#s2 wasn’t that good too unfortunately

[c0rvidfagg0try]

So deeply upset abt WWDITS being cancelled what the fuck

[misswynters]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞

featuring. Ekko x fem!reader

wc. 15.5k

synopsis. Born from house Arvino, one of the richest and influential families of piltover. You had it all from luxurious gifts, fancy meals, a magnificent bedroom and much more. You’re parents gave you everything you asked for. However still never satisfied you. You’re mind always looked at the injustice and suffering zaun was going through. That’s when you first met ekko, the firelights’ leader. Not very happy to have a pilty messing stuff up.

trope. “enemies to lovers”

warnings. slow burn, cursing, blood, kissing 0-0, suggestive

requested. by anon

a/n. slight spoilers for arcane s2, it’s more like enemies to friends to lovers (sorry) if there’s mistakes you don’t see it! aka not proofread (read it thrice) also there’s no war in this :)

Above, the shimmering towers stood tall, their wealth and power casting long shadows. Below, Zaun suffocated in its neon haze, its people forgotten in the depths of the city’s ambition. Whereas the glow of Piltover’s lights filled the skyline. From the balcony of your family estate, the stark contrast between Piltover and Zaun was undeniable.

“You think your actions are noble, but you’re a fool,” your father’s voice thundered from the dining room. His words, sharp and unyielding, echoed through the halls as you stood silently by the doorway. “Consorting with the undercity rabble is not only dangerous, it’s treacherous.”

“They’re not rabble. They’re people,” you countered, stepping forward with clenched fists. “You act like Zaun doesn’t exist, but they’re suffering because of Piltover’s greed.”

“You don’t understand the world you live in,” your mother added, her tone softer but no less cutting. “House Arvino holds power because we uphold order. Piltover thrives because of people like us. You risk everything with your reckless defiance.”

Frustration boiled within you. “Piltover thrives at the expense of Zaun. Those people deserve better.”

Your father slammed his fist onto the table. “Enough! You are an Arvino, and you will act like one. This rebellion of yours ends now.”

His command hung in the air, suffocating and absolute. You didn’t argue further. Instead, you turned on your heel and left, the weight of their disapproval bearing down on you. You wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Zaun had become a second home to you, even if it was a dangerous one. It was there, in the grimy depths of the undercity, that you had met Ekko. The boy with paint-streaked cheeks and a fire in his eyes had been as wary of you as you had been of him. Unfortunately, you had been too blinded by your own self-righteousness to notice the fire in his eyes. You thought your mission was noble, an act of goodwill to deliver medical supplies to Zaun’s struggling districts. Your family, House Arvino, had always prided itself on maintaining a veneer of philanthropy, even when their true motivations were rooted in politics. You had accompanied a group of Piltover enforcers on the trip, believing your presence would emphasize the importance of the task. You were wrong.

The moment you stepped into the heart of Zaun, the air itself seemed hostile. The tension was palpable, the sharp smell of chemical fumes mixing with the weight of countless wary stares from Zaunites who lined the streets. Your voice was soft and unsure as you addressed the gathered crowd, holding out your hands to show the crates of supplies. You thought you were doing something good, offering some small relief to people who had been forgotten.

But the enforcers who were armed and stoic, turned the scene into something far more sinister. They barked orders at the crowd, waving their weapons to ensure no one got too close. You had tried to intervene, to tell them this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but your voice was drowned out by the chaos they had already sown.

That was when the boy appeared, the one you heard slight rumors about. At first, you didn’t know exactly who he was, only that he seemed fearless as he stepped forward. Placing himself between the crowd and the enforcers. His voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a blade.

“Another topsider playing savior,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “You think you can fix Zaun with scraps from your table?”

You had never been spoken to like that before. His words, sharp and accusatory, made your cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment. You turned to him, trying to keep your composure despite the growing crowd that was watching the confrontation unfold.

“I’m not here to play savior,” you shot back, your voice steady even though your heart was racing. “I’m here to help.”

“Help?” He laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and mocking. “Your kind doesn’t help. You just come down here to feel good about yourselves, then leave us to clean up your mess.”

“I’m trying to make a difference!” you snapped, your frustration boiling over.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, his posture radiating defiance. “If you really wanted to make a difference, you wouldn’t bring enforcers with you like we’re criminals. You’d be standing with us, not above us.”

The words hit harder than you expected. Somewhere deep down, you knew he was right. The enforcers’ presence had turned an act of charity into a display of control, a reminder of Piltover’s dominance over Zaun. But admitting that felt like defeat, and you weren’t ready to back down.

“This isn’t about standing above anyone,” you argued. “I came here because I care. That’s more than most people from Piltover would do.”

“And that’s supposed to make you special?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Newsflash, princess, Zaun doesn’t need your pity. We need change.”

The enforcers stepped in before the argument could escalate further, pushing the crowd back and ordering you to return to the transport. You left with the weight of his words pressing heavily on your chest, his voice echoing in your mind long after you were gone.

Over the weeks that followed, you found yourself returning to Zaun despite the tension and despite him. Every time you came, he was there, watching you with that same guarded expression. It seemed like he could sense your discomfort, the guilt you carried for what Piltover had done to his home.

“Back again?” he would say, leaning casually against a wall with a smirk that made your blood boil. “Guess you didn’t get the message last time.”

“I’m not here for your approval,” you’d hiss back, your tone dry. “I’m here for the people who actually need help.”

“You think you’re helping?” he’d shoot back, his voice low and laced with frustration. “All you’re doing is putting a bandage on a bullet wound.”

His words stung, not because they were cruel, but because they forced you to confront truths you didn’t want to face. He wasn’t wrong. Everything you did felt small, insignificant compared to the scale of Zaun’s struggles. And yet, you couldn’t stop coming back.

Ekko was unlike anyone you had ever known. He was quick-witted and determined, a rebel who refused to back down in the face of injustice. But he didn’t trust you, not completely. “You’re just another Pilty trying to fix a world you don’t understand,” he had told you once, his voice filled with disdain.

“And you’re just another rebel too angry to see the bigger picture,” you had shot back. Yet despite the constant sparring, you found yourself drawn to him, to the hope buried beneath his frustration.

That hope turned to chaos one night when enforcers raided the Firelights’ hideout. It happened so fast. One moment, you were in the Firelights’ hideout, quietly listening as Ekko outlined plans for their next move against Piltover’s oppression. The next, chaos erupted.

The sound of boots echoed sharply against the metal grates of Zaun’s narrow passages. The enforcers had found the hideout. Your breath caught as the unmistakable clatter of their weapons reverberated through the space. You stood frozen, staring at Ekko as he barked orders to the Firelights around him, his voice sharp and commanding.

“You brought them here, didn’t you?” His words were like a blade, cutting through the noise. His piercing gaze locked onto you, and your stomach churned with guilt.

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, but your voice was drowned out by the growing commotion. The enforcers didn’t give anyone time to explain. They swarmed in, their heavy armor gleaming under the dim light, weapons raised. You reached for the nearest object which was a dainty metal rod. And tried stand your ground. You weren’t going to let them harm anyone, not here.

Ekko was already moving, his quick reflexes guiding him as he darted through the chaos. The Firelights fought back, using their intimate knowledge of Zaun’s layout to their advantage. Smoke bombs went off, shrouding the room in thick, stinging fog. He towards you with a slight disgusted look and yelled, “You have to leave, Now!”

“I’m not leaving,” you said, your voice defiant.

“You’ll just slow us down,” he snapped, the frustration in his tone cutting deeper than he intended. “They need me. And you need to go back to your perfect little life, staying safe.”

His words stung, but before you could argue, he vanished into the fray, leaving you behind. You tried to follow, weaving through the chaos, but you weren’t quick enough. An enforcer caught you in the shadows, his grip like iron as he slammed you against the wall. “Here you are.”

However the enforcers were relentless. One of them caught sight of you, his eyes narrowing as he grinned. You swung the rod with the little strength you had left, but it was no match for their training. Pain exploded across your abdomen as he shot you. It nearly missed your stomach, however you crumpled to the ground. Gasping for the little air you could muster.

Through the haze of smoke and pain, Ekko pull something from his belt. A device crackling with vibrant green energy. “Firelights, cover your eyes!” he shouted. The device emitted a blinding flash, followed by a wave of sound that sent the enforcers reeling. Their yells of confusion filled the air as they stumbled back, disoriented and clutching their helmets.

The Firelights seized the opportunity, retreating deeper into the hideout and disappearing into secret tunnels. Ekko crouched beside you, his hands shaking as he lifted your chin. “You okay?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.

Without replied to his question, you stumbled out of his grasp. Going into the streets of Zaun, clutching your side as every step sent searing pain through your body. The world around you blurred, a mix of dim lights and the shadows of the towering structures above.

He was shocked to say the least. ‘Why did you leave so abruptly?’ he questioned himself. Ekko didn’t waste a second, he truly did try to hide it. But as soon as the enforcers were gone and the Firelights were safe, he was out the door. Searching for you and he didn’t want to admit it. He knew didn’t know you as much, but he knew you were stubborn. Matter fact for the short period of time he was with you, he knew you were too stubborn to admit how badly you were hurt.

“Where the hell did you go?” he muttered under his breath, scanning the narrow alleys and dimly lit corners of Zaun. His mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. You were nowhere to be found.

The beating left you crumpled on the ground, your vision blurred and your body trembling with pain. Somehow you managed to drag yourself back to Piltover, every step a battle against the agony that wrecked your body. By the time you stumbled into your family’s estate, the grand halls felt like a mockery of your suffering. Your parents returned hours later to find you collapsed in the foyer, your bruises stark against your weak skin. Their shock quickly turned to anger, though it was born of fear.

“This is what happens when you defy us,” your father said, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you see now? You can’t change the world. You can only get yourself killed.”

“I trying to help,” you murmured, your voice weak but resolute.

“They are not your people,” your mother said, her tone filled with a mix of pity and frustration. “You are our only child. We can’t lose you to some pointless crusade.” Their words lingered, but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t. The divide between Piltover and Zaun wasn’t just physical, it was ideological. You were caught between two worlds, neither one willing to accept you fully. The summons to the Council came the next morning. As you stood in the grand chamber, the weight of their judgment bore down on you. Ambessa Medarda, seated at the center, regarded you with cold disdain.

“You stand accused of undermining Piltover’s authority by associating with the undercity,” she said, her voice sharp and unyielding. “Do you deny these charges?”

“I was just trying to helping people,” you replied exhaustively, your voice steady despite the pain in your ribs.

Ambessa’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Helping? Piltover thrives because of order. And you, as an Arvino, have brought chaos to our city.”The council murmured their agreement, their disapproval a suffocating presence in the room.

“Your actions were reckless,” Ambessa continued. “And your injuries are your own doing. You clutched the knife and cut yourself on its blade, all in the name of some misguided sympathy for the undercity." Her words felt like another blow, each one landing with precision and force.

You straightened your back, though the pain flared at the effort. "I acted because the people of Zaun are ignored and oppressed. Piltover turns a blind eye while it prospers off their suffering. That's not order, it’s exploitation." The murmurs grew louder, some council members shifting uncomfortably in their seats. But Ambessa didn't waver. Her gaze bore into you, her lips curling with faint amusement.

"Such passion," she mused. "But passion without purpose is just noise. You may think yourself a savior, but all you've done is tarnish your family's name and threaten the stability of our city."

Before you could respond, the chamber doors swung open with a heavy groan, and your parents entered. Dressed in their finest, House Arvino's patriarch and matriarch carried themselves with the grace and dignity that Piltover revered. Yet the tension in their features betrayed their unease.

"Ambessa," your father began, his tone measured but firm. "My child's actions, while impulsive, stem from a place of compassion. Surely the Council can recognize that their intentions were not malicious."

"Compassion?" Ambessa's tone was mocking. "Compassion does not excuse rebellion. House Arvino has always stood for loyalty to Piltover's ideals. Is that no longer the case?"

Your mother stepped forward, her voice calm but resolute. "Our loyalty has never wavered. But to degrade my child in front of this council as if they are a common criminal is unacceptable." Ambessa's expression darkened.

"Unacceptable is your heir jeopardizing the balance we've worked so hard to maintain. Zaun is a powder keg, and actions like theirs threaten to ignite it." You bit your lip to keep from speaking. The words you wanted to hurl at her-at all of them-burned on your tongue, but your mother's warning glance silenced you.

"House Arvino will address this matter internally," your father said, his voice brooking no argument. "We will ensure that such actions are not repeated."

Ambessa leaned back in her chair, studying your parents with a calculating gaze. "See that you do. Piltover cannot afford dissent from within its own ranks." The council murmured their agreement, and the session was adjourned. As you were escorted from the chamber, the weight of the council's disdain hung heavy over you.

Back in the confines of your family's estate, the anger you had suppressed boiled over. You slammed your hands against the polished surface of your desk, the pain in your ribs flaring with the movement. "They're cowards," you spat, your voice trembling with fury. "All of them. Sitting in their gilded towers while Zaun suffers."

"Alright thats enough," your father said sharply, entering the room with your mother close behind. "You don't understand the position you've put us in. House Arvino cannot afford to be seen as weak or disloyal."

"I don't care about any of that!" you shouted, turning to face them. "Zaun doesn't have the luxury of appearances. They're dying while we live in luxury!"

Your mother's expression softened, but her voice was firm. "We understand your frustration. But your actions cannot continue. They will destroy you, and us." Their words echoed Ekko's from the night before, and the parallel struck a chord. You sank into a chair, the fight leaving you as exhaustion took its place. "I can't just stop. Not when I know what's happening down there."

Your father sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Then you must find another way. A way that doesn't make enemies of those who hold power." The conversation ended there, but the fire within you didn't dim. If anything, it burned brighter. You couldn't stop. Not now.

Months have passed since your bruises had faded were a careful balancing act, though you still visited Zaun, slipping away under the guise of errands or charitable outings. But you couldn’t risk your parents catching on. To lessen their suspicions, you began inviting Ekko to your home. It was a calculated move, one that made your absences less frequent and gave the illusion that you’d abandoned your cause entirely.

Your room was a testament to Piltover’s grandeur, a lavish blend of opulence and elegance. High ceilings adorned with intricate gold detailing framed the space. The sheer curtains cascaded from tall windows, filtering moonlight across the polished marble floor. A canopy bed, draped in silken fabrics, sat at the room’s center, its pillows and blankets impossibly soft. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes ranging from engineering texts to poetry. A chandelier, all crystal and gleaming light, hung overhead, casting a warm glow over every corner.

It was in this very room that Ekko sat now, hidden behind the lush velvet curtains of one of the tall windows. Your father had come to check on you earlier, his heavy footsteps unmistakable in the hallway. When he entered, you were seated at your desk, feigning focus on a mundane ledger. He lingered by the door, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on you. “You’ve been staying home more often,” he observed.

You offered a nonchalant shrug. “I realized it was pointless to keep going there. It’s useless trying to fix what can’t be fixed.”

Your father’s face betrayed nothing, but there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “A wise choice,” he said simply, and without another word, he left.

The door clicked shut, and you exhaled slowly, waiting until his footsteps faded down the hall. Then, turning your head slightly, you murmured, “You can come out now.”

Ekko stepped from behind the curtains, his movements silent but confident. He was a great contrast to your room’s pristine elegance. His clothes patched and worn, his presence a reminder of the worlds you tried to somehow balance. “You’re getting good at lying,” he remarked, a teasing edge to his tone.

You rolled your eyes, motioning for him to sit on the plush chair near your desk. “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t insist on brainstorming plans here.”

“It’s safer,” he replied, settling into the chair and pulling a small notebook from his pocket. “Besides, you’re the one with the luxury of access. If we’re going to unite the cities, we need someone who can work both sides.”

You hated how his words made your heart race. Not because of their weight but because it was Ekko saying them. Somewhere in the months of sneaking around and strategizing, you’d grown to like him in a way that went far beyond friendly admiration. You buried those feelings deep, telling yourself there was no time for distractions.

The hours passed as the two of you pored over maps, scribbled ideas, and argued over logistics. The moon rose higher in the sky, its silver light pouring through the windows and bathing your room in an ethereal glow. Ekko grew quieter as the night wore on, his usual sharp wit replaced by a pensive silence. You noticed his gaze flickering to you more often, lingering for moments too long before darting away. At first, you ignored it, chalking it up to exhaustion. But when you caught him staring for the fifth time, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Something on your mind?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just thinking.”

“About?” you questioned, leaning back against your chair.

