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

You want to be good for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ekko.”

“It's nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, Ekko.”

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

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

“I have something for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As long as it takes.”

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

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[thomamaru]

Hierarchy of Intimacy (Chapter Chigiri)

Synopsis: With Chigiri's keen observation skills, nothing gets past him. You don't realize how much he has studied from you. From your habits to clothing, once when he notices a break in the pattern, he is sure to bring it up.

Tags: Chigiri Hyoma x gn!reader, fluff, lots of teasing from chigiri, bathing together but not in a suggestive way, petname "love"

Author notes: this is a series based on a trend of tiktok. characters that will be included is nagi, yukimiya, rin, chigiri, isagi, reo, kunigami, sae, and bachira. If you want to add a character, you can request with a prompt :)

Work had been relentless lately, the constant demands weighing heavily on your shoulders.

It felt like no matter how hard you worked, there was always something else to tackle—another deadline, another email, another meeting.

You couldn’t remember the last time you truly took a moment to relax, but as you pushed through yet another long day, you sighed deeply, a sound you didn’t even realize escaped your lips.

Across the room, Chigiri noticed immediately.

He always had a knack for sensing when something was off with you.

Whether it was a slight change in your expression, the way you moved, or even the energy you carried, nothing ever seemed to go past his sharp, observant eyes.

And right now, he could tell you were exhausted, even though you tried to mask it.

“Are you okay, love?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. He walked over to where you sat at the dining table, your laptop open, and papers spread around you. “You look more tired than usual.”

You looked up, startled for a moment, before smiling faintly. “I’m fine, really,” you replied, waving your hand dismissively, though it was clear the words didn’t match the truth.

But Chigiri didn’t buy it. He crouched slightly to look you in the eyes, his lips tugging into a small smile that was both teasing and affectionate. “You don’t think I notice your back’s slouching more than usual?”

You gasped, sitting up straighter out of reflex. “Hey! My back isn’t that slouched!"

A soft laugh escaped him, and his crimson eyes sparkled with a teasing glint. “And you forgot to put on the necklace I got you,” he added, gesturing to your bare neck.

You instinctively touched the spot where the necklace would usually sit, your eyes widening in realization. “Oh no! I was in such a rush this morning, I completely forgot—”

Before you could finish, Chigiri reached out and placed a hand gently on your shoulder, cutting off your frantic apology. “It’s okay,” he said warmly, his thumb brushing over your shoulder in a calming motion.

You’ve got a lot on your plate, but just remember—whatever it is, I’m always here for you.”

His sincerity caught you off guard, and for a moment, you felt the tension in your chest loosen.

He always knew exactly what to say to make you feel supported, no matter how chaotic things seemed.

---

By the time you both made it back to your shared apartment that evening, the weight of the day had finally caught up to you.

The second you walked in, you kicked off your shoes and made a beeline for the couch.

Without even taking your bag off, you flopped face-first onto the cushions and immediately drifted off into a deep sleep.

Chigiri trailed in after you, and upon seeing your crumpled form on the couch, a soft laugh escaped his lips. “I guess today really got to you, huh?” he murmured to himself.

Walking over, he sat down next to you and reached out to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

He let his fingers gently thread through your hair, his movements slow and soothing.

Leaning down, he pressed a light kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “You work too hard,” he whispered, even though you couldn’t hear him.

He stayed there for a while, just watching over you as you slept peacefully, the stress etched on your face beginning to ease away.

When you eventually stirred awake, a comforting floral aroma greeted your senses.

It was faint at first, but as you sat up, it grew stronger, drawing you in. Curious, you followed the scent to the bathroom.

There you found Chigiri, sleeves rolled up and hair loosely tied back, pouring rose-scented oil into the warm water of the tub.

Steam rose around him, curling like soft ribbons, and he hummed softly to himself, seemingly unaware of your presence until you stepped closer.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, his crimson eyes widening slightly before softening with a sheepish smile. “Guess you caught me,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“What’s all this for?” you asked, looking between the bathtub and the various bath salts and candles he’d set up.

“It’s for you, dummy,” he replied with an easy smile. “I figured you could use a break after the week you’ve had."

He walked over to you, tilting your chin up with his fingers to meet his gaze. “Let’s bathe together, and after that, I’ll make us dinner. Sound good?”

Your exhaustion seemed to melt away at his words, replaced with a warmth that spread through your chest.

“That sounds amazing,” you said softly, a grateful smile spreading across your lips.

The excitement in your eyes was unmistakable, and you wasted no time preparing for the bath.

Moments later, the two of you were submerged in the warm, fragrant water.

You leaned back against Chigiri, letting the soothing heat work out the knots in your muscles.

As the water lapped gently around you, you let your guard down, venting about your demanding boss and the never-ending pile of work on your desk.

“Honestly, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to meet all these deadlines. It’s like they’re just throwing things at me to see how much I can handle.”

