#tw mention of needle

[psychologicalwarclaire]

Remember the thing I wrote about Mikey getting shot? Here's part three!

Part 1 & 2 | Part 4 (coming soon)

They hit the ground hard, crashing into the center of the Lair. 

Mikey half sobbed, half screamed at the jolting landing. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo cried out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for us to fall that far. I’m sorry!” 

“Leo? Mikey?!” Raph stood over them, horror etched on his face. 

“Raph!” Leo’s voice cracked. He couldn’t break now. He still had so much work to do. “Raph…” He couldn’t seem to say anything else. He was just so relieved to see him, but still so scared. He could feel his baby brother bleeding out in his arms. “Raph. Raph, Raph–” 

Raph dropped to his knees. Both of his hands shot out, one to cradle Mikey’s head, and the other to rest on Leo’s shoulder. “I need you to focus, Leo,” he said in a deadly serious voice. “Tell me what happened later. Donnie is preppin’ the med bay but he can only do so much. Can you save Mikey?” 

Leo squeezed his eyes shut. He’d never done anything like this before. None of them had ever been in this sort of condition before. He didn’t have the experience, didn’t have the knowledge– 

“Leo.”

He wanted so badly to shove Mikey into Raph’s arms and pass out. But Mikey would die if Leo did that. He was the only one who could possibly save Mikey. 

Mikey let out a pitiful whine. With heavy-lidded, cloudy eyes, Leo wasn’t sure exactly how conscious he was anymore. All he knew was that Mikey was in severe pain. He stared down at Mikey, unable to move. 

“Leo!” Raph shook his shoulder. Mikey sobbed. “Leo, can Mikey count on you to save him?” 

Raph always knew exactly what Leo needed, and those were the right words to snap Leo out of his spiral and directly into action. He nodded. 

Leo tried to stand, he really did. But his legs were shaking too hard, and his arms were too busy clutching Mikey to himself. He couldn’t get up. “Raph,” his voice still trembled, “I need you to carry us there.” 

“Raph’s on it.” With impossibly gentle arms, Raph scooped them up and began sprinting to the med bay. 

Mikey screamed with each step. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Leo whispered. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” They weren’t supposed to move him like this. Not until he was stabilized. But there was nothing else Leo could think to do at that moment. 

Whether out of breath or out of time, Mikey’s screams faded into wheezing, ragged breaths. Leo panicked like he never had before. Whether from blood loss or pain, Mikey had passed out. But Leo could still feel Mikey’s faint heartbeat, fluttering like the hope he cradled almost as tightly as his brother. 

Raph ran faster. 

As the med bay doors came into view, Leo attempted to take a steadying breath. He didn’t know what exactly the next few hours of scrambling to save Mikey’s life would entail, but he knew that it was all on his shoulders. 

As Mikey was gently layed out on the cot, Leo allowed himself one moment to take in his injuries under the bright medbay light. 

His shoulder was a torn, bloody mess due to a horrifically ragged bullet exit wound. Mikey’s whole arm hung at an awkward, limp angle. The top right quarter of his shell was mangled: cracked from the impact, splintering apart, and some of it was simply gone. Dark blood had welled between the fissures. In fact, blood was everywhere. Staining Mikey’s hands from where he’d tried to stop the bleeding, spilling down his plastron, congealing on his head where the barrel had hit him. Grimy streaks of gunk from the disgusting floor of the alleyway only added to the horrifying picture. 

In fact, the only part of him that wasn’t splattered in some way were the tear tracks cutting down his cheeks. Leo wondered how much he’d cried when he’d left, believing that Leo must have abandoned him. 

If Leo hadn’t felt Mikey’s weak pulse with his own hands only seconds ago, he might have assumed the worst from looking at Mikey’s pained, pale face. 

He was shaking. 

Leo got to work. 

—

The edges of Leo’s vision were fuzzy as he pressed a damp rag to his baby brother’s clammy, warm forehead. Entirely honed in, nothing else in the world mattered except that Mikey kept breathing. 

Ragged, shallow, pained breaths, but breathing nonetheless. 

Mikey’s face was still scrunched in pain, as it had been for hours. A small whine that sounded far too much like a heart monitor in a flatline came from Mikey’s throat. 

“It’s okay,” Leo whispered, his voice hoarse from barking orders at his family. “I’ve got you. I promise.” 

It had been fourteen, maybe fifteen hours since Leo had portaled into the middle of the Lair, clutching a bleeding, broken brother. Everything still felt broken. Everything was still broken. 

If Leo had been asked to recount exactly what had happened in the many white-knuckled hours before, he would not have been able to recall very much. He didn’t even know what time it was anymore. 

All he remembered was Mikey’s orange bandana stained a dark red. Shards of Mikey’s shell held loosely in his hands. Donnie’s frozen gaze that had forced Leo to yell at him to get moving several times as he’d scrambled to hook up monitors. Accidentally missing Raph’s vein the first try during the critically needed blood transfusion. Towels and rags becoming a deeper and deeper pink as wounds were cleaned. Mounting horror that rose with Mikey’s temperature as Leo realized that he had developed an infection. Worst of all, he remembered the way Mikey’s heartbeat faded in and out. 

Uneven. Unsteady. 

Until it had stopped altogether. 

Leo didn’t remember the chest compressions or the defibrillator or the medication or the frantic voices of his brothers or the weird blue sparks that had circled his shaking hands as his markings glowed. He only remembered being blinded by sharp, icy-white panic.

Whichever of the treatments actually worked, Leo didn’t remember through the relieved haze. 

He’d saved him. 

He’d gotten Mikey’s heart to beat again. But it still took everything to keep it that way. 

Hours after the stitches, the bandaging, the arduous process of the pitiful shell repair they managed to do, the antibiotics, the transfusion, and every other necessary procedure, Mikey was only slightly more stable. 

Even after everything he’d done, Leo’s world remained only a few heartbeats away from shattering forever. 

Leo re-wet the cloth and pressed it Mikey’s overheating head once more. His free hand clung to Mikey’s motionless one. A hand that always had paint or clay or glitter under the fingernails. A hand that had painted countless scenes of their family together. Hands that lovingly kneaded dough for delicious pizza. Hands that always tapped and twitched and booped and snapped and clapped and made every sort of happy noise. 

But now Mikey’s hands were perfectly still in Leo’s grip. Unnatural and upsetting. No matter how hard Leo squeezed, Mikey’s fingers didn’t so much as twitch. 

Distantly, someone made a sound that might have been Leo’s name. 

It took him a few seconds to register that someone else was there. Finally, Leo slowly raised his head, looking around. 

“Leo,” Raph said in a low voice, “let me watch over him for a while.” 

Leo shook his head. Immediately, he regretted doing so, as the world continued to sway even after he stopped. 

“Leo, please. You almost look as terrible as he does. Get some sleep.” 