“About how strange it is, being here,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “This room, this world…it feels like it shouldn’t exist. Like it’s too perfect to be real.”

“It’s not perfect,” you said quietly, your gaze dropping to the papers on your desk. “It’s a gilded cage. Nothing more.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words. Then, slowly, he stood and crossed the room to where you sat.

“I hate to say this. But atleast i’m here…” he said hesitantly, his voice low and steady.

Something in his tone made your breath hitch. You looked up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you leaned in.

Ekko met you halfway, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that left you breathless. His hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. It was nothing like you'd imagined. It was raw, desperate, and full of the emotions you'd both kept bottled up for too long.

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you back toward the bed without breaking the kiss. The world blurred around you, your senses overwhelmed by the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, the way he made you feel alive in a way you never had before.

You fell onto the bed, the soft blankets and pillows cushioning your back as he leaned over you, his weight a comforting pressure. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as he kissed you again and again, each one more passionate than the last.

It wasn't until his arms braced on either side of your head that he pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared down at you. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the softness in his eyes.

"Do you want me to keep going?" he asked, his voice hoarse. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. "You might as well…" And as he leaned down to kiss you again, you knew there was no going back from this.

Golden hues of the afternoon sun spilled into your room through the tall, arched windows, painting the polished wooden floors in a mosaic of light and shadow. Outside, the tranquil sounds of Piltover carried through the crisp air. The distant hum of mechanized carriages, the faint chatter of passersby, and the melodic chirping of birds perched along the grand gardens that surrounded your home. Everything was perfect, picturesque even, but it all felt hollow.

Your bedroom was a masterpiece of luxury, a reflection of House Arvino’s status. Elegant bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes you once eagerly devoured. A velvet armchair sat by the fireplace, its cushion still as pristine as the day it arrived, and your grand four-poster bed was draped in silk, untouched except for the rumpled corner where you sat. Yet, despite the warmth and beauty of the space, it felt cold.

You hadn’t touched your breakfast that morning, nor the one the day before. The silver tray your maid brought hours ago sat untouched on your writing desk, the tea long gone cold. Your appetite had vanished with him.

“Miss,” came a tentative voice from the doorway. You turned to see Anya, your maid, standing there with a concerned expression. She stepped into the room, her brow furrowed as her gaze swept over you. “You haven’t eaten again. This isn’t healthy.”

You waved her off without meeting her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she pressed gently, her voice tinged with worry. “You’ve barely touched your meals for over a week. If this continues, I’ll have to tell your parents.”

Her words sent a jolt through you. The last thing you wanted was for your parents to get involved. They wouldn’t understand. They never did. But you knew Anya was serious. Her loyalty to you didn’t outweigh her duty to ensure your well-being.

“Alright,” you relented, forcing a weak smile. “I’ll eat later.”

Anya didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and left the room. The heavy door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. You leaned back against the plush pillows of your bed, staring up at the intricate carvings on the ceiling. Days had turned into weeks since Ekko had kissed you in this very room. Weeks since you’d seen him, since you’d spoken to him. At first, you’d waited eagerly, expecting him to climb through your window with that same confident smirk he always wore. But as the days passed, hope turned to disappointment.

However, the first week had been agony. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the trees outside, had sent your heart racing, only for it to sink when you realized it wasn’t him. You told yourself he was busy, that Zaun demanded too much of him to spare a moment for you. But as the second week came and went, you began to question everything.

Was the kiss a mistake? Did he regret it? The thought gnawed at you, leaving you restless and irritable. Eventually, you stopped waiting. You stopped glancing at the window, stopped listening for the familiar sound of his footsteps. If he didn’t want to see you, then fine. You wouldn’t waste your time waiting for someone who clearly didn’t care.

But despite your best efforts to move on, the ache in your chest remained. It showed in the way you pushed away your meals, the way you avoided the social gatherings your parents encouraged you to attend. Your mother had noticed, of course, her sharp eyes taking in your pale complexion and listless demeanor. “Are you unwell, darling?” she’d asked one evening, her tone as polished as ever.

You’d smiled and lied, assuring her it was nothing more than fatigue. She’d accepted your answer, but her gaze lingered, skeptical.

Now, as you sat in your room, the weight of it all pressing down on you, you realized you couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t keep letting his absence control your life. If he didn’t care, then neither should you. But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself, the truth was undeniable. You missed him.

The days stretched on, blending into a monotony of forced smiles and empty conversations. You threw yourself into the routines of Piltover’s elite. Attending social calls, charitable luncheons, and the parties where everyone whispered behind jeweled fans about alliances and intrigue. On the surface, you seemed like yourself again. You laughed when expected, nodded politely during dull conversations, and played the part of the perfect child of House Arvino.

But beneath the carefully constructed façade, a storm brewed. No matter how hard you tried to bury it, the memory of Ekko lingered, sharper and more vivid with each passing day. His voice, his touch, the way he had kissed you. It all haunted you. It didn’t make sense, you told yourself. He was just a friend, nothing more. Yet the thought of him ignoring you, of deliberately staying away, clawed at your chest.

One night, long after the rest of your house had gone to bed, you sat by your window, staring out at the glowing lights of Piltover. The thought hit you with the force of a hammer. You know deep down that you couldn’t keep waiting. If he wouldn’t come to you, then you would go to him.

The decision wasn’t easy. It took days to build up the courage, to push aside the fear of what you might find. But when you finally made your way to Zaun, the heavy air and dim light of the undercity greeted you like an old adversary. You navigated the twisting streets, every step bringing back memories of the times you’d spent here. How he had carefully and slowly opened this world to you, how you’d fought for it together. Well atleast try to.

When you finally reached the Firelights’ hideout, you felt your stomach tighten. It looked the same as ever, but something about it felt different. You spotted him almost immediately, standing near a table strewn with maps and tools, his back to you. “Ekko,” you called out, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest.

He turned slowly, his face unreadable. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. Was it surprise, maybe even relief. Either way it didn’t matter because it was gone in an instant, replaced by an icy look. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone cold.

The words hit you harder than you expected. “I… I came to see you. It’s been weeks, and—”

“And what?” He cut you off, turning away to fiddle with something on the table. “You’ve got a life up there. What do you need me for?”

Your chest tightened, anger bubbling to the surface. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I just forgot about you. You’re the one who stopped coming around.”

He scoffed, finally turning to face you. “Stopped coming around? You think I’ve got time to play house? I’ve got real things to deal with here, things that actually matter.”

The words stung, but you refused to back down. “And I don’t? Do you think it’s easy for me to come here, to fight for a place I don’t even belong to? I thought we were doing this together, Ekko.”

He stepped closer, his voice rising. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t belong here. This about you. You can go back to your fancy dinners and your perfect life anytime you want, but this is my reality.”

You clenched your fists, your own voice shaking with anger. “Don’t you dare act like I haven’t sacrificed anything! Do you know what it’s like to lie to everyone you care about, to pretend you’re someone you’re not, just so you can try to make a difference?”

“Sacrifice?” he shot back, his voice dripping with disbelief. “You don’t know the first thing about sacrifice.” The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you both. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the anger simmering in the silence.

Finally, you took a shaky breath, your voice softer but no less firm. “You don’t get to decide what I care about, Ekko. I came here because I thought you were my friend.”

He looked away, his jaw tight. “I didn’t ask for you to come.” The words were like a slap to the face, but you refused to let him see how much they hurt. “Fine,” you said, your voice cold. “If that’s how you feel, then I won’t bother you again.”

You turned on your heel, walking away before he could see the tears starting to swell in your eyes. But just as you reached the door, his voice stopped you. “Wait.”

You hesitated, your hand on the worn wood, but you didn’t turn around.

“I…” His voice faltered, the anger replaced by something softer. He inched his head as he paced around, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You looked back at him, his expression finally cracking. There was pain in his eyes, the same pain you’d been carrying for weeks.

“Then what did you mean?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling.

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I didn’t know what to say. After what happened, I thought it’d be easier if I stayed away. But it wasn’t.”

Your shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of you. Looking at with with complete disbelief. “Seriously! You could’ve just told me.”

He nodded, his expression filled with regret. “Yeah. I should’ve.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the weight of the argument lingering in the air. But as you looked at him, at the boy who had opened your eyes to so much, you felt the anger fade, replaced by something else. This was something you weren’t ready to admit to anyone.

A few months have passed and things were relatively calm, much hasn’t happened since then. The suffocating air of Piltover’s council chamber lingered in your mind as you strode through the bustling streets of Zaun. The conversations in those hallowed halls always left a bitter taste on your tongue. They spoke of progress and prosperity, but beneath the gilded rhetoric, it was all about control. To control of resources, people, and power. It was a game you were born into but had grown to despise.

You moved swiftly, your hood pulled low to shield your face from prying eyes. The undercity was alive with its usual chaos, but you’d long learned to navigate its labyrinthine streets without drawing attention. This was your escape, your solace. The world of House Arvino, your family’s wealth, influence, and ties to the Council. It all felt more like chains with each passing day.

The hideout was tucked deep within the shadows of Zaun, a sanctuary for the oppressed and rebellious. It had become a second home to you, a place where you could finally breathe. Ekko had been wary of you at first, rightfully so. Your name carried weight in Piltover, and trust wasn’t something he gave freely. But over time, you’d proven yourself.

Today, the air in the hideout was thick with tension. Ekko was at the center of it all, his voice calm but commanding as he gave orders to his crew. He noticed you immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as you approached.

“Back again?” he asked, leaning against a makeshift table. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a quiet concern he rarely voiced outright.

“I can’t seem to stay away,” you replied, offering a small smile.

His lips twitched, almost forming a grin, but he shook his head instead. “You’re playing a dangerous game, y’know?”

You shrugged. “I know.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering as if he was trying to decipher something. Then, with a sigh, he gestured for you to follow him to a quieter corner.

“What’s really going on?” he asked once you were alone. “You’ve been coming here more often, and I know it’s not just to check on the Firelights.”

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the edge of your cloak. “I… I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Pretending like everything’s fine topside when I know how much blood is on their hands. My family’s hands.”

He frowned, his usual confidence giving way to something softer. “You’re not responsible for what they do.”

“Aren’t I?” you countered, your voice rising. “I’m part of them, Ekko. Every time I go back to that house, every time I sit in those meetings, I’m complicit. I’m part of the system that’s crushing this place.”

The intensity of your words caught him off guard, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding. “Then why do you keep going back?”

“Because…” You trailed off, your throat tightening. “Because I thought I could help. That I could use my position to make a difference. But now, I’m not so sure. The Council sees Zaun as nothing more than a problem to be solved, more importantly, destroyed.”

Ekko’s jaw tightened, his anger barely contained. “They’ll never stop. Not unless we make them.”

You couldn’t stop thinking of the face ekko made when you told him what you were internally thinking. How the council thinks so poorly about zaun, how it can be something that wouldn’t be missed if it was gone. It was horrible that most of the topsiders thought the same way, had the same mindset.

You walked briskly, the streets unfamiliar under the heavy shadows of the evening. You had chosen this route for its discretion, a calculated decision that now felt dangerous in its isolation.

Your heart pounded in your chest, though you didn't want to admit why. It wasn't fear of being recognized or stopped by one of Zaun's residents. No, this was something more insidious. A seed of doubt planted by weeks of balancing on a blade's edge between two lives. House Arvino's influence was undeniable, and it had kept you shielded from true danger for so long. But here in Zaun, your family name meant less than nothing. To most, you were just another noble, another cog in the machine grinding them into dust.

Ambessa had recently cornered you in Piltover's glittering council halls, her words honeyed but laced with venom. She had offered you promises of power, privilege, and security for your family. In order to gain immunity from suspicion, all in exchange for complete submission. You'd nodded and played your role, but the encounter left you hollow. The high society life you'd once cherished now felt like a gilded cage, and her offer only tightened the bars.

Yet, her influence was terrifying. Under Ambessa's direction, the Council had started scrutinizing House Arvino with an alarming intensity. The Firelights, they claimed, had spies in Piltover. And somehow, House Arvino's connections to Zaun became their scapegoat. You were well aware of what that scrutiny meant-your family was being squeezed, maneuvered into a position where betrayal seemed the only way to survive. A betrayal by who? you thought.

As you turned a corner into an empty alley, those doubts turned into a growing unease. The silence around you felt oppressive, unnatural. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder. That was when the first strike landed, the butt of the gun hitting your head. You staggered, gasping in pain, only to be shoved against the damp wall. A rough hand grabbed your cloak and yanked it back, revealing your face to the enforcers.

"Well, well," one sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "A little lost noble playing savior in Zaun yet again."

"Let go!" you hissed, trying to pull free. But there were too many of them, and their grips were forceful and rough.

"We know all about your little meetings with the boy," another enforcer said, driving his fist into your stomach. "Did you really think you could run around down here without consequences? Or did your family forget to teach you how the real world works?" The pain blurred your vision as you crumpled to the ground. You clawed at the dirt, trying to crawl away, but another blow landed, then another.

Laughter echoed around you as they kicked and struck without mercy. The worst part wasn't the physical pain. It was the guilt, the sickening realization that you'd been naive enough to believe there could be change. Especially from within the Council's walls. You'd hoped that by walking the line between your family and the Firelights, you could create something better. But this? This was your reward for dreaming too much.

Tears blurred your vision as you curled into yourself, trying to shield your head. "Stupid," you whispered through clenched teeth. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." You slammed your fist against your temple, desperate to drown out the pain, the voices, the failure.

The enforcers stepped back momentarily, likely to assess whether you were still conscious. But before they could strike again, a loud crackling sound filled the air. "Back off," came a familiar voice, sharp and commanding.

You barely managed to open your eyes, but the sight was unmistakable. Ekko and his hoverboard gleaming as he charged forward. Behind him, several Firelights emerged from the shadows, their makeshift weapons glowing in the dim light.

"What the-" one enforcer started, but Ekko was already upon him, a precise swing of his bat sending the man sprawling. The Firelights fought with a ferocity that sent the enforcers scattering, though Ekko's eyes never left you. He reached your side in moments, dropping to his knees. "Hey," he said, his voice softer now. "Don’t go close your eyes, stay with me now."

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked sob. Blood trickled from a huge gash above your brow, staining your face. Ekko pressed a hand to your shoulder to steady you, but you flinched. Your fist weakly hitting your own head again. "Stop it," he said firmly, grabbing your wrist before you could hurt yourself further. "Hey! Don't do that."

"I'm an idiot," you mumbled, your voice barely audible. "| thought... I thought they could change. That Piltover could change. But I was wrong. They'll never stop."

His expression softened, though his jaw was still tight with anger. "You're not an idiot. You're just optimistic... too hopeful for your own good."

The Firelights surrounded you, their movements tense as they prepared for more enforcers to arrive. Ekko lifted you carefully, his arm supporting your weight. "We need to move," one of his crew said.

"Yeah i know," Ekko replied, his eyes still on you. "Let's get out of here."

As he carried you to safety, the weight of your choices pressed down on you like never before. Your family would demand answers. The Council would escalate their efforts. And Ambessa? Oh, she’s gonna have a fieldday with this. She would stop at nothing to make you pay for what she'd see, see it as a betrayal to your own people. But as Ekko held you steady, his presence a grounding force amidst the chaos, you realized something else. You were no longer just caught between two worlds, you were tearing one down to build the other.

Ekko’s chambers weren’t lavish, but they were purposeful, an organized chaos that spoke of a leader always in motion. The space was tucked inside one of the largest branches of the Firelight’s sprawling treehouse hideout. The soft glow of lanterns filled the room, their light reflecting off walls adorned with maps, sketches, and scattered tools. From the small window, you could see the hideout below, a buzzing network of walkways, platforms, and people moving with quiet purpose.

The bed you lay on was makeshift but sturdy, piled with blankets and pillows that smelled faintly of Zaun’s metal-tinged air. Your body ached everywhere. Sharp, stinging pains in some places, a deep, relentless soreness in others. Slowly, you tried to sit up, wincing as the movement sent sharp jolts of pain through your ribs.

Across the room, Ekko stood at a workbench, tinkering with something that sparked faintly under his fingers. His braids were tied back, and his jacket was slung over the back of a chair, leaving him in a simple shirt that clung to his frame. When he glanced over and saw you struggling to rise, his eyes widened, and he immediately abandoned his project.

“Hey, whoa—what do you think you’re doing?” he asked, crossing the room in a heartbeat.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you tried to wave him off.