Chigiri listened intently, nodding in understanding even though corporate life was far from his world.

“That sounds rough. But, you know, they wouldn’t give you all that work if they didn’t think you could handle it. You’re incredible at what you do,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

You turned your head slightly, smiling softly. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“I mean, I do try,” he teased lightly. “Now, let me wash your hair.”

You shifted, turning your back to him and nestling between his legs. His fingers worked shampoo into your hair with practiced care, the rhythmic motions calming your frayed nerves.

“Your hair’s so soft,” he mused, chuckling when you let out a few giggles at the ticklish sensation.

“Wait a second,” you said, catching a hint of a new scent. “Is this shampoo different from my usual one?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s the one I’ve been using lately. Thought you might like it.”

“It smells amazing,” you replied, relaxing further into his touch.

The two of you spent the rest of the bath talking about everything and nothing—your work stress, his experiences in Blue Lock, and dreams for the future.

It was as though the world outside ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you and the quiet intimacy of the moment.

When the water had cooled and you stepped out, Chigiri wrapped you in a fluffy towel, kissing your damp forehead.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. “For everything.”

He smiled, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “You never have to thank me. Taking care of you is my favorite thing to do.”

You laughed softly, warmth blooming in your chest as you leaned into his touch. In moments like these, you realized just how much Chigiri’s quiet, unwavering love meant to you. With him, even the heaviest burdens felt a little lighter.

[zebra-rigel]

part 2 of demonic cultivation teachers Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan (warnings are in the tags: they're nothing big, but i just wanted them to be there as an option) (This doesn't include lbh yet, though my boy will be part of the shen's minor sect. I think I'm gonna progress the story linearly and we'll get to him in due time, once everything else is fleshed out ) After some thinking, I've realized that sj and sy wouldn't really have the resources to take care of a newborn, so they leave Ning Yingying in the care of the brothel jiejies and visit every month to give them money. Shen Jiu plans to let the child grow up there, but in a rare act of defiance A-Yuan demands that he buy a house and that they raise her together. Jiu refuses to consider it at all, stating that Shen Yuan's plans lack foresight and logic. At least, until the rumors of some cursed ruins reach his ears.

The interesting thing about cursed ruins, is that if treated with the right combination of rituals they become optimal places to cultivate demonic energy. Naturally, it's land like this that demonic sects build on. Shen Jiu decides to scout the location and its potential for such use.

The twins travel to the village, but as they get closer and closer Shen Jiu's chest starts to tighten, sights and places stirring long-buried memories- it's at the last stretch of the journey, talking to an old woman who sets the story straight for them, that he fully realises they are headed to the burnt husk that is the qiu estate. Shen Yuan shares a few of his memories because of that unfortunate sharing of life-force. He stares at Shen Jiu and quickly turns them around. "We're leaving, right now!" he declares.

Leaving .. can he, really? Shen Jiu remembers being afraid of this place as a slave- he remembers longing without end to leave it. Resenting it.

Weren't the Qius a cultivator family? Hadn't he- almost- ended their clan? If so, what was the next logical step of his revenge ?

Desecrating their property. "No, Yuan," he says finally. He turns to the old lady. "We are cultivators and wish to take a look at those grounds. Is there anyone we may ask?"

"There isn't," she croaks. "The ruins have been all but lost to the forest around it. No one will stop you. I for one, do not think those lands can be cleansed, but I won't stop you from trying."

Shen Yuan waits until they have walked a good distance away. He follows behind Shen Jiu and tugs at his sleeve. "What do you want? What do you intend to do?" "Wait and see," he responds curtly.

The estate is both less and more than he imagined it would be. He remembers the massacre- killing all the men after the women and children had been ordered away by Qiu Jianluo. Not a single witness had been left but Haitang, and he would be happy to demonstrate his experience in murder to her if she was still around. He approaches the supporting pillar of what used to be Jianluo's bedroom. A burst of qi dislodges it from it precarious postion and it falls into the debri around it. His resentment rises- manifests in his qi and mixes with the resentment of those who died there. It is a powerful loop, two streams of water flowing into each other eroding the sand around it. He breathes and slips into meditation. Focuses on the resentment. Slightly, but surely, he feels it strengthening his qi.

Shen Jiu opens his eyes and cuts off the flow. Turns back to A-Yuan. "Well?" he asks. "Isn't it suitable for cultivation?" Shen Yuan stares at him, mouth agape. "Yes, but- don't tell me you're seriuously considering it? This is a great cursed ground, true, but it's also- also!!"

Shen Jiu recognizes that words to express human suffering elude the elegant plant spirit. It marks the difference in experience between them- that no matter how much he is taught and learns, he will never understand shen jiu for what he truly is. A monster. "It's also the place I grew up imprisoned in, you mean? That's what makes it an optimal cultivation area. My resentment is mine to control." Shen Yuan still looks unconvinced. The next thing he says makes Shen Yuan drop his fan on the ground and stare at him with disbelieving shining eyes. He is so easily distracted, Shen Jiu thinks distantly. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[sodacowboy]

people are still liking my m*ximum r*de fanart??? bro???