“I can’t.” Leo’s voice was so scratchy it hardly even sounded like himself. It hurt to speak. “I need to be here in case something happens again.” 

“The worst is over. And even if somethin’ did happen, you wouldn’t be able to do anythin’ in this state. Mikey and I will be right here the whole time. Just… please rest.” Raph tugged the cloth out of Leo’s stiff fingers. 

He didn’t react. 

“Leo, you’ve been workin’ nonstop for almost sixteen hours now. You did it. He’s safe.” 

“We’re not safe,” Leo whispered, staring at nothing. “She’s still out there. She wants Donnie.” The woman’s cold face and the even colder glint off the barrel of the gun were burned into Leo’s mind. He doubted the Foot Clan had been able to stop her for long. Even if they had, there would still be consequences for tangling with… whoever she was. 

“Donnie’s upping security right now,” Raph continued in that same gentle voice. 

Of course. Someone should probably go make sure Donnie wasn’t blaming himself for what had transpired in the alley. Yes, the woman had been searching for him because of money he’d apparently stolen from her, but Donnie had no idea what he’d been getting into. Donnie never intended for any of this to happen. Donnie, who once set a table on fire because Mikey had stubbed his toe on it, wouldn’t rest until he was positive his baby brother was safe. Donnie may be blaming himself, but Leo knew who had fired the gun. And why. 

Leo hadn’t been able to rat Donnie out. And because of that, Mikey’s shoulder and surrounding shell had been blasted apart. 

The flash and immediate spray of red were branded onto Leo’s brain. But what was infinitely worse was the absolute shock and terror of Mikey’s face, and the way it crumpled into agony within a second. 

And then the fall. 

He had taken, it seemed, hours to fall forward. A slow arc downwards where he had crashed to the pavement. 

The bright white medbay and disgusting dark alleyway could not have been more different, but to Leo, everything was blurring together. It didn’t matter where he was, Mikey needed him. He needed to keep watching over him. 

It was the absolute least he could do. 

“Leo, please, you’re scarin’ me.” The Raph Chasm looked even more serious than usual. “Say somethin’, please.” 

Dozens of things he could– should– say flashed through Leo’s head. 

It’s my fault. 

You didn’t see his face when it happened, Raph. You don’t know. 

It was all so horrible. 

I can’t leave him. 

None of them left his tight throat. He didn’t know what to say to Raph. He didn’t know what he would say to Mikey if– when he woke up. 

All he could think about was being dragged away from Mikey’s prone figure, slumped in a growing pool of blood. Leo had screamed and kicked and fought with everything in him to get back to his brother. And nothing had worked. 

Leo had left him there. 

Entirely alone. 

Mikey had literally bled out in darkness, surrounded by grime and garbage. 

“I’m not leaving him again,” Leo whispered. 

Raph drew breath, like he could possibly say something to change Leo’s mind. 

“They forced me to leave him, Raph. Dragged me away. I’m not going to do that again. He needed me and I wasn’t there. I’m not going to do it again. I’m not going to– I’m not–” 

“I didn’t say you should leave the medbay,” Raph said calmly, carefully avoiding making eye contact with Leo. He’d taken over the work of gently caressing Mikey’s forehead with the rag he’d taken from Leo (When had he done that?). It was honestly amazing how levelheaded Raph had managed to remain while his littlest brother hung in the balance. Leo supposed it was a defense mechanism so he didn’t freak out and make things worse. “Go grab pillows or something. You can stay, you just have to sleep. Got that?” 

Leo conceded.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, squeezing Mikey’s motionless hand. Letting go was harder than it should have been. He forced his fingers to loosen and pull away. 

The echo of a gunshot flashed through Leo’s mind, Mikey’s terrified eyes reflecting distant streetlights– 

A screaming flatline– 

“NO!”

Lurching forward, Leo’s hands latched onto Mikey’s wrist, instantly relieved to feel a pulse underneath. His ears rang. He couldn’t breathe. Over and over and over again, he saw and heard and smelled– 

“Leo!” Raph’s steady hand gripped Leo’s bicep. “Hey, it’s over, okay? I promise that Mikey is safe. It’s all thanks to you. It’s okay.” 

“It’s because of me,” Leo whispered. 

“Yes, it’s because of you that he’s home safe.” 

“No–” 

“Yes, it’s because of you his little heart is still beating.” 

“No–” 

“Yes. Leo. Look at me.” 

Tearing his eyes away from Mikey’s slowly rising and falling chest was almost impossible, but he managed to meet Raph’s eyes. Leo was shocked to see his own fear and guilt reflected back. 

“I’m scared too. You saw how much I panicked when you two dropped in covered in blood. You saw how I could barely sit still during the transfusion.” Leo’s gaze dropped to the gauze around Raph’s inner elbow. Had that only been a few hours ago? “If you go to sleep, it’ll seem like he’ll wake up faster, won’t it?” 

Leo had gone back to staring down at Mikey’s pinched face. “I know all that. I just… can’t leave.” 

Raph sighed. “Raph’s too soft with you guys. I’ll go get pillows and stuff with the understandin’ that you will attempt to sleep once they’re in here. Got that?” 

“Yeah.” 

Raph left. 

For the millionth time in the past however many hours, Leo checked over Mikey’s vitals again. They hadn’t changed much; he still wasn’t doing great. High fever, shallow breathing, and a heart rate that still hadn’t stabilized. He didn’t know what else he could do. It didn’t feel safe giving him any more antibiotics, and moving him to change bandages again was going to require more hands. Leo didn’t want to think about long term shell repair. He didn’t want to look at the cracks, at the splintered shell, any longer than he had to. 

“I’m back! It is now officially Raph’s-Turn-O’Clock.” 

“He’s not stable yet,” Leo protested. 

“Leo, we had a deal.” 

“What if something else happens? If his blood pressure–” 

Raph dumped mounds of pillows and blankets at Leo’s feet. “I’ll wake you up if something changes. I swear on Pizza Supreme.” 

The moment the pile fwump’ed at his feet and Leo felt soft fabric against his shins, his legs all but gave out. With one final squeeze of Mikey’s hand, Leo sank to the floor. It felt so wrong not to be holding onto Mikey anymore. Surely, Raph had tricked him! Sedated him without him knowing! Something other than just being in the presence of pillows had to be going on. 

“How are you… so calm about this?” Leo muttered, fighting off sleep for as long as he could. 

“Oh believe me, Raph’s not. Once Raph knows everythin’ is okay then he’ll probably have an epic breakdown. Delayed stress response, n’ stuff. You’re not the only one who almost lost their little brother, Leo.” 

“Hmmm,” Leo managed. His limbs were heavy and his mind was filled with fuzz. 

A beeping heart rate faded into the beat that Leo’s legs followed as he ran through dream after dream, trying all the while to get to Mikey.

[lgbtqtext]

[reyrapidsbutgayer]

Ranking All Shadow of the Erdtree Bosses and NPC's by Fuckability.