“You’re not fine,” he countered, his hands carefully but firmly guiding you back down onto the bed. “You’ve been out for two days, and you can barely sit up without wincing.”

“I can handle it,” you said, though your body betrayed you with another sharp wince as you tried to adjust yourself on the pillows.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Ekko replied dryly, but his voice softened as he knelt beside the bed. “Seriously. You need to rest. Let me help.”

There was a quiet moment as he adjusted the pillows behind you, moving with surprising gentleness. His hands lingered briefly, his eyes scanning your face as if double checking for signs of discomfort.

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

He shook his head, leaning back on his heels. “You don’t have to thank me. I just… You scared the hell out of me, y’know?”

You glanced away, guilt stirring in your chest. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I didn’t think it would get THAT bad.”

Ekko sat back on the floor, his arms resting on his knees as he studied you. “Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “When I found you, you were hitting yourself and saying all these… awful things. About yourself.”

Your breath hitched at the memory, shame washing over you. “It’s just… something I do when I’m frustrated,” you admitted, not meeting his gaze. “I was angry, at everyone and everything. Y’know, I thought I could make a difference, but I was wrong. I let everyone down.”

“Oh come on don’t say that,” Ekko said firmly, cutting you off. “You didn’t let anyone down. You’re one of the only people from Piltover who actually cares about Zaun. And yeah, maybe you were too optimistic, but that’s not a bad thing. You don’t deserve what they did to you.” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, he added, “It’s not safe for you to go back to Piltover.”

You frowned, meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been hearing things,” Ekko said, his expression darkening. “Rumors. Ambessa’s pissed. She thinks you’ve betrayed the Council, and she’s not the kind of person to let something like that slide. Word is, she wants your head.” The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest, and you slumped back against the pillows. “So that’s it, then?” you said bitterly. “I can’t go home. I can’t go back to Piltover. What am I supposed to do now?”

Ekko leaned closer, his gaze unwavering. “You stay here,” he said simply. “With me. You’ve got people who will vouch for you for the most part. I’ll fight for you.” Something in his tone made your chest tighten, and for the first time in days, a small, hesitant smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Ekko. For literally everything.”

He reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “Anytime .”

, marked with red ink, highlighted the areas where House Arvino’s trade routes intersected with Zaun’s underbelly.

A grizzled Baron leaned forward, his metallic fingers tapping against the table. “House Arvino’s little noble has gone rogue,” he rasped, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “The Council’s after them, sure, but that just makes this all the more interesting for us.”

Another Baron, her voice honeyed but sharp, chimed in. “If we get our hands on them, imagine the leverage we’d have. Not just over Arvino, but the Council and even the Firelights. They’re a walking, breathing key to the chaos we’ve been craving.”

“They’re already in Zaun,” another added, her tone laced with confidence. “All we need is patience. When the time is right, we’ll make our move.” The Barons exchanged nods, their plan unspoken but clear. For now, they would wait, watching, their web of spies and informants slowly tightening around you.

From across the platform, Ekko leaned casually against a railing, watching the interaction unfold. His arms were crossed, but there was a noticeable softness in his gaze, a flicker of something close to admiration.

In the days that followed, the children of the hideout began to gravitate toward you. They tugged at your hands, peppering you with questions about Piltover and laughing at your awkward attempts to keep up with their boundless energy. You found yourself helping where you could, organizing supplies, assisting with small repairs, and even attempting to teach some of the younger ones how to read.

Though the older Firelights were slower to trust, you noticed their glances were no longer as sharp, their whispers not as harsh. You were earning your place here, bit by bit, though it was a far cry from the life you had once known. Piltover, with its grand halls and polished façades, felt like a distant memory now, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to cling to.

Ekko, ever watchful, seemed to take quiet satisfaction in your efforts. He didn’t say much, but his presence was definitely there. Whether he was checking on you or working alongside the others. There was a rhythm to life in the hideout, and you were beginning to find your place within it.

Unbeknownst to you, danger loomed closer than you realized. The Chem Barons’ spies were everywhere, watching, reporting back with meticulous detail. Every interaction you had, every movement you made, was noted. To them, you were a pawn in a much larger game, one that could tip the balance of power in Zaun.

“They’re softening,” one spy reported back, his voice low as he spoke into a communicator hidden beneath his cloak. “The Firelights trust them more every day. If we move now, it’ll be too obvious.”

“Let them feel safe,” came the reply, cold and calculating. “When the time is right, we’ll take them. And when we do, House Arvino will learn what happens when they meddle in Zaun’s affairs.”

It was another ordinary morning in the hideout when you decided to venture outside Ekko’s chambers. The soreness in your body was a dull ache now, manageable but constant. As you stepped onto the main platform, the sunlight filtering through the leaves felt warm on your skin, a stark contrast to the chill of Piltover’s marble halls.

You hadn’t noticed Ekko watching you until you caught his reflection in the metal plating of a nearby railing. He was perched on a ledge, his goggles pushed up onto his forehead, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re staring again,” you said, your tone teasing as you turned to face him fully.

Ekko smirked, hopping down from the ledge with practiced ease. “Just making sure you’re not overdoing it,” he shot back. “You’ve got a habit of biting off more than you can chew.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms despite the ache in your shoulders. “I’m fine, Ekko. I’ve been fine. You don’t have to keep hovering.”

His expression softened, but he didn’t back down. “Someone has to. If it weren’t for me, you’d probably still be lying in the street.” The reminder stung, not because it wasn’t true, but because it forced you to confront just how fragile your position had become. You looked away, scanning the hideout below where Firelights bustled about their tasks. The children’s laughter floated up, a soothing balm to the tension that threatened to settle between you and Ekko.

“I’ve been trying to help,” you murmured. “I don’t want to be a burden. It’s just that…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put the conflict in your heart into words.

Ekko stepped closer, his voice low and steady. “You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “But you’re not invincible either. And if you keep throwing yourself into danger like this, someone’s going to take advantage of it.” His words hit harder than you cared to admit, but before you could respond, a group of children came running up, dragging you into their latest adventure A game that involved climbing ropes strung between the platforms. You gave Ekko a grateful smile, silently promising him you’d be careful, even if you weren’t entirely sure how.

That night, as the Firelights settled into the quiet hum of evening, Ekko pulled you aside. His chambers felt more like a refuge now than a room, its warmth amplified by the soft glow of firelight reflecting off polished metal and glass.

“You’ve been doing good here,” he began, leaning against his workbench. “The kids adore you, and even the older crew is starting to come around. But it’s not just about fitting in, you know?”

You tilted your head, unsure where he was going with this. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his fingers drumming against the table. “The Chem Barons,” he said finally, his tone heavy. “They’ve got their eyes on you now. Your family’s deals with them? Those don’t go unnoticed. And with the Council already hunting you, you’re stuck between two very dangerous sides.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a shroud. “So what do I do?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

Ekko stepped closer, his gaze meeting yours. “Like i said earlier, you stay here. The Firelights are your best chance now. We’ll protect you, but you’ve got to let us.”

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the fear gnawing at your resolve. “And my family?”

“Well they already made their choice,” he said, his tone softening. “Now you’ve got to make yours.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The firelight flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. Ekko’s steady presence was a comfort, a reminder that you weren’t as alone as you felt.

You have spent the last few weeks peacefully managing your new life in zaun. As for today, it was surely a day to remember. It had been long but rewarding. You’d spent most of it helping around the hideout, patching up clothes, organizing supplies, and entertaining the children with small stories and makeshift games. Their laughter had been infectious, warming a part of you that you didn’t even realize had grown cold. But now, as the sun set and the last streaks of orange faded from the sky, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy blanket.

Returning to Ekko’s chambers felt like stepping into a sanctuary. The room was quiet, the gentle hum of activity outside muffled by the thick wood and steel walls. The soft glow of a makeshift lamp illuminated the space, casting warm shadows across the worn furniture. The room smelled faintly of oil and smoke, mixed with something earthy. You didn’t even bother taking off your boots, flopping onto the bed with a sigh and burying your face in the worn but surprisingly soft blankets.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours. You weren’t sure. You only stirred when you heard the sound of the door opening and closing quietly. Lifting your head, you spotted Ekko standing near the entrance, his figure backlit by the dim lights outside. His jacket was off, his sleeveless shirt revealing the lean muscle of his arms. His hair was tied back tonight, though a few strands had fallen loose, framing his face in a way that made your chest tighten.

“You look dead,” he teased, though there was no humor in his voice. His eyes swept over you, his usual sharpness softened by concern.

“I feel dead,” you replied, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Ekko crossed the room in a few long strides, pulling a chair closer to sit by the bedside. “Long day?”

You nodded, not bothering to sit up. “Rewarding, though. The kids are exhausting, but in a good way. I think I’m finally starting to feel like I’m… I don’t know, contributing?”

He leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “You’ve done more than enough already. They’re warming up to you faster than I thought they would. Guess you’ve got a knack for making people feel safe.”

His words brought a faint smile to your lips, but your body felt too heavy to do much more than that. “Maybe. Or maybe they just like the shiny Piltover noble playing dress-up as a Firelight.”

“You’re more than that,” he said softly, almost too softly for you to hear. The weight of his gaze drew your attention. Turning your head, you found his eyes fixed on you, dark and intense in a way that made your stomach twist. There was something unspoken in his expression, something raw and magnetic.

“Ekko,” you said, his name slipping from your lips like a warning. He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought himself closer to your level. The air between you grew thick, charged with an unspoken tension that neither of you seemed willing to break.

Your breath hitched as his hand moved, not to touch you, but to hover near your face, as if he wasn’t sure he had the right. “You should rest,” he said finally, though his voice was strained, as though it was the last thing he wanted to say.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice betrayed you. There was a nervous tremor there, one that you couldn’t quite suppress.

“You’re not,” he replied, his tone sharper this time, though the edge was softened by the way his hand dropped to his lap, curling into a fist. “And you shouldn’t have to keep pretending you are.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest. He was too close, his presence overwhelming in a way that left you both yearning and terrified. For a moment, you thought he might lean in, that he might close the unbearable distance between you. And part of you wanted him to. But you couldn’t.

As if sensing your hesitation, Ekko pulled back, though his expression betrayed the conflict raging inside him. He rose from the chair abruptly, turning his back to you as he ran a hand over his face. “I need to check on something,” he said, his voice tight.

You sat up slightly, confusion and guilt warring within you. “Ekko, wait—”

“There’s food on the table,” he interrupted, not turning to face you. “You should eat. And…” He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I left something for you. Thought you might like it.”

Before you could respond, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. You stared at the space he’d just vacated, the room suddenly feeling much larger and lonelier than it had before.

Rising from the bed, you made your way to the small table in the corner. A covered plate of food sat there, still warm, alongside a neatly wrapped package. Your fingers trembled as you opened it, revealing a small, intricately carved pendant in the shape of a firefly. The sight of it brought a lump to your throat. You clutched the pendant tightly, sinking back into the chair as a wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm you. Ekko had left, but his presence lingered in every corner of the room, in the care he’d shown you, in the gift he’d left behind.

You closed your eyes, the weight of the hectic day and the unresolved tension between you pressing down like a heavy blanket. But even as exhaustion pulled you under, you couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes. The way they had looked at you, filled with longing and restraint.

Hours ticked by like an endless parade of thoughts that refused to settle. You sat in Ekko’s chair, knees drawn up slightly as your elbows resting on them. cradling your head in your hands. A sigh escaped your lips, heavy and full of frustration, as your thoughts spiraled into overthinking once again. Why hadn’t he kissed you earlier?

At first, you tried to dismiss it as if it was nothing, just a fleeting moment, something that could be easily explained away by the heat of the moment. But deep down, you knew better. The way he had looked at you wasn’t casual or friendly. It was something more, something intense and unspoken.

Still, you couldn’t help but doubt. Maybe he had been teasing, the way friends sometimes did to lighten the mood. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, and you’d simply read too much into it. But then your mind wandered back to that day in your bedroom. The memory of his closeness as the tension that sparked between you like lightning in a thunderstorm.

Friends don’t act like that.

But then again, why had he ignored you for weeks after that moment? Why hadn’t he said anything or even done anything, to give you some clarity? The questions swirled in your head, each one feeding into the next, until your chest felt tight and your breathing shallow.

You let out another sigh, leaning forward until your forehead almost touched your knees. “What are you doing to me, Ekko?” you murmured to yourself, the words barely audible in the quiet room.

You glanced at the door for the hundredth time, wondering where he’d gone. What was keeping him out so late or rather so early, given the faint light of sun beginning to creep into the room. Would he even come back tonight? Or was this going to be like before, where he disappeared for days, leaving you to piece together the fragments of what you thought you understood about him?

The thought of being ignored again made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared to admit. You leaned back in the chair, closing your eyes against the onslaught of emotions. Sleep pulled at you, but you resisted, stubbornly staying awake as if you could somehow summon him back to you. Eventually, though, your exhaustion won. Your head lolled against the back of the chair, your breathing evening out as sleep claimed you.

Ekko slipped into the room quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound against the wooden floor. The sight of you hit him like a punch to the chest. There you were, curled up in his chair, fast asleep. Your face was soft in slumber, but there was a faint crease between your brows. Almost as if even your dreams couldn’t fully erase the tension you’d been feeling. His gaze softened as he took you in, a pang of guilt threading through his chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Jeez…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Carefully, he crossed the room and crouched beside you. You stirred slightly at his presence, murmuring something incoherent. Without thinking, he slid one arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you effortlessly into his strong arms.

You mumbled something again, your head lolling against his shoulder. Which caused him to freeze for a moment, waiting to see if you’d wake up. But you didn’t. He carried you to the bed and laid you down gently, pulling the blanket over you.

As he turned to step away, he felt your hand grab weakly at his shirt. “Don’t go,” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. He froze in place, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked down at you, your eyes half-open and drowsy but locked onto his.

“You shouldn’t sleep in a chair,” you continued, your words slightly slurred. “And you… shouldn’t leave me like that.”

His breath caught. “I wasn’t going to leave,” he said softly.

You tugged at his shirt again, pulling him closer. He sank down onto the edge of the bed, his face hovering close to yours. “Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The question hung in the air, heavy and electrified. Ekko’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing a deep red. “What?”

“When you had the chance,” you mumbled, your voice fading as sleep pulled at you again. “You looked like you wanted to, but you didn’t. Why?”

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The proximity, the softness of your voice and the vulnerability in your question. It was almost too much to handle. He didn’t know how to answer. Hell, he didn’t even know if he could answer it.

“You were exhausted,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t think it was the right time.”

You hummed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re so stubborn,” you whispered, your eyes drifting shut.

He exhaled shakily, his heart continued its rapid pace as he watched you fall back into sleep. For a moment, he just sat there, his gaze tracing the outline of your beautiful face. He wanted to kiss you. God, he wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt. But he wouldn’t. Not yet. Not like this.

Instead, he stood and grabbed the chair, dragging it closer to the bed. He sat down and rested his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing, to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him. He stayed there until the drowsiness claimed him too.

You woke to the warmth of sunlight streaming through the cracks in the wooden walls, a golden glow bathing the room. It was already late, half the day gone, by the looks of it. You woke up to the warmth of the sun shining through the cracks on the wooden walls. It bathed the room. You stretched lazily under the blanket, the aches in your body from the past few days reduced to a dull throb. Turning your head, you saw Ekko. Who was still slumped in the chair beside the bed, asleep.

Your brow furrowed as you watched him. His head rested awkwardly on one hand, his legs stretched out, his shoulders slightly hunched. How could he sleep like that? He must’ve spent the entire night sitting there just to keep an eye on you.

How can he sacrifice his comfort like this?

You studied him, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion etched into his features. He looked so tired, so worn down. Ekko carried so much on his shoulders. The Firelights, the fight for Zaun’s freedom, the safety of the kids who looked up to him. And not to mention you as well. It wasn’t fair, you thought. He gave so much of himself and rarely took a moment for his own peace.

You slid out of bed quietly, wincing at the soreness in your muscles, and approached him. Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake. “Ekko,” you said softly.

He stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open, and then he bolted upright, instinctively swatting your hand away. His palm struck yours with more force than he intended, making you hiss at the sting.

“Shit,” he muttered, sitting up fully now, his face a mixture of alarm and regret. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, shaking your hand out with a small wince. “It happens.”

He ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. “I shouldn’t have—”

“You shouldn’t have spent the whole night sleeping in a chair,” you cut in, your tone playful but firm. “Are you crazy? You’ll wreck your back.”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into a faint, sheepish smile. “It’s not the first time.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” you said, crossing your arms.