[choccy-milky]

seb and clora working on baby #1 👶 🔞🔞!! NSFW !!🔞🔞

[poipiku]

[twitter]

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

REAL AND ROTATABLE!

Thank you so much to my wonderful and talented friend Coy, who made this! This is now my most treasured belonging!

[wistfulwatcher]

bau members + near death experiences

[justablah56]

do you guys ever think about Marco being the only good thing Grant ever let himself have . the only good thing he ever consciously chose to have . do you guys ever think about that .

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[blossoms-phan]

you don’t have to post if it’s like something that’s not talked about but I don’t know much about dan and phil’s personal life or what they have shared and I was wondering if dan was raised by his grandma? just cause out of everyone in his family she’s the only one that he mentions with regularity and fondness

hi! it has been talked about before a lot in past years (i just fell down a rabbit hole of some peoples tags before answering this lol), and disclaimer- family relationships are complicated and nuanced, i don’t claim to know the specifics of dan’s relationship with his family other than what he’s told us. but generally speaking, dan talks about his grandma (maternal) most often and with fondness because he has a really strong bond with her, and though i don’t know if i would necessarily say he was raised by her solely, he definitely spent a lot of his childhood with her. dan has spoken about his parents not necessarily being very present/supportive when he was younger, which isn’t to say they weren’t there to like, be his parents but to my knowledge they both worked a lot and he’s talked about calling his grandma on the phone or going to her house after school and things like that. there’s a lot to unpack as far as dan’s family goes if im being so honest but dan definitely fits into that category of “oldest daughter/girls who were raised by their grandma”

[seaweedstarshine]

pov: you finally post a sequel to your pre-Snowmen elevenmissy fic, and pair it with a confusingly busy sketchdump instead of rendering any particular scene, this time ^—^

[bumblingbabooshka]

Resistance. Blood Won The Poll! [Patreon | Commissions]

[utilitycaster]

(this is tagged for it as well, but putting it here: the below involves some non-graphic mention/discussion of suicide in relation to episode 3x78)

I think it's important to keep in mind, regarding the most recent episode, that while Ashton's behavior was extremely dangerous and reckless, it was not suicidal in intent. Ashton thought it would work. They thought that they would fix things, and they ignored all the smart people warning them against it because it would imply a lot of negative things about their parents. That doesn't mean it wasn't an action taken out of a certain lack of self-regard (Ashton's realization of this is what drives much of his conversations in the first half of the episode); but it's much more akin to an accidental overdose, or a drunk/reckless driving, or other dangerous choices. It feels very true to the idea of punk that Taliesin is going for, in which dying young is always very much a possibility, even perhaps an expectation; but not necessarily a goal. Ashton did not expect taking the shard to result in their death, and is incredibly shaken specifically because it did.

With that in mind I think the party's reactions seem very real and very understandable. The fact is, when someone does something very risky and nearly dies (or even is briefly clinically dead, using real-world terms) but ultimately survives it's extremely normal for one of the emotional responses to be anger that they put themselves in such danger. It is not, perhaps, rational, but most emotions aren't. It hurts a lot when someone one is close to does something that harmful to themselves. I don't judge the other members of Bells Hells for expressing those feelings. Frankly, them not expressing similar feelings in the past might very well be why Ashton made the decisions he did: the party lacking trust and walking on eggshells around each other is why he didn't confide in them, and why they fell apart so completely here.

I think it's relevant that Chetney tells Fearne, after stating he likes Ashton, that either she or Ashton can talk to him if they "want out", and he pretty heavily implies that this indicates not just leaving Bells Hells, but suicide, and that he has considered the latter in the past. It's clear that initially Chetney considers that a possible reason for Ashton's actions. He then gives Ashton the "You should leave" speech only after everyone present has been talking at dinner, after Ashton has indicated that he will help find Laudna. It only comes out after Ashton's emotional state is made more clear to him: it's pretty bad, but not actively at risk of self-harm (and indeed, desperately trying to avoid it and to change).

Finally, it's worth considering how important anger is to Ashton. Obviously I don't think having Imogen, FCG, and Chetney yell at them feels good. I also think it's going to feel better than apathy, and more honest than any other option. I don't think a forced gentleness would be better; in fact it might be worse, with them taking a break because clearly Ashton is having a hard time and needs to recover (shades of how Marisha mentioned Laudna feeling like a burden following her resurrection), rather than "we are clearly all in disarray and all have been not dealing with a lot of emotions, and this could have been any of us, and we should all regroup." I mentioned before that ultimately what's important is, angry as they are, Bells Hells undeniably stayed, and FCG and Imogen at least made it clear early on that they would, even if they were angry. Ashton was abandoned in the past by people who weren't even angry, is the thing. I don't think they cared enough to be.