It's finally time. The sequel to the 2nd worst post I've ever made.

I 100%-ed the DLC and it was fantastic. Time to find out which new characters are the most fuckable.

In this hypothetical all of the bosses can be reasonably communicated with (if possible) and are not actively trying to kill you (Unless killing you makes it sexier).

Repeat bosses not included, duo bosses counted seperate. Bosses that already appeared in the Base game are not counted.

It should also be assumed that all of these bosses have access to their magic/items/resources to benefit them in bed.

Explanation of Grading system:

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

These characters are not sentient enough to communicate consent, or are physically incapable of sex.

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Character sucks so badly that they do not deserve to experience pleasure in any shape or form.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

These character are fully capable of sex but would never participate in sex due to lack of interest or overabundance of moral convictions.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

I mean, you COULD have sex with these characters but why would you?

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

These characters are average in bed, nothing crazy or noticeable. Some might end up in this category because they ARE good at sex, but the entire process would be inconvenient or uncomfortable to initiate.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

These characters are good at sex, give or take a few points depending on their mood or situation.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

These characters excel in giving pleasure and would be well worth the time and effort involved.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

These characters would be so good at sex that all other factors are irrelevant. They are serving and we are here for it.

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

These are characters that should fall lower in the rankings, but their sexual prowess supersedes their inherent awfulness to a noteworthy degree.

Full list below the read more. Obviously it's not going to be sfw.

Ineligible: (Cannot give consent)

Ralva the Great Red Bear:

Animal

Rugalea the Great Red Bear:

Animal

Ghostflame Dragon:

Undead, probably not capable of sex.

Golden Hippopotamus:

Animal

Swordhand of Night Anna:

She is a hot goth knight, but is a mind controlled puppet.

Unfuckable: (Can give consent, but does not DESERVE sex)

Promised Consort Radahn + Radahn Consort of Miquella:

Radahn is just a mind-controlled corpse, and Miquella is a little bitch, so they are both ineligible. Honestly who tries to become a god but also ditches their inner goth girl? St. Trina deserved better.

Scadutree Avatar:

Theoretically capable of sex, but is made of pure anger and thorns.

Fire Knight Salza:

War criminal, even by Elden Ring terms so you KNOW it's bad.

Jori, Elder Inquisitor:

Creepy torturer and hypocrite, thinks sex is a sin and I plan for him to die sinless.

Uninterested: (Can give consent, does not WANT sex)

Curseblade Labirith:

Too devoted to being a monk to care.

Midra Lord of Frenzied Flame:

He's going through a LOT right now. He just got dumped AND he is being tortured for eternity while also containing a god of madness in his body, just leave the poor man alone.

Blackgaol Knight:

In another life he'd fuck like semi truck, but as of right now he's taken a vow to be a wet blanket alone in a mausoleum.

Not worth it: (Can give consent, is terrible in bed)

Chief Bloodfiend:

Too goopy and covered in diseased blood, but is still up for it if you are.

Putrescent Knight:

On one hand it's melting skeleton made up of thousands of merged souls... but on the other hand if you managed to get the consent and each and every soul I bet you could PROBABLY do something.

Lamenter:

Throw him one pity fuck and then run, he's clingy and a whiner.

Death Knight:

Is mostly just a skeleton, and whatever flesh is still there is probably rotting... but he does have some rizz and cool wings... goth guys can still get it.

Acceptable: (Can give consent, would be fine in bed)

Black Knight Garrew:

A highly trained knight, probably has good stamina but is also a fanatic to a creepy cult.

Black Knight Edredd:

Is also a highly trained knight, probably has good stamina but is also a fanatic to a creepy cult... but he does know crucible incantations... he might have some weird animal stuff you can get him to use in bed.

Rakshasa:

She's covered in blood and is overflowing with bloodlust... but lust and bloodlust are in the same neighborhood if you know what to do.

Divine Beast Dancing Lion:

If those two guys in there aren't rotting corpses... Fucking two guys inside a scary lion costume is an above average Tuesday night.

Good Time: (Can give consent, would be great in bed)

Logur, the Beast Claw:

A nude man covered in blood is running at you on all fours... you are either about to die or have a WILD night.

Ancient Dragon Senessax:

A very average dragon, but all dragons have a baseline fuckability so she's up here.

Jagged Peak Drake:

Drakes are slightly less fuckable than dragons, but if you don't think I'd willing be double teamed by two dragons while Igon watches, you clearly don't know me.

Ancient Dragon-Man:

All the perks of dragon sex but in a much more portable package.

Demi-Human Swordmaster Onze:

Normally Demi-humans are more cute than sexy, but this guy dedicated his life to the blade, you should be helping him make up for lost time.

Count Ymir, Mother of Fingers:

He's a delusional asshole... but he smacks of gender™ in a very submissive and breedable manner. A man who wants to be a mother and has giant fleshy fingers growing out of his body? It will be uncomfortable and deeply personal... but you GOTTA try it at least once, the LGBTQ community is depending on you.

Knock your socks off: (Can give consent, would be amazing in bed)

Red Bear:

All the raw sex appeal of Logur but with 25% more daddy energy.

Moonrithyll, Carian Knight:

Listen we have all been sleeping on Moonrithyll when we should be sleeping WITH her. She is the chamberlain to Rellana (as in head bedroom attendant) which means she is an actual #girlboss and there must be insane wizard lesbian sex behind closed doors. Not only that but she is beloved by the trolls and can fight on equal terms with the carian troll knights, who are no doubt getting sucked and fucked by her nightly. She's just a normal human but she is blowing out the backs of demigods and giants alike. She is struggling to keep her head above water and that water is pussy.

Commander Gaius:

Ok so here me out: He is an asshole, and violent, and a fanatic who serves the very order that discriminates against him... but all you have to do is mention that Radahn is better in bed than him. With this one simple trick he will have you bent over the back of his boar making sure he won't be the only one who can't use their legs after. He is pure rage and he will not stop until he has make you cum more times than Radahn ever has. Trust me, this happened to me, video games are real.

Dancer of Ranah:

Infinite stamina, enough said.

Sex God: (Can give consent, would be the best in bed)

Rellana Twin Moon Knight:

I want you to imagine Rennala, a normal woman who was able to satisfy Radagon/Marika, the sluttiest possible duo in the entire history of the lands between. Now imagine Rennala at full power, no depression, no hanging out in her basement mourning her failed marriage... now imagine Rennala 18% more goth and holding two magic swords. She will fuck you into space and then fuck you back to planet earth. Now imagine being bisexual.

Messmer the Impaler + Base Serpent Messmer:

I have slowly grown to love this sad bishounen anime boy more and more as I learn about his pathetic little life. He seems all mean and firey, but he is a bottom. (and his snakes are not) I wanna make him squeal and then get him therapy and then for good measure make him squel again.