He gave you a tired chuckle, leaning back in the chair. “I’ll survive. I’ve been through worse.”

But that wasn’t enough for you. Watching him now, the weariness in his eyes even as he tried to act like everything was fine. An idea sparked in your mind, one that you knew he’d hate at first. But it was for his own good.

You grinned, your excitement bubbling over as you clapped your hands together. “I have a surprise for you!”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. “A surprise?”

“Yep!” you said, bouncing on your heels, your eyes alight with mischief. “But I’m not telling you what it is. You’ll just have to trust me.”

His skepticism deepened. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning down slightly to meet his gaze. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

He gave you a flat look. “I think I left it behind when I became the leader of the Firelights.”

You pouted dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “That’s tragic. Guess I’ll have to help you find it again.”

Ekko shook his head, laughing softly despite himself. “You sure are something alright”

“Yep!” you chirped, grabbing his hand and tugging him to his feet. “Now, come on.”

He resisted, planting his feet firmly. “Wait. I have things to do. The kids—”

“They’ll survive without you for a few hours,” you said, cutting him off with a pointed look. “You need this, Ekko. Trust me.” He opened his mouth to argue, but the determination in your eyes stopped him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But you’d better not get me killed.”

You grinned triumphantly, grabbing a scarf from the nearby table. “Oh, and one more thing.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

You stepped closer, holding up the scarf. “You’re getting blindfolded.”

“Nope,” he said immediately, crossing his arms.

“Yep,” you countered, your grin widening. “It’s part of the surprise.”

“I’m not letting you blindfold me,” he said firmly.

“Aw, are you scared?” you teased, leaning in closer.

His jaw tightened, and you could tell he was trying not to rise to the bait. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like surprises.”

“Well, too bad,” you said, wrapping the scarf around his eyes before he could stop you. He grumbled under his breath, but you could see the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re lucky I’m weak for you,” he muttered, his voice low and resigned. Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you quickly brushed it off, tightening the knot of the blindfold. “You won’t regret this. Promise.”

He sighed dramatically. “I already regret it.”

You laughed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the door. “Come on, leader of the Firelights. Let me lead you away to freedom.”

He followed reluctantly, grumbling the whole way, but you could feel the tension in his hand slowly easing as he let himself trust you. And deep down, you knew that despite his protests, he didn’t truly mind.

Ekko groaned softly as you guided him along yet another bend in the trail. The blindfold tied snugly around his head meant he couldn’t see where he was stepping, which made the journey feel even longer. His feet ached from the uneven terrain, and he couldn’t tell how far you’d dragged him from the hideout. “How much longer?” he asked, a playful but weary edge in his voice. “I’m pretty sure I’ve walked enough to circle Zaun twice by now.”

You laughed softly, your tone teasing. “Not much farther. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

He scoffed but didn’t pull away from your guiding hand. “You said that an hour ago.”

“Well, this time, I mean it!” you chirped, your excitement palpable. “And quit complaining. You’re a leader, remember? A little hike shouldn’t break you.”

Ekko grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. He trusted you, blindfold and all. Still, his curiosity was killing him. The journey had been filled with faint sounds of nature, quite the opposite to the chaos of Zaun. The air was fresher here, the scent of greenery blending with faintly damp earth. Birds chirped somewhere above, and there was an unfamiliar stillness that made him uneasy in its serenity.

Finally, the sound of running water reached his ears. It was gentle but distinct, the rhythmic splash growing louder as you led him forward.

“Is that a waterfall?” Ekko questioned as he looked around blindfolded, listening with his ears.

“Nope,” you said cheekily, your grin audible in your tone.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

The moment his boots scuffed against flat, smooth rock, you stopped. You squeezed his hand and stepped in front of him, your fingers brushing against the scarf as you untied the blindfold. “Okay, are you ready?” you asked, your voice playful.

“Depends,” he shot back. “Am I about to fall into a pit of snakes or something?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just hold still.” With a dramatic flourish, you pulled the blindfold away. “Ta-da!”

Ekko blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light. The sight before him was breathtaking. The waterfall cascaded gently down smooth stone, its waters pooling into a crystal-clear basin surrounded by moss-covered rocks. The greenery around it was lush, vibrant, and untouched, with delicate vines draping over the edges of the falls like curtains. Shafts of sunlight streamed through gaps in the canopy, casting a golden glow over the scene. It felt like another world. Like something out of a dream. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just taking it all in.

“Well?” you asked, bouncing slightly on your heels. “Do you like it?”

“It’s… something,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. His gaze lingered on the water, the way it shimmered in the sunlight. “I didn’t know there were places like this between Piltover and Zaun.”

You smiled, feeling proud of yourself. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

He turned to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll give you that. But…” His expression shifted, concern creeping in. “Should I really be out here? The hideout—”

You cut him off, your tone firm but not unkind. “Ekko.”

He paused, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I’m serious,” you continued, your voice softening. “If you really feel like you need to go back, you can. I won’t stop you.” You hesitated, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “I mean… I’ll understand.”

He studied your face, noticing the way your eyes darted away as if you were trying to hide how much the thought bothered you. You were giving him a choice, but it was clear how much you didn’t want him to leave.

Ekko let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really bad at hiding what you’re feeling, you know that?”

You glanced up at him, startled. “Who, me?”

“Yes you. But relax,” he said, his tone gentle. “I’ll stay.”

Your eyes lit up, and before he could say anything else, you were practically jumping in place, your joy spilling over. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small chuckle, watching you with amusement. “Don’t make me regret it.”

You grinned, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the water. “You won’t. I promise.”

For the next two hours, the two of you wandered the area, exploring the hidden beauty of the place. The tension from earlier melted away, replaced by a comfortable ease as you talked and laughed together.

Ekko, ever curious, peppered you with questions about your life topside. “So, what’s it like being a noble?” he asked, kicking a stray pebble along the path. “I’m guessing it’s all fancy parties and expensive clothes?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Not quite. Sure, there’s all the glamour, but it’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

You sighed, nudging a rock with the tip of your boot. “My parents had this… idea of what the perfect daughter should be. Polished, obedient, always smiling. I never really fit the mold.”

Ekko tilted his head, studying you. “Doesn’t sound like you.”

“Exactly,” you said with a wry smile. “I was always too stubborn, too opinionated. They wanted me to follow their rules, and I wanted to make my own.”

“Sounds familiar,” he said, a hint of understanding in his voice.

You glanced at him, curiosity sparking. “What about you? Ever feel like people expect too much from you?”

He let out a short laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets. “All the time. Being the leader, people look to me for answers. For direction. It’s… a lot.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “And yet you never take a break.”

“Someone has to keep things running,” he said simply.

You stopped walking, turning to face him. “And what happens when you burn out? What then?”

He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, your words sinking in.

“See that’s what this is about,” you said gently. “You need to take care of yourself, too, Ekko. Not just everyone else.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he gave a small nod, the vulnerability in his expression making your chest tighten.

Soon the peace of the waterfall was shattered by the faint sound of voices approaching. Ekko froze, his head snapping toward the direction of the noise. You followed his gaze, your heart sinking as the muffled conversation grew clearer. It wasn’t just random passersby. The tone was too low and suspicious.

“Get down,” Ekko whispered urgently, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the water.

“Ow, hey-!” you hissed back, but before you could argue, he tugged you forward.

The two of you splashed quietly into the cool water, wading toward a large rock near the waterfall’s edge. Its size provided enough cover to hide you both, but your movements felt clumsy and loud in the stillness of the moment. Every splash made your heart race, and every breath felt too loud.

You crouched low, gripping the edge of the rock as you peered out cautiously. The voices were clearer now, distinctly rough and laced with malice.

“… shipments are in place. Should be an easy job if everyone keeps quiet,” one of the men said, his voice gruff.

“Easy? You think dealing with Piltover’s dogs is ever easy?” another sneered.

“Relax. It’s all set up. By the time they realize what’s happening, we’ll already be gone,” the first man replied with a dismissive chuckle.

Your ears were ringing, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making it hard to focus. Your breathing quickened, and the world around you felt distant, the voices blending into an indistinct hum. “Hey,” Ekko spoke quietly beside you, nudging your arm. But you didn’t respond, your mind spinning.

“Hey!” he whispered again, more insistent this time. He leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. Finally, his voice broke through the fog in your mind. You turned your head slightly, meeting his sharp gaze. Before you could say anything, his hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you.

“Don’t-” he mouthed, his tone firm but his touch surprisingly gentle. His eyes were steady, reassuring, even as they flicked toward the Chem-Barons’ direction.

You nodded, your breathing still uneven but quieter now. His hand lingered for a second longer before he slowly pulled it away, his fingers brushing against your skin. The tension between you was palpable. The closeness and adrenaline, it all made the space between you feel charged with something. You were about to whisper something when the sound of boots crunching against the rocky terrain snapped your focus back.

“Keep it moving,” one of the voices barked. “We’re wasting time.”

The group of men moved on, their voices fading into the distance. Only when the silence stretched did Ekko exhale, his shoulders finally relaxing. He peeked cautiously around the rock, ensuring they were truly gone before turning back to you.

“We’re clear,” he whispered, though his voice carried an edge of lingering tension.

You nodded, still crouched behind the rock, your limbs stiff from staying still for so long. Ekko moved toward the water’s edge and helped you climb back onto the bank. You followed his lead, water dripping from your clothes and pooling at your feet as you tried to steady your racing heart.

“Chem-Barons,” he muttered, more to himself than you. He looked toward the direction the men had gone, his expression hardening. “They’re up to something. And if they’re this close, it’s bad news.”

You wrung out your sleeves, watching him warily. “Do you think they saw us?”

“No,” he said firmly, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Still… we need to get back.”The urgency in his voice left no room for argument, and you agreed without hesitation.

The journey back to the hideout was tense. Ekko moved swiftly, his steps purposeful and his gaze darting toward every sound in the dense trees. You struggled to keep up, your thoughts spiraling as your footsteps lagged behind his.

What if the Chem-Barons had seen you? What if they followed you back? Your chest tightened as the weight of your continuous overthinking pressed down on you. You replayed the encounter in your mind, picking apart every detail. Had you been too loud? Too slow? What if something went wrong because of you?

“Keep up,” Ekko called over his shoulder, his voice low but urgent.

You blinked, realizing how far behind you’d fallen. Quickening your pace, you forced yourself to focus on his figure ahead of you, his steady movements grounding you in the moment.

When you finally reached the hideout, the familiar sounds of laughter and the hum of activity greeted you. The Firelights’ sanctuary seemed untouched, the chaos of the outside world unable to penetrate its walls. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Ekko headed straight for Scar, who was leaning against a rusty table, tinkering with a small device.

“Everything okay?” Ekko asked, his tone sharp.

Scar glanced up, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah. Quiet as usual. Why?”

Ekko hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced over his shoulder at you.

“Oh nothing, just checking.” he said finally, though the tension in his posture remained. Scar gave him a curious look but shrugged, returning to his work.

You lingered near the entrance, your damp clothes clinging to your skin as you scanned the area. Everything seemed normal, the kids laughing, people working on repairs, the occasional drone zipping by. But you couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in your chest.

Later that evening, you sat by yourself in one of the quieter corners of the hideout, staring blankly at the firelight lamp in front of you. Your mind was still spinning, your earlier overthinking creeping back in.

“You okay?” Ekko’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to find him standing nearby, his expression softer now.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, though the tightness in your voice betrayed you.

He frowned, stepping closer and crouching down so he was at eye level with you. “You’ve been quiet since we got back. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about what happened earlier. What if we were seen? What if they followed us? What if—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “Nothing happened. Everything is fine. The hideout is fine.” You nodded, but your shoulders remained tense.

Ekko sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Worrying until you exhaust yourself i see.”

“I just can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sat down beside you, close enough that his knee brushed against yours. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot to deal with. But we can’t let them get in our heads. That’s what they want—to make us paranoid, to make us slip up.”

You looked at him, his calm determination grounding you once more. “I just don’t want to fuck things over for the millionth time.”

“You won’t,” he said simply, his confidence in you unwavering. For a moment, the tension between you eased, and you allowed yourself to breathe.

The night stretched on, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence. When Ekko finally stood, he stretched and yawned, his usual energy dimmed by the day’s events.

“Well, I’m gonna check on a few things,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

You joking said, raised an eyebrow. “Here you go again, always busy.”

He smirked, his usual charm peeking through. “Says the person who can’t stop worrying.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. As he walked away, you found yourself watching him, your chest tightening with admiration. You couldn’t quite name why. The hideout was quiet now, most of its inhabitants having turned in for the night. You eventually made your way to your small corner of the space, lying down on your bed and staring up at the ceiling.

But sleep didn’t come easily. Your mind kept drifting back to Ekko. The way he had looked at you by the waterfall, the way his hand had lingered on your arm when he pulled you out of the water, the way he had stayed by your side despite everything. Ekko, it’s always him. He always even if you tried to deny it, has an affect on you. You sighed, closing your eyes and willing your racing thoughts to quiet.

A wind of cool night air hit you as you slipped out of the hideout. The faint scent of distant rain mixing with the scent of metal and smoke that always lingered in the air of Zaun. Ekko had been out helping with a situation that had gotten out of hand. It had something to do with one of the Firelights getting into trouble, as usual. He hadn’t been there to protest when you quietly slipped out of the hideout, and part of you was relieved. You needed to clear your head, to have a moment of peace where you didn’t have to think about the danger you constantly felt closing in around you. It slowly suffocating you. Unbearable.

You had heard rumors, of course. Whispers and murmurs of people coming after you because of who you were, because of your connection to the topside. They had no idea who you were, only what they thought you were. You couldn’t allow them to find out. But tonight, you weren’t thinking about that. You were thinking about how to live in the moment, even if it was fleeting.

The Last Drop was not your first choice, but it was the closest. The faint buzz of people laughing, drinking, and shouting hit your ears as you stepped inside. Your heart raced slightly, but you pushed it down. You’d taken precautions, after all. The cloak you wore concealed the colors of your family, the opulence that could mark you a target from a mile away. With your hood low, you blended in with the crowd, keeping your gaze focused on the bar, where the noise was loud enough to drown out any attention.

“Drink?” the barkeep asked, raising an eyebrow at you, the flickering light of the bar casting long shadows across his face.

“Something strong,” you replied, trying to sound casual, though your nerves were anything but.

A quick, hard drink was what you needed. You knew the risks of coming here. This wasn’t the safest place in Zaun, but it was the only place that wouldn’t ask questions about who you were. The clinking of glass and the murmur of conversation surrounded you, a blend of voices that blurred into one singular buzz in your head.

You let your gaze wander as you took your first sip. The bitter warmth of the alcohol spread through your throat, giving you a momentary sense of relief, but it didn’t last. Your eyes flicked to the edges of the bar, noticing the way people moved. There was a tension in the air, something off, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Your fingers tightened around the glass as the sensation of being watched crept down your spine.

Before you could dismiss the feeling, something sharp pricked your neck. You froze, the sensation like a needle pushing into your skin. A wave of dizziness hit you instantly, disorienting and deep. You jerked your hand to your neck, but there was nothing to see. No blood, no sign of injury. Just a strange, heavy heat creeping through your veins, seeping into your bloodstream, clouding your thoughts.

The world around you tilted. It was a slow shift at first, just a sense of things being slightly off, but soon it became overwhelming. The air felt thicker, the sounds louder, as though the entire bar was buzzing, vibrating against the space between you and them. Your chest tightened, and a cold sweat broke out across your skin. ‘No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not here. Not now.

Shimmer. You realized it too late. The telltale signs were unmistakable. That feeling where your body was being pulled apart, your thoughts slowly being smothered by a fog. You clenched your teeth, trying to fight it, trying to keep yourself from losing control.

“Hey, you okay?” a voice broke through the chaos in your mind. One of the patrons had noticed, a man with wild eyes and a drink in his hand. He was staring at you with concern, but you barely registered his words.

“I’m fine,” you said, though it came out more like a growl. You stood up quickly, the motion far too fast for your brain to follow. The room spun around you, the floor swaying beneath your feet like the deck of a ship caught in a storm. Your hands shot out to steady yourself against the bar, but it felt like everything was slipping away.

The bartender moved closer, his voice urgent. “You need to sit down. You’re not looking good.”

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t let them see you like this. You tried to move toward the door, but your legs wouldn’t obey. Each step was like wading through thick tar, the world warping around you. Your vision blurred, and before you knew it, you were on the floor, struggling to push yourself up, your limbs stiff and heavy.