Romina, Saint of the Bud:

A sleeper hit, but she is a mean insect lady with a giant prehensile centipede tail. She is like a xenomorph queen but a pink pastel goth rather than a vampire goth. She will wrap you up in that giant tail of hers and get straight to the egg laying. If you haven't considered it before, then you will now.

Evil Sex God: (Can give consent, is a terrible person but you’d make an exception.)

Metyr, Mother of Fingers:

Look... you WILL die after doing this, but she has a giant stomach full of squirming wet fingers and she is basically a big pile of dicks. Get naked, jump into her gaping stomach and die happy. That's an order from your commanding officer, now do your duty and serve your country.

Bayle the Dread:

I hate this dragon, he is responsible for the steady decline in dragon sex appeal, he hurt my Igon, and I can't explain why but I feel like he is sexist somehow. BUT... a dragon is a dragon. If Igon asks me to double team this guy I legally can't say no.

BONUS: Ranking the new NPC's from worst to best in terms of fuckability:

#13: Fire Knight Queenlign:

Somehow, his haircut is more of a turn-off than the war crimes he committed in the name of a god who doesn't even know he exists, which is not a good sign.

#12: Hornsent Grandam:

Normally I would give GILFs a pass to live their life and fuck as little or as much as they want. But she is the type to slut shame other women and as a feminist I cannot stand idly by.

#11: Hornsent

In another life he'd be a decent lay. He had a wife and a child so he has had sex at least once. In a pinch I can forgive the blind self destructive quest for vengeance, but I draw the line as soiled loincloths. You're an adult Hornsent, so act like it.

#10: Moore

My sweet little pot boy... If it came to sex I'd like to imagine that he is attentive and gentle, with his armor clattering around the whole time because he is too scared to take it off entirely. But he is too sweet and you honestly don't deserve him. He needs to be romanced, swept off his feet by a loyal and supportive partner and let's face it, you aren't at a place in your life where you can be all that he needs.

#9: Thoiller

The pillow princess to end all pillow princesses. He is a simp, he's submissive, he's breedable, he's a sopping wet pathetic little meow meow. Tumblr, THIS is the man you keep saying you want, now get in there and impregnate this man as the prophecies foretold.

#8: St. Trina

She's a plant at this point and probably isn't up for sex. (And a disembodied essence of love from a corrupted demigod) But I KNOW for a fact you kept imbibing her nectar more than you needed to. She just likes to watch as you and Thoiller get high and flop around in the putrescences. Lore says St. Trina was a fully grown woman at some point, and not just a weird little plant person, so in her prime she probably had a weird sleepy plant orgy with her followers.

#7: Redmane Freyja:

On paper she is the tragic butch sword lesbian we need but don't deserve. A prisoner who earned her freedom and rank through brutal gladiatorial combat, a loyal knight to a fallen demigod, and a big buff lady who can step on you. But in practice she still sides with Leda after breaking free of the mind control, and lets Miquella control her lords body like a toy. Come on Freyja, where is your fire? Your rage? Suplex Leda and fuck your way across the lands between as did your forefathers.

#6: Swordhand of Night Jolan:

She's a mean goth girl with a tragic past and a desperate need to be loved. I could fix her.

#5: Sir Ansbach

He easily earned his place in the top 5. He's running from a tragic past, he is trying to be a better person, he has all the sex appeal of Varre' but actually bathes, and he is a GILF. In practice he probably isn't the BEST in bed, but he is rather romancable. He can still get it, since he was a highly trained warrior in the past, but I see myself cuddling him as he somberly adjusts his glasses and stares out the window. Don't get me wrong there is still a LOT of sweaty blood sex but he knows what he is doing and understands what soap is.

#4: Igon

He's a screamer. Broken legs, dirty armor, doesn't matter. The warriors code demands that we look into each other's eyes as we both cum. That is the only honorable way.

#3: Needle Knight Leda

She sucks. She willingly follows a loser wannabe god, and it's not even the mind control, she is just like that™ already. She is so bad at socializing with rational people who are already on her side that she jumps to murder without hesitation. She even killed all the first Needle Knights just cuz of her own paranoia. She should be at the bottom of this list... but a yandere is a yandere. It would be creepy, uncomfortable and she'd be very demanding and probably bite you in a very non-sexy way. But it would still be some of the best sex you'll ever have. You'd regret it just as much as you'd enjoy it, and you'd regret it for the rest of your life.

#2: Dragon Communion Priestess Florissax:

Lovelorn dragon lady who wants me to eat other dragons in a very sensual manner. I am not immune and neither are you.

#1: Dryleaf Dane

After that brush, he is distant. His training is cold and impersonal, he throws himself into his prayers, dedicating every waking moment to meditation. He sought to turn his flesh to iron, so why is the flesh so weak around you?

Hear me out. He's religious, he is dedicated to his cause, he tries to kill you, and he doesn't even say a word to you.

BUT.

Imagine what happens when you finally get him to break.

He is your master, teaching you in the dryleaf arts, the two of you sparring atop a waterfall and bruising your knuckles more and more with each strike. The two of you meditate together, seeking inner peace to further your warriors spirit. He is stoic, his heart closed off to you and his mind focused on his holy mission.

But he is temped, you can see it in his eyes, in the way he watches over you when you are hurt, the soft way his fist unclench after a battle, and the thick layer of sweat you share after sparring. Together you are hardening your bodies to become living weapons, but bodies are not only used for violence, and the two of you cannot ignore the tension that grows with each day, your bodies intertwining during a particularly heated duel, grappling turning slowly to wanton exploration. He comes to his senses right before it crosses the line and you see the fear in his eyes as he pulls away from you. But you wouldn't have stopped him and he knows it from the pleased expression on your face as you lie on your back, defeated.

When it finally happens, you are sparring, leaving nothing behind. You shed your armor to let the movements flow without hindrance and so does he, conflict apparent upon his face. You trade blow after blow, your bodies raw and sore but still you don't let up. The sun is setting and neither of you will relent, sweat coating every inch and the roar of the waterfall drowning out every thought that isn't dedicated to this battle.

He is getting sloppy, his eyes transfixed not on your fists but your face. A poorly placed sweep to your legs leaves him wide open and you go for the maneuver neither of you have attempted since the close encounter that frightened him so.

He struggles, pushing your arms and legs away fruitlessly as his exhaustion drains away his years of practice. Soon you are pinning him to the wet ground on the riverbed, his hair wild and his hat flung far out of arms reach. He looks like a cornered animal in your grasp, eyes bulging and his breathing haggard. You can only look down upon your former master with a gleeful hunger, his body already more familiar to you than your own.

In a moment of understanding you see the hesitation drain from eyes. He knows what he wants, and he is done denying it. You grab his face roughly and kiss him more violently than any punch you have thrown. He returns in kind and all the exhaustion seems to leave his body as he sits up and wraps both arms around you firmly, desperate to make up for lost time, his holy mission only to worship your body and the unbreakable bond you have forged in sweat and blood.

And then you bone.

We have all imagined that exact scenario, haven't we? I have yet to meet a Fromsoft fan who hasn't described that fantasy to me word for word without hesitation. I am just saying what we were all thinking.

(Pictured: a man I would fuck until he renounces his god.)

[the-kr8tor]

Bite Marks

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Word count: 18.6k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW food mentions, TW death mention, body horror, CW violence and injury, TW blood and gore, alcohol mention. Slowburn, Part 3 of ink and bedrock, noxian! Reader. Spoilers for s2.

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Part 2 <<< Part 3 >>> Part 4

Ekko has been all over Zaun and Piltover, his board leaving trails of green smoke as he looks for you and the familiar shade of red you always wear. As the hand on his pocket watch ticks, his concern grows larger.

His first stop at the Vyx was hours ago, earning a shocked look from the business’ madam. He even tasked a few of his firelights to look for you after he combed the entirety of the lanes. While the search goes on, his worries eat at further. The wind turns harsh, cold and nipping at his skin while he hovers around at quick speed. Then, a last minute decision comes to mind, he turns his board around, twisting expertly around buildings to get to the docks where Sevika's place is near. Maybe she saw you, or better yet, you're there for another extra interview.

As he flies overhead, his eyes are cast down on the ground in hopes that he'll see you walking by. His heart almost sinks down to his stomach when he sees your noxian red jacket floating in the waters of Zaun. He drops down immediately at breakneck speed.

The water feels cool under you, waves crashing against your clothed legs, skin raising into pinpricks of goosebumps. Ekko finds you half submerged in the waters of Zaun, baptized by its tides, mixing in with your blood.

His boots crunch under the pebbled sand, footsteps measured and quiet as if he's trying not to startle a doe trapped in the jaws of sharp metal. Eyes roaming over your sitting form, legs folded on itself, arms embracing your body close— your blank eyes stare at the fading sunset in the horizon. Its hues paint you in its orange and pink glow, illuminating your swollen cheek, shining a light on your injuries.

The docks are quiet this time of day, no workers running around and trying to finish their quota for the day. No ships passing by, or machinery beeping and whirring above the sound of the waves.

Seagulls squawk above, wings flapping as they fly off into the sunset. The air feels fresher near the water, the cool breeze feeling like needles upon your heated skin. Your breath is shallow as you intake air, fists shaking as it remains tightly closed.

Ekko remains standing next to you, his own mind reeling from the sight of you, you whom he thought was invulnerable, tough like raw metal; and incapable of being the small form balled next to his feet. You're a force to be reckoned with, a noxian who's not afraid to bite. And yet, you sit on the banks shared by Zaun and Piltover, looking like a lost child.

Ekko knows this feeling well, having lived through it a dozen times before. He remembers the day he lost everyone he ever knew in a single night— the blank stare he had, the tear stained cheeks, and the hidden anger swirling in his eyes. All he ever wanted that day was for someone to stay with him, not to speak of apologies or comfort. Just for someone he knew to be there for him. So he sits down wordlessly next to you, following your heavy gaze to where the sun fades down into the water. The sky slowly turns a dark blue, as if waving goodbye to you.

A minute passes, then five, then ten, and he's still sitting there with you, his own lower half drenched in the water together with your own, his presence warming you. Your plan was for him to get used to you so that he'll slowly warm up to you— But you hadn't realized that he has done the same to you. With him just being there alone could help calm the buzzing in your ears, wave away the rose scented wind wafting across your bloodied nose to be replaced with the smell of seared metal and mint.

You open your split lips, wheezing a sharp exhale before speaking. Your lungs aren't any better than the state of your face. Chin placed atop your knees, the previous sunlight is now replaced with the street lights, its harsh white light not doing you any favors.

“S–Sorry, you must've been waiting for me back at the hideout.”

“I thought you were going to see Sevika?” Ekko still sits right next to you, eyes roaming all over your swollen and broken face. He notices your rolled up sleeves, free of your usual crimson jacket that now reveals battle scars dotted along your arms. Pinpricks of raised skin, marks left by a blade, long elongated scars that still bear the pain it once had.

“That was last week, Ekko. We finished last week.” You gesture with your head towards the councilor's home further away by the docks. Its towering roofs are unmistakable. Your shoes are completely drenched under the lapping tides, the water ebbing upwards and wetting more of your clothes. “No one's home anyway, I think she's stuck in a meeting at Piltover. My other interview went well at least, despite, you know.” Your hand ghosts all over your swollen face.

“Why didn't you fight back?” His voice is soft, not laced with a condescending tone or a reprimand.

For once, you think he's concerned about you.

“How'd you know I didn't?” You glance at him as best as you can with your black eye, seeing his hand reach towards you. His trepidation wins over him before retracting his hand back to his side.

“Your knuckles, they're pristine, spark.”

You chuckle at the use of the nickname, eyes flitting across your fists before unfurling them despite the throbbing pain on one of your wrists— all the while hiding the fact that your assailants might've broken your dominant hand.

“Guess they are.” They're as unclean as the dirt under your nails. “They ambushed me is all.” A moment passes between you as you let the cool water kiss your skin, drenching you and Ekko further and further with the rise of the tides. “I–I didn't want to fight, how would that look if they found me with their bodies? It could cause another crisis. Have another war on our hands.”

“They wouldn't be dead. You wouldn't have killed them.” He cranes his neck towards you, brows knitted together, eyes glimmering under the light.

“You don't know that, Ekko.” Your eyebrows furrow, fists opening and closing to shut your anger down. “I could've— I could, I know I can.”

“So you didn't bother to fight back?” He inhales, reeling in his anger that was untoward. Remembering that you're not the enemy. “Did you see their faces?” He gently takes your shoulder, eyes shining in the light as he stares at your split lips, swollen eye and bleeding brow. “Did they—” he inhales shakily. “Did they do anything else to you?”

You shake your head, hand gingerly wrapping around his wrist. He thinks you're about to pull him off of you, but you don't. Instead you run your thumb across the inside of his wrist. “They didn't. They took my bag and my pen before running off. I guess they were still afraid of me so they whacked me on the head and kicked me a few times before bolting off.”

Ekko nods, guilt written on his face. You know it well. “Or they were afraid of me.” He lets go, hand falling back on his lap.

You laugh despite the ache on your face, grin subsiding when you see his serious face. “Oh, you were serious? Yeah, sure, probably, bossman.”

He huffs, head shaking with a subtle smile. Another silent moment passes, it's a comfortable silence that has your mind finally calming down. His palms gather pebbles next to his legs, balling them together and picking up bits of colourful sea glass.

“That's pretty.” You say as he holds a blue sea glass in the palm of his hand. “Did you used to gather them up when you were a kid?”