“Help!” someone shouted, but the word sounded distant, muffled, as if coming from underwater.

You didn’t know what was happening to you anymore. The pain in your head started to intensify. No. Don’t lose control. But it was too late. The shimmer was already twisting your mind, and it wasn’t long before the voices began. They started quiet, like whispers in the back of your head, but soon they became clear.

Someone spoke your name. Your father’s voice.

“You never lived up to my expectations, did you?” The accusation burned in your ears. “Always the disappointment.”

You wanted to scream at the voice to shut up, to make it go away, but all you could do was stand there, shaking, your hands gripping the counter as you tried to steady yourself.

“You think you can escape me? No one escapes me,” your father’s voice mocked. “No one escapes their blood.”

The voices overlapped. Shut up. You couldn’t make out the words. You only felt the anger, regret, and shame. You felt like you were drowning in it. The voices kept yelling, taunting you, until you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. You swung at the air, trying to bat them away, but there was nothing there.

Why don’t you listen? You never do what I ask, do you?

Another voice, it was your mother now, cold and distant. “You’re useless to me. Always have been.”

The pain was unbearable. Your head throbbed as you sank to your knees, clutching at your skull, your fingers digging into your scalp in a futile attempt to stop the onslaught of voices. Get out of my head!

You screamed, but it was a scream that only echoed inside your mind. Your body trembled, and you stumbled backward, falling into the chaos that surrounded you.

“Someone get them out of here!” someone shouted, but it was like the words couldn’t break through the fog that had settled over your mind. You could hear them, feel them moving around you, but they were all far away. Then, another voice. This one was different. It was familiar.

“Hey, listen to me.” Ekko. His voice, clear and strong, cut through the chaos. You tried to focus on it, on him, but it was so hard. Your mind was a warzone. You gasped for air, your hands pressed against your chest, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of the shimmer. You looked around, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw him standing there, reaching out for you, but when you blinked, he was gone.

Your vision darkened, the last remnants of the shimmer clouding everything. You couldn’t stand anymore. You collapsed against the ground, your breath ragged as the world spun out of control.

“Ekko…” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you said it out loud or if it was just another hallucination. The voices faded as everything went black.

part two soon!

taglist: @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights @chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct @celineandtulips @stuckinaoaktree @fxxvz @jadziulaa @luclue @1intrustivethoughts @finnsky666 @blkmystery @serena6728 @mvistl @kaedeprinz @alientee @ametheslime @turquoizxe @emforjin

banner: @anitalenia

[nmakii]

the look of love, the rush of blood

— what it means to date nagi seishiro, but not actually date him

yes this all happened sue me writers are thieves. omfg this id os humiliating to acc write down why is my life like this guys. btw can u guys like… gen tell me what u think ab this dynamic in comments i have to know im so bad at relationships

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means staying up until 2 AM together. it’s finals week, and you’re supposed to be studying. but nagi wanted to play dress to impress with you, and promised he’d help you study after 5 or so rounds.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means everyone at school thinking you’re dating. even reo asked if you have feelings for him, and when you insistently said no, he replied, “alright, alright..! just trying to make sure nagi doesn’t end up hurt.” so that nagi doesn’t end up hurt? what does that even mean?

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means starting volleyball together. you always meant to pick up a sport sooner or later, but you were too old. it’ll be embarrassing to pick one up this late! you told nagi about this, and he said, “i mean… it’s a lot less running than in football, so maybe i’ll try it out with you?”

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him watching your favorite anime for you. nagi always said that it wasn’t his type of show, you never really expected him to actually watch it. but one day you get a message— “finished s1, but i cant find s2… not on netflix? :x” from then on, he practically enabled you to keep ranting about the show, and he even got a little shocked when you had told him a fake spoiler.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him insisting to pay him back, but not actually doing anything about it. occasionally, when nagi isn’t too tired, the two of you meet up for breakfast in the morning. he lives closer to school, so he usually always gets there earlier. you always ask him to buy your order and he agrees, only on the condition you pay him back. you always pay him back with baked goods, and he always eats them up. and, he still insists he wants his cash back! you’ve given him cookies and brownies worth more than 3 orders of pancakes, you’re starting to wonder if he just likes your baking.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means hanging out after school. nagi trains a lot. he has to, apparently, in order to become the best striker in the world. but, it doesn’t mean he likes it. if he had it his way, he’d walk to the mall with you and share a cup noodle everyday after school. he’d love to just sit around the convenience store with you for forever— or at least until he wanted to go home. but unfortunately, that time is only limited to an hour before club training starts.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means telling him about all the people you don’t like. nagi’s a pacifist. he likes to think that he’s a very peaceful and chill guy. there isn’t many people he actually hates. but apparently, you do. you tell him almost every week about at least one person who did you wrong, or a guy who keeps harassing you— it almost makes nagi think, ‘is it actually possible for one person to get harassed this much?’. nonetheless, he still listens and internally rolls his eyes when he sees one of the people you’ve mentioned.

dating nagi seishiro, but not actually dating him means him ditching his hang out to go with you. blue lock just won against the japan U20 team. no one thought they could make it. and as a reward, anri decided that they deserve some free time to themselves in the outside world. isagi had invited nagi, chigiri, bachira, and some others to hang out with him. but because he overslept, he just decided not to go… instead he went to your house. “hey, let’s go to an arcade today?” he asked. the two of you headed into your favorite arcade somewhere in shibuya and since he was so near the café he was gonna originally meet isagi at, he did intend to say hi… but that plan sort of went out the window.

“nagi… let me win for once, would ya?” you grumbled. “but, i’ve already got 15 wins, i don’t wanna lose…” he hums in return. and when he finally K.O.’s your character, you hear a loud gruff voice.

“hey, you pain-in-the-ass gamer prince!” it calls out. and by the disgruntled look on his face, it seems nagi already knows who it is. “yer gonna lose yer friends, ya jerk!” the voice suddenly runs in behind nagi and grabs him by the neck. you recognize that face, it was the #6 of last night’s game! “caught him red-handed!” reo laughs.

you’re suddenly a bit shy surrounded by all these new people, not to mention the fact that they’re basically mini-celebrities. “oh? who’s this one you’re hanging out with?” the boy in the beanie asks, walking up to you. you’re suddenly intimidated by the aura that surrounds him. “…wanna see some ninja arts?” he asks.

you’re tempted to say yes, you’ve never seen a ninja before. the choice is taken though when that aforementioned #6 and a boy with pink hair in an updo bun (he looks like a girl, but you’re sure he’s a guy since he was in last night’s game…) yell at him. “don’t go doin’ yer stupid seducing tricks, moron!”

ignoring all of that, nagi finally answered, “…this is s/o, my friend.” isagi nods, and reo almost looks like he wants to scoff at the title, ‘friend’. “so you ditched isagi to hang out with s/o? way to choose your priorities, nagi..!” reo laughs. “well, i haven’t seen s/o in weeks… and i’ve been seeing all of you too much…” he mumbles.

most of them look rightfully offended, most especially isagi, the boy with pink hair, and another boy with a brown and yellow bob cut. the three of them drag nagi over to the dart board as the boy with the bob hums, “let’s party! nya haaa! ♪”

reo grins and encourages you to follow the group, “c’mon, let’s hang! i know nagi especially will be really glad to have you along!” nagi would be glad? …pushing those thoughts aside, you agree to join them. “yeah… sure, i’ll join.”

[ticklishfiend]

Built To Laugh (Good Omens)

(Lee!Crowley, Ler!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale has been laughing at Crowley all day. Maybe it’s the demon’s turn to laugh for a change?

A/N : this fic takes place after s1 but before s2! so obvs no spoilers for s2 here 😁 i also have not gotten my laptop fixed unfortunately so if there’s any errors it’s prbly cause i wrote this on my phone which i’m Not used to LOL

Word Count : 3304

hope u enjoy!! :)

. . .

When Aziraphale gets in these moods, Crowley can’t help but smile. Well, internally smile. He sorta prides himself on the air of mystery that surrounds his emotions. So he bites his tongue as Aziraphale giggles at him, laughing at how utterly annoyed Crowley looks by his antics.

Aziraphale had found an old joke book in the shop. Well, not really old, when in the hands of beings that have existed since the literal dawn of time. Actually, it couldn’t have been published more than 30 years ago. But it was old in the sense that Aziraphale hadn’t touched it since it had been brought in all those years ago.

Aziraphale told a vague story to Crowley about how it had landed in his possession (this was, of course, after telling him a truly horrible knock-knock joke that Crowley demanded an explanation for why he was being tortured so unjustly). But that story doesn’t matter anymore. What does matter is how giggly Aziraphale has become since realizing how irritating this all was to Crowley.

“Blehck, HORRIBLE, just fffffucking—You’re the angel, I’m the one supposed to be torturing you right now,” said Crowley, exaggerating his hatred of dad jokes just a bit (not by much, these jokes truly were horrible) just to see Aziraphale do that thing when he giggles, covering his mouth and clutching that wretched joke book.

“That was a really bad one, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale said once he collected himself.

“Yes, yes, it was, now will you please stop before I groan myself to death?”

“Always with the dramatics, you are,” said Aziraphale, before grinning, “Just one more?”

Crowley grimaced. “Grk…for the road, I suppose.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, for the road!” He stuck his nose right back into the book, and it wouldn’t be such an unfamiliar sight if he hadn’t been looking up at Crowley every other second just to watch the demon stir.

When Crowley heard a gasp from Aziraphale, he knew he’d found his grand finale. Maybe he’d saved the best for last? (And in the angel’s opinion, he had. Just not in Crowley’s favor.)

“Alright. Are you ready?”

“Get on with it.”

“Yes, but are you ready ready?”

Crowley stuck an eyebrow up. Aziraphale just kept smiling. ‘He really is in the best mood today, isn’t he?’ Crowley thought.

“Crowley, do tell me…when is a door not a door?” His cheeks were plump with the force of his giddy smile.

Crowley blinked. His arms were crossed, laying back lazily against the bookshop’s old cushion chair. He tapped his finger against his arm impatiently.

Of course, this just made Aziraphale smile bigger.

“Come on! You have to play along, it’s part of the fun!”

“For you, angel, part of the fun for you.”

“Maybe you’ll start having fun too if you work with me here.”

“You’re working me, that’s what’s happening right now.”

“Just ask and this will all be over with,” Aziraphale raised his brows for a moment like he does when he gets all smug and silly. Crowley had to bite his tongue not to smile at that.

“Ffffffine,” Crowley sighed hard in feigned exasperation. “Well, I just don’t know, angel! When would a door not be a door? Seems like a paradox to me!”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “When it’s ajar!”

Crowley could only stare blankly at the tittering angel before him. It was a bit hard to conceal his own giggles as Aziraphale burst into laughter seeing Crowley’s unamused expression. But he held steadfast, refusing even the slightest chortle. Crowley hadn’t seen Aziraphale laugh like this in what felt like a millennia.

“You’re a silly one, Aziraphale. A real splinter in my ass.”

Crowley hadn’t seen a more angelic sight in so long. He felt his own face grow warm watching as Aziraphale tried collecting himself, but found he’d been caught back in his deadly case of the giggles. It was just precious.

“You think you’re a real comedian, don’t you?” Crowley said while trying to cover his own smile slyly, elbow now propped on the arm of the chair as he pushed his face into his hand. He tried looking as annoyed as possible.

Soon, Aziraphale caught his breath, a stray giggle leaving every few moments despite himself. They were now staring at each other, both too lost in the moment to think too hard on the implications of it.

But, as it usually goes in moments like this, Aziraphale put the brakes on first. He sat the book on the side table next to him before pushing himself off the chair. “Well, that was rather fun. But I do have some paperwork to fill out regarding the shop. Upstairs always feels the need to know how it’s running,” He gave Crowley an empathetic smile that almost said ‘It did feel good, but you know it can’t last.’ At least, that’s how Crowley interprets it. It’s the same smile he’s been giving him all these years, after every little moment the two shared.

It wasn’t the type of smile Crowley wishes to see on Aziraphale. He rather liked the real ones, with Aziraphale’s round cheeks going pink, the ones with the little lines appearing next to his squinted eyes. Those made him feel warm. This smile always feels distant…more cold.

“Yes well…guess I should be goin’ then, wouldn’t want to distract you from your heavenly duties,” Crowley made his voice go all funny on the last words, almost snarling. Maybe he was trying to make Aziraphale laugh. If he had been, it didn’t work.

“Oh you’re more than welcome to stay! I do believe I have some wine left over from last time, if you want to get started before…well, I thought I could maybe join you after I’m finished,” Aziraphale looked bashful. Apologetic, almost. But he chippered up quickly, pointing a finger to the sky. “Heavenly duties!” He repeated the demon’s words with a hummed chuckle, before retreating away to his study.

He’s always been like this. Leaving before Crowley could accept, so once Aziraphale returned from work it’s like it was entirely Crowley’s decision rather he’d stay or not. Like Aziraphale hadn’t offered in the first place. But that was fine with Crowley. Because even if Aziraphale pretended it hadn’t happened, they both knew it had, and there was a silent agreement between them to not bring it up.

So Crowley did wait in that back room of the shop, where all the giggles and jokes and flirtatious annoyance had grown that lovely tension to start the evening off right once Aziraphale returned.

He didn’t, however, start drinking yet. Crowley rather liked to start sober when they drank together. That way it felt more like an activity they were starting together rather than one Aziraphale was just joining him on.

It was around two hours Aziraphale worked before returning. He walked into the back, giving a surprised smile seeing Crowley had indeed waited for him.

“Ah, you grabbed the good bottle, I see,” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers in the air like one would before diving into a slice of cake. He noticed the bottle had been unopened, and did not mention it.

“Dunno, seems a good night for it,” Crowley popped the cork out with ease, filling one glass he’d brought in for Aziraphale before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Oh? And why is that?” Aziraphale sat on his preferred chair before taking the glass and sipping in a dignified manner.

Crowley wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You just seemed in a good mood today s’all. Figured we could end the night right, proper wine to get your mind out of all that blasted paper.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose I was in rather high spirits earlier. I don’t know what it was about all those jokes, but at the moment they really tickled my funny bone,” Aziraphale took a sip and hummed delightedly.

“Right tickled you were. Could hardly catch your breath, and they weren’t even funny jokes, angel. Really, I’ve got to introduce you to some actual comedians cause it was just a sad display of your humor.”

Aziraphale looked into the glass, swirling his wine. He gave a shy smile without looking up at Crowley. “Maybe it was partly so funny because you just seemed so…agitated by it all.”

Crowley’s eyes widened a bit, surprised Aziraphale actually admitted to it. He couldn’t hold back a smile anymore, and he’d blame the wine for it if you asked. “Oh so I’m what got you all giggly earlier?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but he too couldn’t keep a smile off his face if he tried. He’d also blame the wine. “Oh hush, you wily serpent. It was just funny seeing you so irritated at simple jokes.”

“Nah nah, we’re not moving past this. You think I’m funny!”

“I never said that. If you must know I was…laughing at your expense,” Aziraphale hid his mischievous smile behind the glass as he took a sip.

Crowley gaped in amused disbelief. “So you were making fun of me then? Right, okay, I see how it is-”

“Well it’s a little hard not to when you have such a silly reaction to it!” Aziraphale gestured his free hand towards Crowley as if to say he’s doing it right now.

“Silly reaction? Whaddya mean silly reaction, all my reactions are perfectly rational and mean-spirited and never, never silly,” he growled the word as if to prove his point, but he only succeeded in making Aziraphale giggle again. He turned his head to hide his smile.

Aziraphale took a quiet sip from his glass again, his eyes peering over the edge to look at Crowley. Once he put the glass back in his lap, he said, “I rather like when you’re silly, darling.”

Crowley blushed deep. Darling? He—Aziraphale rarely ever used the word darling. But every time he’s done it these 6000 years (which, again, hadn’t been too often) it sent something wicked through Crowley’s system.

Crowley changed the topic quickly. If he didn’t, he’d probably combust from having to think too hard about what all that meant, and if it meant anything at all.

So they talked for a while. About nonsense, mostly. Just jabber to fill the silence and let out all the thoughts they’d been thinking and waiting to share with the other. They’d both grown just a tad tipsy at this point, and Crowley was almost ready to grab another bottle.

Mainly because he wanted to steer back to their first topic again.