Ekko reminisces, lips curling into a small bittersweet smile. “Off the record, spark?”

Chuckling, you scooch closer to look at the sand, pebbles and sea glass all bunched together in his hand. “Off the record, firefly.” Smiling, your index rummages through the pile, finding a bright emerald glass that reminds you of the shape of your old home. It's smooth around the edges, sheer but opaque enough to let the colour show.

“A few times.” He pockets the blue glass before picking up the green one and raising it above the two of you to see the light reflect on its smooth surface. “Used to swim here too, before the water got too murky and smelled of shit.”

“Now it doesn't smell like shit, thanks to you and Sevika.”

Placing the glass back down, he flips it in between his fingers. “I did it for my people, so the kids could experience what I had.” With a glance at you, he pockets the green sea glass before handing the pile on your waiting palm. “Why do you do this?” Blurting out, he expects you to glare at him, instead, you continue to rummage through the pile, wordlessly letting him continue. “You're noxian, you're doing something against your own people.”

You hum, tired eyes finding a shard of red sea glass among the pile of rocks. “I could be from Demacia or from Ionia, being noxian doesn't change anything. I hate their warmongering, a lot of us share the same sentiment, but not all of us. Not enough.” Heart stuck in your throat, you take the crimson glass, dropping the rest of the pile next to your feet, watching it plop down in the water. “That's why I'm doing this, the more people who know the effects of what they've done to the other nations, the more people would be against it. Something has to change.”

“What if it doesn't work? That you running around Piltover and Zaun would be for nothing?” He ducks to meet with your downcast eyes. “That you getting hurt would be for nothing.”

“Well, someone has to do it.” You smile sadly, “after this gets published for the whole world to read, I–I may not be able to go home.” The shock is evident in Ekko's brown eyes as he settles in on the sadness of your tone. “The moment I step foot in Noxus I— they could kill me for what I've written.”

Ekko inhales sharply, brown eyes scanning your features for a lie. He finds none. “They can't do that just because of it.” A half lie. He truly doesn't know that they would, only that they could be capable of it.

“They have. And they will. There are forces in Noxus that the world will never see, or even hear of.” Your eyes fill with unshed tears, a sob threatening to escape from your throat. “My professor was supposed to be here with me, did you know that?” Looking at Ekko, you see yourself in his eyes, finding the same hurt you have in those pools of light. “She lived a hundred lives, wrote more than anyone in the world has, dedicated her life to the truth. And she— she should be here, not me.” You throw the red glass angrily into the depths.

You stare at the ripples it has left on the water until it reaches you. “Mel found me in the bottom of a bottle, blacked out drunk just after I found out.” You grimace at your previous pitiful self. Ekko listens intently with an open heart. “She trusted me enough to continue my professor's work. I promised them both, Ekko.” Moving your head towards him, the tears flow freely from your eyes, mixing in together with your determination. “So please, we need to trust each other for this to work. Right now as we're talking, people in Ionia are dying from the hands of my own people, and people barely blink an eye at it. The entire time I've been here I've only seen the war mentioned in the papers twice. Twice!”

Heaving, you feel his arm hover above your back unsurely. You blink the tears away, wiping it with the crook of your elbow. “I may not be able to stop what's happening there, but I can warn people about it. Tell them their strategies, their ways of conquering so people would know how to defend themselves when they come. Noxus is on a conquest, and the entire continent is on its path.”

You continue as his eyes morph into worry. “Piltover was a lesson to them. Something to learn from so they could be better the next time. Bolder, and more terrifying than the last.”

“They're planning something, aren't they?” Ekko's eyes narrow angrily, mind going back to the fight.

“Mel thinks they are. They hate Piltover and even Zaun just because you helped. They could be, knowing what they're doing in Ionia right now. There's also that shit back home,” you spit out, cursing their very being. “Let's hope that they're too busy fighting themselves to set their sights back here.” You switch to a more light hearted tone after wiping down the tears gathered in your eyes. He seethes next to you, feeling his warmth ebb closer to your own form. So you try to calm the storm within him. Nudging him, you gently smile. “They hate you over there.”

“Do you?” He raises a questioning brow, air feeling much lighter than before as he stares at your unwavering smile. But the dark feeling still looms over his head, simmering into his hundreds of worries.

“No, I don't. I get why you've closed yourself to others, built a wall around you. I know it too well.” You sigh, hands rubbing along your arms for warmth. “And I don't hate you, Ekko. I rarely like people and I guess you're one of them now.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” He uses your own words against you. His small smile fills your chest with comfort.

“Finally got the boy savior to smile.” Beaming at him, the lamp light illuminates your features.

He inhales, twisting around to face you fully, leg propped up with his elbow resting atop his knee. “If you want me to trust you, you need to tell me the truth.” His instincts still defy him from trusting you fully. “Who are you really? Before you took up a pen. And no more lies.”

“I…” you swallow down your trepidation, palms balling into fists before releasing the pressure. The scars on your skin feels like it's on fire. “...Was part of a guild back home, not the kind that weaves baskets or sells shit. The kind you didn't want to mess with. If you got the gold then we get the job done. Whether it's messy or clean, we do it. Then I was briefly in the noxian legion after my father pulled rank and dragged me into their shit show. I thought I would be doing good back then, until the real fighting started. Barely a fight when your enemies couldn't defend themselves.” You shake your head, regret spilling from your words.

Ekko listens with a stiff lip. “Then after a couple of years I went home and I found him—” you hesitate for a moment, choking in your own words. “My younger brother— passed and I was lost. So I went back to the guild, stained my hands for gold so that I could be worthy of a noxian death just like they have.” Shutting your eyes, you let a tear escape before exhaling and opening your eyes to see the open waters of Piltover. “Until I came across my professor. Or rather, I saw her on the end of my gun.” You chuckle at the memory, chest heavy with sorrow. “Can you believe that she managed to talk me out of killing her?”

“She must've been something.”

“She was.” You smile, nudging Ekko gently with your shoulder. “I had to lie to the council, Ekko. I told them I'm just a historian so they'd let me do what I need to do. If I told them I used to… they wouldn't have let me. My promise would've been broken before I could start.”

“You lied to the council?” He's impressed based on the tone of his voice. “What else have you lied about?” He challenges you with his sharp gaze.

“I actually did study under my professor. Straightened my life out, got my degree, masters. And got more degrees. I've got a talent for it, you see.” You proudly say. “I cut ties with the legion and the guild way before that so you don't have to worry about more noxians popping in the undercity looking for me.”

His brows knit together, trepidation on the tip of his tongue. “You must've been too young to do all that shit.”

You chuckle without humour. “They start you young back there.” Your tone wavers as you stare back into the dark depths, aching legs now stretched in front of you, watching the water lapping across your legs.

“Anything else?”

Humming, you feel the hard rocks underneath your palms, anchoring you back into the present. “I have no one else back home. Parents are long gone just a few years after my brother.” You shrug, shivering in the calming cold. “Everything else I've told the council and you were truthful.”

“And Mel? Did she know about you?”

“Yes. I thought she was going to recruit me like her mother did years before, and I almost fought her because of it.” You remember the day she trespassed in your own home only to find you almost passed out from drinking the day away. Good thing you blacked out before threatening the younger Medarda with your sword.

“I would pay good money to see that.”

“Is that a joke? Coming from the boy savior himself?” You smile, chuckling softly as you look at him.

“I—” his own smile fades, eyes darting behind you. “Right in the fucking open.”

Following his gaze, you see a familiar group a few ways away on the shore. They look weary and worried as they wait in front of what looks like a broken down building. The two of you watch as a large man opens the door and lets them in with a simple wave. It's a shimmer deal.

“Oh, now I remember what I'm doing here. Must be the concussion making me forget.” Standing up, you stretch your throbbing neck and dominant hand that's definitely broken from how you were shielding yourself from their onslaught of beatings.

“What? I know you want to help but you're injured.” Ekko clicks his tongue at you, arms crossed over his chest.

“They're the ones who took my pen, Ekko.” He gives you a pursed look. “Just like you, I don't do anything half assed. I heard them whisper about where they're trading it before they left me.”

“And here I thought you were here to brood.”

“Oh I was.” Shrugging, you unclasp your belt and pull it from the belt loops to wrap it around your fist in makeshift brass knuckles. The golden buckle shines under the moonlight, the carved rune on it taking Ekko's attention briefly. “I'm going to take back what's mine, Ekko, whether you let me or not. I'll hold back my punches, don't worry.”

“You can barely see straight and you're still bleeding. At least let me call for backup—”

“They'd be long gone by then.” You step in front of him, standing toe to toe with him in ankle deep water. “I've been hurt worse before.” Your walls crumble further down as you stare into his deep chestnut eyes. “The pen was my brother's. Please let me take it back.”

With apprehension, Ekko nods once. Before you could race towards the dilapidated building, he takes your hand gently to pull you away. “We need a plan.”

You smile, “this is why I liked you from the get go.”

—

Your banging fists against the metal door resonates throughout the whole building, shaking it at its core.

“Help!” Kicking and screaming, your throat pinches in your neck. What must've been a minute of yelling, the rusty door swings open, revealing the same man from before. His metal jaw tightens at the sight of your beaten up face. “Sir, please help me! I've been robbed and I just need—” just as planned, the same crew who ambushed you stands inside the room with a shimmer dealer. “Them!” Pushing past the metal jawed man, you manage to take him by surprise and even make it halfway inside the building before he captures you in his arms. “Where's my shit?!”

“It’s the noxian!” The one who held a gun to your temple says. Everyone seems to freeze up in place. Your pen and satchel is in his hands, ready to be traded, while the other is in the middle of exchanging it for a whole bundle of purple vials.

“You brought a fucking noxian here?!” A sharply dressed woman with face tattoos exclaims, worried eyes roaming over your form.

Now that the haze of pain from before has ebbed away by the rush of adrenaline, you now realize that the same crew who took your belongings and beat you were the same ones who tried to rob you on your first day in Zaun. Ekko's not going to like this.

With a swift back kick to the man's groin, you're free from his grasp as he kneels down on the dirty ground, groaning and tearing up. Running at quick speed, you raise your arm above your head as if you're shielding yourself from the sun. Your eyes hone in on them like a predator hunting its prey. Body moving on instinct, as if you never left the fighting behind. You barely make any noise from your rushed footfalls.

The sheer terror on each of their faces was worth almost getting captured. Luck seems to be on your side for now.

“Shit!” The group braces themselves, a few raise their weapons, guns and knives aimed at your form.

Just as you're near them, the glass roof above the building shatters. Glass shards fall like rain upon their shocked faces. With a streak of green light, Ekko drops down, hoverboard whirring as he strikes the dusty ground with his green clock arm weapon, twisting and turning around them on his board, collecting them in the middle and creating a whirlpool of dust and smoke to hide you from their eyes.

While they're too distracted by Ekko's tornado-like movements and the dust in their eyes, you tighten your hand around your belt that's still wrapped around your fist. The golden buckle glows, yellow light appearing around you like a halo as it creates a shield.

At a mad dash before your opening closes, you make it inside the curtain of smoke, quickly taking your things from the befuddled man in quick succession.

Jumping away and skidding across the ground, you meet up with Ekko just in time for him to stop right where you landed. He grabs you by the waist, guiding you up on his hoverboard.

“Got it?”

Looking down at your hands, you see your pen in your palm and satchel around your elbow. “Got them!” You hold on tight to his waist.

He pats your hand before kicking and flying up. As you fly higher and higher, you see the assailants cough and pick shards from their face and bodies. Serves them right.

“Let's go, Ekko. We'll get them next time—!” Before the hoverboard dashes away into safety, a loud thunk hits the metal fans inside, sparks flying, causing the board to malfunction and fall. “Shit!”

You feel his arms wrap around you as you both fall on the hard ground, puffs of green smoke enveloping around you.

Both of you clatter and split up on the dusty floors. A cloud of smoke trailing behind you as you skid on the rough ground harshly. You groan at the pain blooming on your head, hand feeling numb from how you landed wrong on it. If your hand wasn't broken before, it's definitely broken now.

Eyes wandering to your side, you see Ekko lying a few feet away from you, his eyes are bloodshot, capillaries broken from the fall. His nails dig into the dirt, trying to stand back up.

The hoverboard sparks from a couple steps ahead with a sharp dagger embedded in one of its metal fans. Your head throbs as fresh blood drips down your face, mixing in with the dried ones. Ekko yelps in pain, and you look at him immediately. His face is shoved on the dirt by a boot, and you immediately see red.

The next thing you know, you're up on your feet again, lunging and shocking the tattooed woman. She flinches and hurriedly throws daggers your way. dodging blades, you block it with your glowing rune that's still wrapped around your fist. But it may not be enough when a few nicks your arm and legs.

“Come on, noxian! Show me what you got!” The same one who had her foot on Ekko's head taunts. Her purple eyes from using shimmer glows, mixing in with the golden light the rune emits. Her feet dance with your own, auburn hair flowing as she dodges your frantic and angry attacks as you take her attention away from Ekko.

Meanwhile, Ekko shakily stands up, temple bleeding as his vision warbles for a second before clearing up. The four men look at him with frightened eyes, weapons clutched in their shaking hands. It seems that his reputation has gotten to them.

The firefly leader gets up, crimson flowing down on his lips, staining the ground in red. “Didn't I tell you to go home?” He kicks his hoverboard up, standing it straight into his waiting hands. His weapon is too far away from him to get a hold of, so he settles with the next best thing.

“Noxian gold pays better than being a bartender.” The one with the gun says, “are you running away, firelight?” He taunts, eyes narrowed at the hoverboard in Ekko's hand.