“Yknow I was just thinkin’…you said you, er—that you like when I’m silly, or whatever it was you said. And I…well, I rather like it when you laugh. Has that, er…angelic quality to it. But not in a bad way, I suppose.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s literally in your DNA, if we even have that. Do angels and demons have DNA? I suppose not, but I mean something’s gotta compose all that’s happening here, physically I mean,” Crowley rambled, now definitely tipsy. He took another swig. “But, yeah like, there’s literally that saying, ‘angelic laughter.’ It’s all up in you, you’re built to have a good laugh.”

“Yes, maybe so. But you have a nice laugh, Crowley! So it can’t all be angelic,” said Aziraphale.

“I do not have a nice laugh. You may have angelic laughter, but I’ve got a demonic cackle. Very different things,” Crowley could feel himself blush, but it was all thanks to the wine. Most definitely.

“I have heard you laugh on many occasions, and in none of them would I describe it as a demonic cackle. If anything you’re more of a giggler,” Aziraphale reached his glass out to Crowley, and through instinct he filled it for him.

“We are not doing this, I refuse to have this argument,” Crowley said before arguing, “Giggling is not something I am even capable of. Not in my DNA.”

“I thought you established we don’t have DNA?”

“Point stands, it’s not in my bones. Giggling is-is-it’s, well— it’s childish, for one, and children aren’t typically seen as demonic.”

“After helping raise Warlock I’d beg to differ, and he wasn’t even the Anti-Christ we thought he was-“

“STILL, angel, still! Point stands, not going back on it. Let’s change the subject, let’s talk about-about dolphins or some nonsense, I don’t really care-“

Aziraphale stood from his chair, and Crowley shut up. He sat next to Crowley on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” Crowley’s voice was low and suspicious. Aziraphale sat his glass on the table, even going so far as to take the bottle from Crowley’s hand to do the same. Crowley let him, of course, but not without raising an eyebrow. “I said, what are you doing?”

“I’m glad you’ve taken that leather coat off, or this would be a much harder ordeal than it needs to be,” Aziraphale said before cracking his knuckles dramatically, waving his hands about as if to loosen them. Crowley’s brows were furrowed and eyes wide.

“That explains absolutely nothing,” Crowley leaned back against the couch, as if to say ‘nope, this isn’t affecting me at all, I’m not the least bit nervous about whatever it is you’re planning right now. I am the image of relaxed.’ His leg was bouncing.

“Well, you claim that you don’t giggle. I want to counter that argument, and I know exactly how to do it,” Aziraphale gave Crowley a devious smile, one an angel shouldn’t be allowed to pull, before wiggling his fingers in the air towards Crowley. Crowley immediately backed his body away, only getting as far as the arm of the couch.

“No, no—you cannot—this is not the direction I’m letting this conversation go!” Crowley held his hands up defensively, curling his legs into himself like the snake he was.

“Come now, you can’t handle a little friendly competition?”

“Hell do you mean competition?! You tickle me, I lose, there’s no competition to be had!” Crowley practically shouted, his nerves taking over.

Crowley had always been on the more…sensitive side, one might say. It was something Aziraphale always found a little too amusing. “You’re a demon!” He’d say, “It’s just so silly how a demon could be as ticklish as you are!”

Crowley did not find it silly. In fact, he found it to be quite the pain in his ass. How was he supposed to look all scary and menacing and demonic when pinching his belly made him fall into laughter so unlike him?

“So you admit you would giggle if I tickled you?”

“When did I ever say that?” Crowley was trying to shove Aziraphale away with his feet now, kicking (maybe too softly) at his thighs like it would do a thing. Aziraphale held his ground like a solid rock.

“Well you said you’d lose! So obviously that means you would giggle if I were to, say…” Aziraphale quickly grabbed hold of one of Crowley’s pestering ankles, scribbling his nails into the socked sole.

“GAHK! NO-!” Crowley shouted, thinking maybe if he expelled his energy through loud sound he might not fall into those giggles Aziraphale apparently thought so much of.

But he didn’t hold strong for long. Luckily, though, his feet were a little too ticklish for mere giggles. Instead, he cackled like no one’s business, so maybe he would win this argument after all.

“Stop! Ahahangel stop! I’ll kick you!” Crowley barked out through roaring laughter. He actually was already kicking Aziraphale, but it was still at his thighs like before. He was just worried he’d eventually nail the angel right in the nose if he kept up with it.

“Well, you aren’t exactly giggling, but maybe it’s just because your feet are too ticklish,” Aziraphale inquired like a scientist running a study. Crowley wrapped his arms around his midsection through his laughter.

“Yehehes they ARE! Now quihihit!” Crowley couldn’t take tickling on his feet for too long, it really was too horrible to bear. Curse this wretched vessel and its terrifyingly sensitive nerve endings.

Without saying a word, Aziraphale darted his hands to the spot just above Crowley’s knees, giving them quick pinches and observing Crowley like a specimen.

“Ohoho nohoho! Angel plehehease!” Crowley felt his resolve slipping, falling into a more giggly realm than before. He gripped onto Aziraphale’s wrists like a lifeline, not shoving him away out of pure trust. Goodness, feelings were a curse.

“Aha! I believe I’ve found quite the giggly spot on you, Anthony!” Aziraphale teased. He only ever used that name when he was trying to get under Crowley’s skin, and damn it if it wasn’t working.

Crowley hated how quickly his face began to flame, a small blink-and-you-miss-it whine slipping from his lips. “You cahahan’t do this to mehehe!” He playfully swat at the hands tickling his knees, rolling over like it’d deter his situation at all. “I’m druhuhunk you bahastard!”

“Yes yes, drunk and oh so giggly,” Aziraphale reiterated, really driving it home how he’d won their little argument. “But it’s so divine hearing you like this, I really don’t want to stop.”

God, Satan, someone help him. Not because Crowley needs the saving, but because now he’s not sure he wants to be saved.

“Ehehevil! Wrehehetched angel!” Crowley giggled, before letting out a very undemonic squeak as fingers began pinching up and down his sides. Aziraphale was practically hovering over him now, and if Crowley’s face wasn’t warm before, it was searing hot now.

“Nohohoho!” Crowley swat at Aziraphale’s hands and arms, squirming from side to side and his midsection was attacked viciously by angelicly gentle fingers.

“Why not, Crowley?” Aziraphale pinched Crowley’s lower ribs, a killer spot on the demon he was very familiar with.

“Behehecause!” Crowley had no good retort in his giggly state, head swarming with endorphins.

“Because why?” Aziraphale was mean when he was in these moods.

“You bahahastard!” Crowley flopped to one side just to protect half of himself (and also to hide his face in the back of the couch), now letting Aziraphale play with his open side like a grand piano. It was miserably fun.

Crowley let Aziraphale play with his ribs for a solid two minutes, giggling his head off into the cushion, before finally having enough and grabbing Aziraphale’s wrists for real this time.

He panted, still hiding his face in the couch. “You…are without a doubt, the most evil angel to ever be created. Just…just deplorable.”

“Oh come on. You can’t say you didn’t have a little fun,” Aziraphale spoke softly, still tipsy and stroking Crowley’s arm like it was second nature.

“I absolutely can say that, actually. Wouldn’t—wouldn’t exactly qualify bein’ tortured as my favorite pastime,” Crowley curled in on himself, if only to hide his lingering smile.

“Always so dramatic,” said Aziraphal before giving Crowley a pat and raising himself off the sofa. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could certainly do with some more wine, and we’re just about empty. I’ll be back in a moment, dear.”

Aziraphale once again left the room, leaving Crowley to lie on his back and ponder. Thoughts of how silly that situation was, imagine one of the higher ups seeing him in that kind of state. It’d be to the pit for Crowley in an instant. Well, if he still worked for them that is.

Also, Aziraphale had been really pulling him around all day, hadn’t he? Laughing at his expense, tickling the daylights out of him when he’s utterly inebriated. Well, that just won’t do. Won’t do at all.

An angel doesn’t get to just play with a demon all he likes and expect no repercussions.

Crowley pondered some more on that. Just thoughts of revenge and a devilishly ticklish angel he can’t wait to get his hands on.

. . .

a/n : hope u liked it!! thankfully not as sad as my last one i couldn’t take more angst LMAO

[riitah]

[to be a sorcerer] - geto suguru x gn!reader

WARNINGS: hidden inventory arc spoilers, mentions of death, blood, guns, fighting, and implied starvation, a little cursing SYNOPSIS: ever since the day suguru and satoru came back from their mission to retrieve the girl who was to merge with tengen, suguru has been kind of…off. so tonight, you decide to go visit him in the middle of the night in hopes of getting some answers, or, at least, bringing him some comfort. WORD COUNT: 1.1k HONORABLE MENTION: tysm beta reader “henry rumpelstiltskin III of the nuclear sock kingdom”!! AUTHOR’S NOTE: guys i’m so sorry i haven’t updated in so long writer’s block has been ERYGIUHOJWQEHRUR i hope you guys enjoy this AND OH YEAH THE NEW S2 TRAILER CAME OUT I’M LIKE SO HYPED FOR IT i literally had a whole pre-written s2 first trailer (a/n) i wanted to post but that was way too long ago but anyways here’s a geto x reader story i have sm more BUT IDK HOW TO WRITE THEM including crying scenes FUCK yk i feel like geto’s the type of guy who’d comfort people when they’re crying but never let anyone see him cry but when he cries it’s just really messy and emotionfull you get what i’m saying?? like he holds in his feelings for so long it just comes out all at once and ok i’ll stop now sorry if this feels a little too ooc

You stood in front of Suguru’s door in your pajamas, wondering if this was a good idea.

Is he already asleep…?

You turned to go back to your own room, but upon remembering the few bites he had taken of his lunch the past week, you decided against it. Hesitantly, you knocked, the sound of your knuckles against the wood echoing through the hallways. “Suguru? Can I come in?”

A beat of silence. “One second.” The sound of a bed creaking followed his voice, and just a few moments later, the door opened with a small creak.

Unfortunately, the sight of your boyfriend didn’t make you feel any more relieved. His hair framed his face messily, but they didn’t cover up the dark circles or hide the hollowness of his cheeks. The corners of his lips curved upwards when he saw you, but the smile never reached his eyes.

“(Y/N).” He stepped aside to let you in. “Staying up so late isn’t good for you, you know?”

“I could say the same about you.” You stepped into his dorm and he closed the door behind him. “It’s 2AM, and you have to go on a mission in a few hours.”

“I didn’t feel too sleepy.” He offered you his hand, and you took it, your eyebrows knitting together when you realized just how bony it felt. “And the rain wasn’t helping much. But now that you’re here, it’s a different story.” He led you to his bed and lied down, pulling you onto his chest in the process.

“Suguru! Warn me before you do that next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, because I‘m not letting go of you.” He rolled over so that the two of you were lying on your sides, wrapping his arms around you. “Ever.”

“I think you’re hanging around Satoru too much. You’re speaking and acting like him.” You laughed when he made a face at that statement.

“Don’t compare me to that guy.”

“Just ‘that guy’? He’d be so hurt if he heard you say that.”

“You know what I mean.” He pinched your cheek and gently rested his forehead against yours. “So, did you need something?”

“What, I can’t come visit my own boyfriend without a reason anymore?”

“Not when it’s two in the morning. But I might reconsider if you’re planning to stay the night.”

“Will that make you feel better?”

“Definitely. Though I feel just fine.”

“You don’t look fine…”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, pulling you closer to him and planting a brief kiss on your nose. “Really.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. You haven’t been getting much sleep, have you?”

He stared at you for a few moments, and the pitter-patter of the rain filled in the silence that had fallen over the conversation.

“...”

“Suguru…”

He then let out a tired sigh, his arms tightening around your waist just slightly. “You’re right. I haven’t.”

You brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“I just…can’t. Whenever I close my eyes, I see her.”

You took note of his heartbeat, which was rapidly speeding up. "Riko?"

He nodded and paused, trying to regain his composure before opening his mouth to speak again. “It's all still so vivid in my head. I can still hear the gun going off and–"

"You don't have to talk about it if it's painful, Suguru," you whispered softly.

He shook his head, giving you a weak smile. "No, I think it's better this way. I feel like I'm being suffocated." There was a slight tremble to his voice as he spoke, his sentences laced with nothing but regret. "When I do fall asleep, I always dream about the same thing. She dies, he tells me that he killed Satoru too, these people laughing at all of this as if it’s some sick sit-com–” He clutched at the hem of your top, his voice cracking. "Sometimes I can't help but think, what if I had just killed all of them off like Satoru said? Would I still be feeling this remorseful?"

You bit your lip at these words, not knowing what to say. Is there even a correct answer here?

Seeing the expression on your face, the muscles in his jaw tensed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you–"

"No, no, you didn't," you quickly reassured him. The rain had stopped, and the sound of raindrops hitting the glass was replaced with the sound of trees swaying in the wind. "And honestly, I don't blame you for thinking that way. People can be so cruel sometimes."

He swallowed. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I–" His voice cracked a little.

"It's okay to cry, Suguru." You cupped his face in your hands, placing a kiss on both of his cheeks. "I hate it when you hold it in."

He leaned into your touch, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“She had friends, family, she wanted to live–" he said quietly. "And they were clapping, cheering–" He broke into a sob. "(Y/N), I–I was supposed to protect her but I couldn’t–I couldn’t even do that right–"

It was the first time you had seen him break down like this, and your chest ached. You wiped away his tears with your thumb and ran your left hand through his long hair, desperately trying to come up with something to say to calm him down as he tried to talk.

“I feel so damn useless, even now I’m just–do you see this?” He looked up at you and placed a hand on top of your right hand, his thin fingers wrapping around it as if he was scared to lose you, too. “All I'm doing – all I can do – is replaying the events over and over.” He shook his head, his wet cheeks glistening in the soft moonlight. "I'm a jujutsu sorcerer, yet – yet I couldn't save her. I watched her die."

“It wasn’t your fault, Suguru. None of it was, I promise." You could barely hear yourself speak, but you hoped that your words could help somewhat. "I'm sure that she appreciated all that you've done for her."

You didn’t know how much time had passed when his choked sobs finally slowed down to hiccups, or how long you had been tracing circles on his hand with your thumb, but by the time the sun peeked from the trees in the distance, Suguru’s eyes were closed, his long lashes brushing against his damp cheek whenever his eyelids slightly fluttered.

"I'm sorry..."

You sighed at his sleeptalking, making a mental note to talk to him later about his tendencies to feel guilty about showing his feelings. "It's okay, Suguru. You shouldn't have to apologize for anything." You kissed his forehead and murmured a soft “I love you,” giggling a little when you saw a smile form on his delicate features.

Must be a nice dream, huh.

You closed your eyes, letting the familiar warmth lull you into a deep sleep.

[animeisforanimation]

Arcane: the finale

To be honest, I still don’t know what I think about s2 in general. But there’s a thing I can’t shake off: narrative threads, or rather, narrative foils.

There are a lot of ways to look at the ensemble cast, but I think the show is built around Vi and Jayce. The first tries to be the middle ground between Piltover and Zain (Cate and Jinx). The second is pushed into the role of a mediator between politics and science (Mel and Victor).

But Vi and Jayce are also Zaun and Piltover personified, no not even that - they are the ideal of the cities: a strong and capable fighter that stands for “her people” and a self-made man whose genius lets him “climb to the top” - both turn out to not be enough, both repeatedly fall or are thrown down from the pedestal - but they keep standing up. They keep making mistakes and then try to correct them.

Just like these two, the rest keep mirroring each other: Jinx and Victor are wild cards, genius scientists, but broken people, they keep hurting people around them and drowning into the despair and loneliness. They are both Zaunites at their core: but one tries to reform the system from ins de, while the other doesn’t really care, but still ends up trying to blow it up.

Caitlyn and Mel are the most interesting to me. Piltover’s golden girls, born into money and power, idealists who try to make the world around them better - except they do it in the most privileged way possible: Mel is opposed to violence, yet doesn’t realize, no consciously closes her eyes to the fact that even non violent avoidance breeds death and suffering, she barely meets a Zaunite, the whole conflict is more of an abstract for her. Caitlyn does get her hands dirty, but this only shows her prejudice and classism off more clearly. She’s just as idealistic, but her upbringing and her biases are undeniable. And these two women start the second season as the most powerful people in the city.

All that - and millions other details - make the story of Arcane a tapestry, or a spider web: you pull one string and the whole thing moves.

But the finale didn’t move a string, it took out the frame itself. As far as I can see, by reconciling the cities this fast and without really talking about the problems that bred the opposition in the first place, creators lost the edge.

The sisterly bond and the forbidden romance bloom and they are emotional as heck, but they suddenly become just that - not a mirror of a horrible mortifying problem. And I do find prison sex ok, actually - as they say, we never feel as alive as we do at the funerals and for Vi it is in a lot of ways just that - a funeral.

Jayce does see Mel morph into Victor, he finds his former partner alongside her - but there’s no politics left and barely any science left in the show (the older Medarda turns them into war and magic and the war is different. war against an outsider is always very different from a civil war. they are not interchangeable). Mel is gorgeous but wasn’t she more interesting as a fighter on a political arena, not a literal fighter? More unique, more real? And yes, the boys finding each other in every universe is very pretty and poetic, but again, they are some cosmic beings now, untethered from their humanity, from the things they initially represented, from everything but each other and their greater good(s).

On the other hand, there are other characters too. Other themes. And there are other interpretations of what’s important.

But for me characters in a story are more compelling not just as themselves, but as mirrors that reflects themes. And Arcane very heavily insinuated it was about class oppression and the way people (even well meaning people!) with power (physical, economical, political, scientific or any other) can cause the gap between the oppressor and the oppressed widen - only it was just insinuation, unfortunately. Alas.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Still with you in the wait and see approach. I need to be confident that relationship is bones and there won't be signs of it until at least the premiere.

that’s where i’m at too. i also just think someone needs to remind tim minear of what exactly his job is. his job isn’t to stir up fandom drama (and then complain about drama that he himself is partially to blame for but then refuse to directly call out the toxic ones) his job is to tell a story; but he decided that wasn’t what his job was the moment he scrapped 7b to rewrite it into whatever that mess was rather than just giving us an (admittedly) rushed backhalf of the season, and then open s8 up for NEW content.

No instead, he’s rehashing old storylines (gerrard), driving (literal) dead plotlines even further into the ground by creating new elements that there has never been any evidence of before (shannon), as well as actively giving the toxic fans he complained about the ammunition they need to continue being toxic (bt).

it feels like when he came back, he got this kind of god complex and is deciding to use 9-1-1 as his dollhouse for his wacky “masterpieces” that aren’t even that well thought out, and thinking that he needs to come up with these convoluted crazy plots to keep audiences interested, when most of the fandom have been vocal about how they miss the s2-4 era where it was just a procedural drama… not a hitchcock remake or an homage to classic b-movies.

i miss the energy of past seasons when yeah there was drama, but overall it was still a silly feel-good show; but then in s7 rather than emulating s1 and having it be a shorter reestablished character-focused season, he had it be both a character focus season (that decided to retcon and rewrite entire character traits of some people) as well as trying to cram in crazy drama plots (like listen, the cruise ship arc was decent, but it should have been focused on the storm/wave ONLY rather than the dumbass pirate plot that only took 10 minutes 💀).

so yeah, i’n trying to still remain positive and interact w headcanon/fanfiction content and posting the occasional “i hope we get this in s8”, but as far as actively speculating and teying to figure things out from photos or 2 second clips that will most likely only result in disappointment or frustration upon seeing the finished product, i’m not gonna hold my breath for anything.

Again if you wish to engage in spec and have fun with that, then by all means do! I just don’t have the mental capacity to do that healthily so i find it oftentimes more rewarding to keep my expectations low (especially after i got kinda spec crazy last season)

but also if you DO engage in spec, don’t try to gaslight and bully people, telling them that their interpretation is wrong just bc it’s not yours (meaning if someone is cautious about whether or not we’re getting buddie canon, don’t tell them they are delusional and insane bc ‘we absolutely 1000% are and there is no possibility we aren’t’ even tho it is very likely that we unfortunately won’t get buddie canon) i’ve had to make the decision to unfollow so many larger buddie blogs that i used to enjoy bc seeing the way they interact with fans’ concerns, low expectations, etc made me feel so icky bc they were beginning to sound like a certain part of the fandom (👀) and i don’t like that.

like i’m not going to go on someone’s post where they’re voicing their concerns and say “this is stupid that would never happen you’re delusional”

it’s one thing to be like “hey, i get that you may be stressed, but i look at it this way and that seems to help me” or to be like “good points, but if you look at this and this” but to actively make people feel stupid for having (objectively based on how s7 went) concerns about s8? that’s icky behavior to me idk

anyway i kinda hijacked this ask and went on alittle tangent, but no i am right there with you too on the “wait and see” of it all bc so far i have not seen anything truly promising about this season, and i honestly probably won’t until the show comes out and we actually get a feel for where tim’s brain is at this season (which…. knowing where his brain went last season doesn’t fill me with excitement)

[rosetheocto]

Hey! Hope you're doing well.

Firstly, really like your voice for Chi, I can tell why @gnomey22 mentioned it! Secondly, I was wondering if you'd be up for sharing any Failtopia headcanons?

AAAA hello!! and ty for the compliments on the voice! I love sharing the headcanons I have for this series so much, I tried to think of ones for these guys that haven’t really spread around all too much, most of this is a mix of silly and serious lol

headcanons under the cut :0

part of the reason why C!Failboat wasn’t considering the darker implications of having 15/16 year olds getting traumatized in his party until probably after his Wake Up Call is because of what he went through with his family when he was that age. it’s not an excuse, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he kinda internalized/normalized what he went through when he was younger and convinced himself that It’ll Be Fine for these guys to be going through The Horrors since he’s still alive and well after everything (he’s not having a good time)

Simple Bob DESPISES Mar, even after the timeskip and S2. Since Mar has been possessing Hank all this time, that means he’s the one who was responsible for Punnyatta’s death. Bob is never gonna let that go for as long as he lives (also Post Game Isn’t Real HE IS NOT UGLY)

Big Bill has a HUGE birth family, like you go back to their pond or whatever and it’s just a whole flock of ducks just chilling there. they aren’t even built like Bill, they’re just regular normal ducks lmaoo

Orion and Mrs. Oopsie knew each other since high school, and spent most of their time breaking the rules and getting in detention (you gotta pry the idea of a younger Orion being a troublemaker out of my cold dead hands) also they absolutely won prom king/queen together lol

Friend is around 1000 years old when S2 happens, and yes they’re immortal change my mind

Chat is the only one that can properly see Void. why this is? only they know

Chat also listens to BENJIxScarlett and similar… ‘songwriters’ somewhat often. they would 100% jam out to that slop let’s be real

Mar always had somewhat of a feeling that Lee and Hank were the same entity, yknow being in control of his body for decades and all, but tried to brush it off and assumed he was imagining things (huge mistake lmaoo)

Shrimp likes to occasionally invite other members of The Incident onto her livestreams after S2, (she let Chat in once. never again.) No matter who it is though the chaos that ensues during these streams will never not be entertaining

Erica and Bo’s relationship 100% reminded Orion of him and his wife’s when they were younger (Mrs. Oopsie was def a vampire before she got sent to Dr Pepper Hell trust me bro)

S2 Dark Curse is Dr. SHOOK!!! (this is canon trust me)

Chi has helped on stage effects for Shrimp’s concerts alongside Bill surprisingly often. Lanc has also chipped in occasionally, but it’s mainly Chi and Bill that do the heavy lifting

Mar has kept a good amount of his Dark Curse powers in S2, but he unfortunately had his strength reduced by Kazoo Man enough to where he can’t just snatch the faces back from the Mystery Curse on his own

I promise I have WAY MORE (for both seasons) I’m just tired and my brain is fried lol, again tysm for the ask!! :D

[dreamsandscenes]

My Thoughts On

FINN SHELBY

* Spoilers ahead for S1 - S6 of Peaky Blinders *

The way that Finn as a character was pushed aside and rendered useless 99% of the time is a shame. I wish Steven Knight had had different plans for him (or just any good plans at all would’ve been nice).

I do find the age gap between Finn and all the other siblings a bit too much. If we’re going by the wiki ages, which make sense within the show, Finn was born in 1908. This also must be his birth year, since in season 1 of the show, he says he’s about to be 11, and S1 starts in 1919. His oldest sibling, Arthur, was already 21, Tommy was 18, John was 13, and Ada was 11 when he was born. I can only imagine that the Shelby parents started having kids in their teens, because the age gap is massive. It would’ve made more sense for Finn to be Arthur or Tommy’s son, rather than their brother with that age gap.

It also drives a bit of a wedge between the older siblings and Finn, because Arthur, Tommy, John and Ada all grew up together. They experienced their difficult childhood together. Finn didn’t. Maybe this is part of the reason why I don’t see the same bond between Finn and his siblings as they all have with each other. Don’t get me wrong, they all loved him. I never doubted that. But as Finn grew into a man, I did wonder if all of them actually liked him.

We also know that Mrs Shelby died when Finn was a baby, and Mr Shelby left the family shortly after. Finn never had parents, but he had substitutes for those roles.

Polly was the only mother he ever knew. She raised him. That being said though, it did seem like when Michael came back into her life, Polly put Finn on the back burner. We didn’t really see much of them together at all, apart from in season 1. I don’t even know who Finn lived with in S3/S4, because he was still so young, he had to live with someone. I think Polly cared for him very well when he was a little boy, but once he got into his teens, and Michael was back in the picture, she didn’t seem to care as much. Maybe because he didn’t rely on her to take care of him so much because he was getting older, she took a step back, but I honestly don’t know why she didn’t seem to have more of an active role in his life from S2 onwards. Maybe we should just say it was a poor writing decision.

Both Arthur and Tommy seemed to fill the fatherly role in Finn’s life. They both looked out for him when they could. They, along with John when he got old enough, made sure to financially support Finn, and give him more than they had growing up. That being said, they weren’t the best role models. I mean, Finn was already doing cocaine at 13/14, something at least Tommy was apparently aware of. Granted, they didn’t necessarily understand the issues with cocaine at the time, but people knew it was a drug, and kids obviously shouldn’t be doing drugs, so I don’t know if Tommy should get a pass for that less than fantastic big brother behaviour.

After John’s death, Finn is clearly brought more into the Peaky Blinders fold, to fill the hole that John left behind. Unfortunately though, Finn lacked the ruthlessness that John had. He could never quite measure up. Perhaps because he never had to fight to get by, like his big brothers did, he didn’t have that drive to succeed. He just kind of skated by the whole time. He didn’t have the aptitude for violence that John had, so he disappointed Tommy/Arthur when it came to Peaky business because he couldn’t handle it, but that’s not really something I would blame Finn for. That’s more on his brothers for expecting & hoping that he’d be like John. Tbh, I don’t know why they didn’t just make him handle legitimate business, rather than the criminal stuff, because he clearly wasn’t suited to it.

I can’t really say a lot about his relationship with Ada, because I don’t remember any significant scenes between them, apart from the scene in 5x01 where Finn gets shot and talks to Ada for minute after the bullet is removed. It’s pretty brief though. You’d think he’d have more scenes with his only sister, and I think it could’ve been interesting to see the difference between his relationship with her versus his relationship with his older brothers, who he always felt like he had something to prove to.

In S6, we see that he gets married to a woman named Mary. We know nothing about Mary. She’s in maybe 2 scenes. We know nothing about their relationship. There’s no development or love story for them. I truly don’t know why this was included in the show because it added absolutely nothing. I can only assume that the marriage might have some sort of relevance in the movie. If it doesn’t, I just don’t see the point in including it all. It was a meaningless moment.

His friendship with Billy Grade is ultimately the thing that ruins him. He quickly becomes close friends with Billy when they work together. He trusted Billy, because he was always more trusting than his brothers, so he told him things he shouldn’t have.

By the time we get to the end of S6, where he has to choose between shooting Billy, or saving him by shooting Duke or Isiah, he has been friends with Billy for years. It doesn’t really feel like that as a viewer because of the time jumps between seasons, but Billy was presumably his best friend by that point. With that in mind, was I supposed to be surprised that he tried to shoot Duke to save Billy? He didn’t know Duke. Duke meant nothing to him. Isiah used to be his friend, but they seem to have drifted apart as they got older. Obviously he wasn’t going to choose Duke, or Isiah, over his friend.

If Tommy and Arthur were in that room, instead of Duke and Isiah, I think things would’ve happened differently. When faced with a choice between his brothers and his friend, I think he would’ve chosen his brothers. I definitely don’t think he would’ve ever pointed a gun at either of them or tried to shoot them. But when faced with a guy he barely knew and a friend he wasn’t that close to anymore, he chose Billy. Yes, Billy was an informant, albeit a reluctant one, but he wasn’t only that to Finn.

Do I think he deserved to be disowned by the family at the end of S6 for this decision? No. I think he should’ve been punished in some way, and moved to the legitimate side of the business, because he simply wasn’t smart enough to handle the criminal side of things. I just find it hard to imagine the Shelby’s disowning one of their own, even one that does stupid stuff like Finn. That’s still their baby brother. I don’t like that as Finn’s ending in the show. It was bad enough when SK turned Michael into an antagonist; I don’t want to see Finn meet the same fate in the movie.

I’m really hoping Finn isn’t an antagonist in the PB movie. I really don’t want to see that. I don’t think that one situation with Billy would fully turn Finn against his family anyway. Against Duke maybe, but not his brothers. If he is one of the villains in the movie, I’m going to be disappointed. I’d rather see his final ending in the movie be him coming back into the family, and in some way finally earning the approval of his brothers. Perhaps he could do the whole double agent thing, where the audience thinks he’s a villain, but he’s actually helping his family. I don’t know, I just want more from him as a character than an antagonist storyline.

That’s kind of the way I felt about Finn the entire series; I just wanted more from him. He was always falling a bit short as a character for me. Never quite hitting the mark. I hope that he can finally reach his potential in the movie.

[silverpen-and-paper]

my thoughts on lokius

[loki season 1 spoilers!]

season 2 is coming out in a few days (!!) and so i decided i’d write out my thoughts on lokius before it’s released. as a disclaimer, this is critical of the series, but not completely series-negative.

if lokius becomes canon in s2, i genuinely want to be happy about it. it would be amazing steps in queer rep for marvel to have a canonical lgbtq couple as the focus of the show (and i say this as a queer person myself).

but the way mobius and loki’s relationship was written seems to be only thought-out on the surface level (which is the case for a lot of the things in the show), and a lot of aspects of their relationship aren’t so great when you look deeper into it. i understand why people don’t notice and/or don’t want to acknowledge it — i was extremely enthusiastic about the ship, and i didn’t notice the problems either. to those looking at lokius with the most positive light, they have an amazing dynamic and are adorable and wholesome and all great things. so i get the hype, i really do (tbh, i shipped it so hard that several months ago when the problems were pointed out to me it ruined my week).

but even with how much i loved it, i didn’t want to just ignore any potential problems. so i distanced myself from the ship for a few weeks until i was in a better headspace to gather my thoughts.

first i’ll start with what was intended:

mobius is obviously intended to be a very kind and understanding character. whether or not the writers wanted it to come across as platonic or romantic, they wanted him to care deeply about loki. like loki said though: “no one good is ever truly good, and no one bad is ever truly bad.” the writers did give mobius at least one major flaw and a character arc, in that he believed in the goodness of the tva too much, but by the end of s1, he was all for taking it down . 

you can see his flaw in the way he treats loki early on. sylvie’s been killing minutemen and stealing reset charges from the tva for a long time, and he wants loki’s help in finding her, so mobius does what the tva expects: he uses what he knows about loki to get them (somewhat) on the tva’s side. unfortunately, that happens to be psychologically breaking loki. compared to outright pruning from existence, which most of the tva seems to prefer, it’s no wonder he thinks this is the better option. (the fact that the show portrays this as a “therapy session” is a whole problem in itself, but i won’t get into that.)

things like this that mobius does early in the series can be explained by his faith in the tva’s mission. he didn’t agree with most of their methods, and he didn’t realize that even his actions (viewed by the tva as too merciful) were still significantly harmful, but he believed the tva ultimately worked for the good and safety of the entire universe. it’s not an excuse, but it could be forgiven in his later character arc when he realizes that he was wrong, regrets his actions, apologizes, and learns.

but then there’s the part when he puts loki in the memory cell.

i really, really hate that marvel did that. they easily could have had a very similar memory cell situation without having mobius be the one to put loki in there. (mobius could have left the room in anger, and then the guards or ravonna throw loki in there without mobius’ knowledge, for one example.) but instead, whoever wrote that plot point apparently didn’t understand how bad that was, and so it is, unfortunately, canon. 

you might be inclined to say that it wasn’t that bad. because actions in fantastical situations can make things harder to distinguish, i’ll put a real-world comparison: one partner puts the second partner somewhere they KNOW that the second will get repeatedly both physically and verbally attacked. they do this simply because they think that they’ve been cheated on. even if they had been cheated on, that in no way excuses beating up the second partner, directly or indirectly.

hopefully you can recognize that as obvious abuse. even if the abuser later deeply regrets it and rescues their partner, the fact that they did it in the first place NEEDS to be addressed. i don’t know what exactly could repair a relationship after that, but brushing it under the rug and ignoring it won’t help. (and this is still abuse with a platonic reading of the relationship.)

if marvel hadn’t done that (and had handled mobius’ arc better in general) then there would be far less problems with the lokius ship. but since they did, us as fans have to figure out where to go from here, whether that’s writing or reading fix-it-fics or simply acknowledging that the problems exist.

hopefully the people running s2 are more competent and have figured something out to fix this. i really hope that’s the case. but it is marvel.

(sidenote: from things that tom hiddleston and owen wilson have said in interviews i’ve seen, i don’t think they noticed the problems either. maybe they have background context of things that aren’t in the official show but they accepted them as canon. or they just didn’t notice, like is the case with many fans.)

[vanderspeiglemd]

Harry Vanderspeigle went from a good autistic read character—albeit tv stereotypical—to a full-on offensive caricature of a disabled person. He’s Roger from American Dad crossed with Corky from Life Goes On (+ a dash of Urkel) but because of the ‘alien’ label the show has carte blanche to write those around him as cruel and gives the audience the free pass to laugh at him, both because of the characteristics he shares with disabled people.

Intent is irrelevant when what you create doesn’t exist in a vacuum and implicit biases come through. There are real people who have the same characteristics as Harry and the show infantalizes him to no end, calls him stupid, malicious, and a burden to those around him. Mostly that it’s funny and justified to mock/dismiss him. It happens constantly—especially and most unfortunately from Asta—but in particular that car ride in the 2x13 was genuinely hard to watch. Two people bullying him in a scene where he was deliberately portrayed as more of a ‘child’, so he deserved it for being annoying or something. (this isn't even going into the abuse he gets from darcy under the terf guise of 'he's a man so he's bad')

This wasn’t an issue in s1, I was surprised he was treated well and that Alan's performance was nuanced. But once the season 2 devolution of his character began (s2 pt2 was a complete redo for his character. He learned lessons we’d already seen in s1, sometimes using the exact same scenes/lines, flanderized versions ofc) along with a jarringly awkward, loud, and off putting physical performance that feels like a long antiquated disabled caricature, it was a slippery slope to forced stupidity depending on the scene and a lot of mockery. As if his former self was too 'normal' to be the socially acceptable punching bag. I suppose the change isn't hard to believe when the runner was a shit ass family guy producer, s1 just didn't have enough time to show true colors I guess.

[kralmajales]

8 and 9. These two were so good I didn't even read the other prompts lol.

These are good ones oooooh okay . Doing IwtV for you.

8. Common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Literally where do I start. I’m going to go with the idea that any ship is endgame or anything can’t be forgiven at any point. I hate to be like this is the evil vampire polycule show but like unfortunately it is indeed the evil vampire polycule show. I’m lowkey becoming a bookgirl bc the lore is fun and I’ve created an interpretation that is just me cherry-picking from the book and the show into Feliksvision™ but it’s definitely affected how I view things so it’s always so jarring when people are like. “Thank god Loumand is over, Louis will NEVER forgive him and now he can focus on his soulmate Lestat” bc ONE. That’s giving Louis waaaaaay too much credit like I love him but the Loumand windivorce is all too clear to me. And like. Vampires forgive each other for some really crazy shit, sorry. TWO. They’re all in evil love. All of them in any combination. It just looks different from partnership to partnership. (Don’t get me started on the apparent fandom consensus on “Armand’s fanfiction” bc I am a lesmand truther they are SO funny to me I love them and am praying for s3 to shut those people up.) THREE. Damn let Louis focus on himself.

Another fandom opinion that bothers me is this idea that Daniel Molloy is a reliable narrator. I think it’s very important to the story that Daniel is making assumptions just like any other character and yeah, he has a bit of clarity via separation and being good at his job, but like. He has his own agenda and absolutely jumps to conclusions that may or may not be true. It’s very funny to me that people treat his conclusions as the end all be all explanations for things. Also bouncing off of that, I think it’s hilarious when people say that they can’t wait for s3 to hear the true story from Lestat. LESTAT? LESTAT DE LIONCOURT? That’s your reliable narrator???? It’s so funny to me. Why are the white men your reliable narrators……… not to sense a trend here but I’m sensing a trend.

I could really go on but I’m gonna pivot to

9. Worst part of canon

Okay. So I’m going with the show here because we’d be here all night with the books. I hope this is a safe space to say. I did NOT like the s2 finale. I think it was rushed and wasn’t satisfying and I think Lestat saving the day in the end was boring and didn’t really make sense with Armand’s motivations. On a related note- I really hated brain ghost Lestat. I don’t think he was necessary and I think he detracted from a lot of the emotional weight of the Paris story… a lot of those scenes and especially Armand’s betrayal would’ve hit harder if he wasn’t there and we could’ve played the Loumand love story straight. I also think him coming back for real for the trial would’ve hit harder if he wasn’t around the entire season besides the portrait and hiding their connection. Please don’t get me wrong bc I think this whole thing is just making me sound like a Lestat hater. And like. I am. But I DO think he can be used very well as a character, they just overuse him. Which is very Anne Rice so the show comes by its fault here honestly. Still annoying though.

[theshippirate22]

Well s1 Nancy is a hypocrite. At first she was pissed at Mike for being upset that Will went missing because she would miss out on her date with Steve. Then she got mad that nobody was listening to her when her best friend was gone. Same with the Steve situation, all he asked was to leave out the alcohol because he was scared of his dad's reaction but she twisted it in a way that was like you don't care about Barb, but then literally lied about having sex, which is imo more important to the story because that was the reason why she and Barb fought and why Barb was then missing. Nancy only cares about stuff if it's directly affecting her, if Barb wouldn't have gone missing she wouldn't have helped Jonathan to find Will.

Same in s2 she brushed over Steve's feelings of being scared to expose the government and accused him of not caring, when he actually did. Like he just didn't want to get killed and wanted to keep her and everyone else involved in safe.

YES! 100% YES! ALL OF THIS

I actually think Nancy is a really good non-conventional antihero. Like, yeah she wants justice for Barb and she’ll bring the people who hurt her to face their crimes and shit but she has that ick factor of being really selfish and hypocritical. It’s not the typical this-likable-protagonist-sometimes-does-illegal-things-for-the-greater-good watered down bullshit

unfortunately, because of this, she’s like uber unlikable and it’s like one of those paradoxes where it’s excused that’s she’s done all this obnoxious selfish shit because we just have already acknowledged that we don’t like her

and also? it feels like everyone holds steve to a different standard, whether it’s because he’s a guy (which is bs) or because barb wasn’t his friend or something but it’s like yeah, okay, nancy you’re grieving or whatever (even though she’s just missing, it’s basically the assumption that she’s dead right) but maybe steve is too! when i was in high school i had 6+ peers die and even though i only knew one of them personally it hit me so hard everytime because when you’re a teenager, people don’t die. death is too abstract to comprehend. so you just become like uncomfortably aware of your own mortality and you like get really anxious for no reason. and then to have someone go missing from your own backyard would be really jarring and i think he has every much right to be “grieving” as she is.

it’s all just. bullshit.

she got one thing right.

*thanks for coming to my TedTalk*

[invisibleicewands]

Hello! You are so good at writing review, I really like it! What is your opinion about Good Omens S2? To be honest, I hadn't have any expectations, so I wasn't upset by the plot. But, to my mind, unfortunately, there was a lot of bad writing, unnecessary characters and primitive dialogues compare to the first season.

Hi, Anon!

Thank you for your trust, even if mine are more random thoughts. I have to tell you, I’m not a binge watcher (I prefer to taste the episodes one by one, slowly) but this time I chose to make an exception watching it all in three days, with the last ten final minutes seen immediatly the first day, just to avoid the spoilers online (like “away the tooth away the pain“). So, my view could be affected by this.

Over the last few months I've been making a certain idea about the 2nd series and now I can say it wasn’t completely wrong, even though the result is maybe a bit better than my first expectations.

I find GO2 being like a colorful circus, with a parade of artists doing their best numbers and where MS and DT were the best attraction, the trapeze artists.

The plot is a pretext, 100% fans service: to monetize again the success of the first season, following the dreams’ fans, using their fanfictions as inspiration for the script, then putting all together in a glossy package with a bow on top: some fireworks, a bit of special effects and the effort of two titans, MS and DT, who took the 80% of the weight of this mission on their shoulders.

As very 'serious' and professional actors, with a background of theatre, tv and cinema, they did a wonderful job, transforming with their talent every line in something precious, every scene unforgettable, with skilful expressions or little gestures, even during the boring moments. They put on the table all the tricks of their playbooks to play their characters. Sometimes I saw some of Bill Masters’ glances, sometimes there were Kenneth Williams or Aro or Castor’s vibes. And the episodes were rich of references to their previous works too (Bright Young Things, Dr.Who, etc.), like a showcase of their careers.

I particularly liked Crowley’s clever lines, his dry humour, his pragmatism, also his soft side. A bit less, I must say, Aziraphale character, who was sometimes too much unnecessarily stubborn or dull if compared with the first season, too much 'Wesley Snipes'. But the actors, as I said, were both excellent and a wonder for the eyes. A mention for Jon Hamm too: I thought the nice reviews for his performance were exaggerated, but his scenes were really funny (his hug to Aziraphale xD), maybe because of the contrast between the absurdity of the moments combined with his mono-expression-marble-face. Pity for his story, which had to be the core of the mistery but was revealed and explained in a superficial and hurried way just in the last few minutes.

And here we are, the story. I've found the first two episodes well written, with comic scenes and smart lines, good timing, but then something suddendly changed: the plot became plain, childish, predictable. IMHO a lot of time has been wasted to tell useless or not so interesting stories. The barely hinted relationship between Nina and Meggie, the mere rethoric of their speech to Crowley, all the chaos of the demons battle for nothing, the travel to the cemetary in Scotland and all the resurrectionist thing. Plus, a lot of stereotypical characters: the ridiculous zombies, the boring angels of the Paradise, all like clowns, dolls to fill the void. And Jane Austen. There was nothing really important about her, just her name to justify a ball in regency dresses. Not enough for me. Also, the la-la land love story between Gabriel and Beelzebub to give a meaning to the mistery (really?), was cold and too quick to be interesting.

The turning point at the end of the 6th episode and it was like suddendly watching Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford in The Way We Were. MS and DT were simply amazing in giving to that scene such a depth and drama (nervous breakdown Aziraphale?), but the effect I felt was a bit alienating compared to what I'd seen just before. Like a leap too big, like watching two completely different and separate shows.

The final. Moving, exciting, wonderfully acted but... of course was not a final (like MoS ending in season 3). They should have called this Good Omens vol.2, like Kill Bill, since it’s obvious that was not a real end. Everything has been written for a third part since the beginning and you can see it, even if they tried to hide it somehow. Honestly I don't know if I wish to see another chapter, 'cause I'm worried about Michael's hair at this point... (I'm evil, I know)

Jokes apart, I think it was surely an entertaining, light, funny, moving, show with some brilliant moments and others less, and two great actors who covered the flaws with their skills. But I struggle to see it like a masterpiece or something worthing of an award (the special effects and the make up too, were a bit cheap). It needed of something more in the writing, for example, to reach The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel league, just saying.

But for sure it was a gold mine for fans and gif makers. ;)

A music video, to heal the heart of a demon:

[techslander]

TBB S3 Thoughts

Unorganized rambles about the recent news!

The Bad Batch always gave me a feeling of finality, so I’m not really shocked at it ending at the third season, though I am surprised that it wasn’t pushed for a fourth. I don't know if a fourth season would’ve been better or helped the story breathe more but s2 preformed well in reviews so it’s a little shocking that they aren’t trying to milk it like everything else, however we do know animation doesn’t get treated well regardless. 

I’m happy that this is, as far as I can tell, a planned ending. The s2 finale felt very “go big or go home” and setting up for a large climatic end, so the fact that they’re able to tell the story they want without cutting it short or unnecessarily dragging it out is nice. 

Tech. Ohhhhh boy. I’ve been all over the place emotionally about him but cognitively I’ve come around to accepting whatever the writers have in store for him. When s3 was announced as the final season I felt very solid in him being gone for good, but then Joel Aron made this tweet:

and. yeah. This was in response to someone talking about how they wanted to see the batch all together again and how we likely would never get that. If it’s a fluke then it's a pretty sick prank to be pulling, but honestly I’ll take whatever hope I can. I’ll be damned if this isn’t about Tech. His death always seemed very sketchy to me and I was and am fully team #TechLives because I refuse to believe they’d call falling into mist a decent death. Tech will get his own post soon but consider the fact that his death did exactly what they wanted it to: drum up social media buzz for the next season. 

The fate of the rest of the Batch is still up in the air for me. If Tech comes back, then I think it’s possible we’ll get the “happy ending on Pabu”, but if Tech isn’t coming back, I’m highly anticipating a Rogue One moment. I don’t know. It’s a give and take. And tonally I can’t see an ending with all but one alive as satisfying, unless they’re all gone, but that’s just me. 

Finally, spin-off potential? I’ve seen people talking about a Captain Rex clone uprising spin-off because one article said that this was the end of The Bad Batch as “this part of the story”, implying there’s more, which is possible, but if so it’s probably years away and unfortunately I am too emotionally attached to Tech to watch new clone content without him anytime soon. It’s an interesting idea and I PRAY this isn’t the end of the clone stories in Star Wars. 

[grindy-cog]

What do you mean by Alex having power Michael? In a dom/sub way? Not judging, just curious.

Dear Anon,

Thank you for your question!

I suppose you could see it in a dom/sub way, though that wasn’t exactly what I was after? Do I think that Michael, despite his rebellious ways, has a clear need of pleasing and - to some extent- obeying those he loves the most? Yes, absolutely. But it doesn’t need to be read in a dom/sub way, sexual or otherwise, though there’s nothing wrong with that take either🤷‍♀️

However, I was more after Guerin pretty much always following Alex’s lead in many ways, and the youngest Manes being more or less the only one to get through Michael when he was being too stubborn, self-destructive or emotional for his own good. Of course, as long as Alex’s own issues and insecurities weren’t hitting too close home, but that’s another matter and not what you asked for.

Now, I don’t know how you’d see it; if the reason behind that behaviour was the fact that Michael definitely fell for Alex first; or if it was related to the sad truth of Alexander being the first person giving a damn about Guerin, Max and Isobel aside. That he knew about, anyway. Or maybe, because he could relate to Alex on many levels, crappy family life included…

If you asked me, I’d say it’s a combination of the three but most of all, Michael’s own personality and how he loves. It’s hidden and unpredictable but once out? Absolutely powerful and fierce and soul and body consuming, like the fire in his blood. But also protective, unashamed and with no way to hide.

I mean, he certainly gave his bastar.d of a father some serious whiplash with how intense he was. How completely unlike him, or even Nora in this way.

And I think Alex, because of his own personality and the way he loves, could have always tamed that fire in Michael a bit; probably even unknowingly at first, made it calmer, quieter, a gentle fire to warm up next to, instead of an unpredictable disaster.

So, in a way, Alex has a power over Michael; always had, always will, and not a bad one, too. But this is why it was such an important and milestone breakthrough moment for Guerin to finally tell Alex ‘no’. It had nothing to do with them not loving each other enough, or not fighting strong enough for one another. It definitely had nothing to do with Maria at that point. It came down to Michael, through his grief and powerful emotions, finally understanding that they both needed to grow first. Unfortunately, separately.

He was right in saying that at that point in their lives, they weren’t good for one another. He wanted to be good for somebody, and Alex wasn’t ready yet, not really. He had to come out of his shell completely first, to let himself get burn a little every once and awhile. Otherwise he’d always end up leaving, and one day, in this way or another, it’d finally be too much for Michael. That would be something they’d never come back from.

Do I wish that we could’ve avoided some unnecessary drama in s2? Heck, yes. But all those strange writing choices and even stranger plot, led to a genuine healing and character’s growth with Malex.

Hope I answered your question and take care!