Ekko glances at you briefly, seeing that you're holding on your own despite your injuries, you've gotten hold of your sword again as blades crash against each other. Fixing his stance, he holds the board with two hands like a large bat ready to strike. His mind works on instinct, calculating all the ways they could attack him. And in turn, he plans his retaliation in his head. His breathing evens out, mind settling on a plan, and with a measured step, he bolts off towards them.

His head moves a few inches to the side, dodging a whizzing bullet, feeling the air run by him. Just like he thought it would. Then with a side step, he smacks the nearest man right on his head with his hoverboard, effectively dodging his rusty knife aimed at Ekko's side. Blood gushes out of the assailant's nose, eyes rolling back inside his head as Ekko knocks him out. Fountains of crimson splashing out whilst Ekko dodges again to avoid another bullet aimed at his leg.

Twisting around, his furious eyes hone in on the second man with a butcher's knife shaking in his lithe hand. The man slashes wildly at him, Ekko uses his board as a shield, but one passes through, the blade nicking his forearm. The man uses this opportunity to hack and slash at him frantically, and Ekko staggers backwards.

Then a sudden golden ring of light protects him, he glances at you, seeing that you're protecting him even though you're occupied with your own battle. With the protection, you give him time to immediately push the board towards his assailant and make the man stumble backwards and slam into the one with the gun. It accidentally goes off, shooting his own friend.

“Shit–!”

Ekko pushes and rams them both until they hit a stone pillar, smashing their bodies together on the solid wall. Their heads slam in tandem, a sickening crack bouncing off the walls just like how their heads bounced on the wall. They fall limp, knocked out and bleeding as they slide down the pillar together.

“Get fucked!” The unfamiliar voice says victoriously, spitting out blood as she staggers backwards.

Ekko hears you yelp in pain. Head turning towards you quickly. His eyes widen at your crouched form, your hands holding onto the broken rapier. He yells your name, feet already moving to shield you from the oncoming blow you're about to face. But he gets yanked backwards, hands flying towards his neck, he feels rough leather wrapped around him. Falling down harshly, his body skids across the ground as he's pulled and dragged towards the doorman whom you encumbered beforehand. Ekko didn't see him coming and standing back up from how hard you kicked the man in between the legs.

His choked breaths echo around the building, struggling against his binds whilst the man tightens his hold on him. A hulking arm wraps around his neck. The firelights leader struggles, legs kicking about and nails scratching at the man's arm. Ekko opens his mouth, biting down at flesh, drawing blood. But it barely fazes the assailant.

“I thought you would've fought better, boy savior.” The doorman chuckles against his ear. “Go watch your girl get her shit kicked in. Looks like you didn't learn your lesson after Jinx, huh?” He lifts Ekko up from the ground, making him watch as you receive blow after blow on your face and body.

You take it all in, shield building up but getting shattered almost immediately. The sound of Ekko's choking grabs your attention, mind remembering the same position your brother was in all those years ago. The thorns wrapping around his neck, roses blooming around him before he disappears into the rose scented void.

Ekko's vision fades away slowly, unconsciousness slithering and threatening to hold him down.

You see red, fire engulfing your body.

With a thudding heart, adrenaline fueling your broken body, you launch yourself towards your assailant, yelling a battle cry.

Pushing her down with a firm shoulder, making her fall backwards. You don't waste time in building the rune up with a silent whisper of words you learned years ago during your years in the legion. Clawing your way up to face her, you raise your fist as the golden light encases your whole hand. Quickly, yellow light engulfs the whole room, warmth seeping from your body and flooding everyone’s senses. Her eyes widen in horror as the light turns solid, like molten gold about to drip down on her face and scald her skin. The last thing she saw was the gilded punch meeting her nose, and the sickening crack of her cartilage filling your ears.

Warm blood stains your clothes, mixing well with the crimson tint of your noxian clothing. Spitting out ichor, you quickly grab a fallen dagger, sending it flying across the room and towards the hulking man holding onto Ekko.

He tries to use Ekko as a shield, but with a squeeze around the rune, you shield him with the warm light. The blade grazes the golden hue, harmlessly bouncing off of Ekko but hits the man directly on his shoulder.

The large man falls back, groaning in pain and letting Ekko go.

“F–Fucker.” You shakily heave out, stumbling towards Ekko as he gasps breathlessly whilst crouched on the ground. “Ekko.” He continues to cough out, hand placed on his bruised neck. “Ekko, move!” You now sprint, eyes wide as the doorman looms over him with the whip held menacingly.

With a guttural scream, you shield Ekko with your own body, grabbing the whip with your own arm as it wraps tightly around you. “Enough!” With a pulse of energy, you send it crawling up until it hits the handle and sending the man flying backwards into the wall with a hard thump. Your hands and clothes are smoking, letting out small puffs of auburn smoke. You give a hard yank at the leather, breaking the whip from its handle and tossing the weapon away, your eyes stares furiously at the man.

But he still doesn't give up or cower away, metal jaw grating as he clenches it tightly. You ram him further into the wall with your shoulder, barely making him stumble. So you quickly grab hold of the dagger embedded on his shoulder blade, wasting no time in twisting it until he's on his knees, yelling in pain.

“I said enough!” You scream, voice grating, eyes aflame. The rough handle of the knife fits perfectly in your grasp. “Stay down or I'll make you stay down.” The man nods, but you see a lie within his eyes. Yanking the blade out, you stab him again on the same spot, sending out ribbons of warm iron to splash across your face. He falls limp against the wall, unconscious from the pain and shock.

Ekko whispers your name, voice hoarse.

As you turn around to face him, you see the same woman you fought start to clamber up, crawling towards her fallen dagger.

You step around Ekko, eyeing her down, waiting for her to throw it towards you. Just as you predicted, she aims and throws it.

You raise your arm and shield in just the right time, slowing the blade's momentum until it's fully stopped in between the shield and mere inches away from your face. Grabbing the handle, you twist around, sending the dagger hurling towards her at great speeds. It hits her dead on the stomach. Her screams ring in your ears. You ignore it.

As you turn back around, you give Ekko a helping hand. He looks at your open palm that's stained with iron, then over to your face that's marred with running blood. Your heart clenches at the thought of him being afraid of you.

Instead of flinching and running away, he takes your hand in his. Staining his own hand with the same crimson. He holds onto your arm, and you hold him up with your hand grasping on his back.

“Are you okay?” You ask, tone whispered. Your vision warbles, legs shaking underneath your weight.

“I— that was you holding back?” He jokes, palm placed on the small of your back.

Chuckling, your smile fades as your eyes roll on the back of your head. Darkness encapsulates you, but warmth holds you in place.

“Spark!” Ekko catches you in his arms, hand placed right on your pulse. You feel like you're running a fever. He sighs when he feels your heart still beating, but it's slow. Dangerously slow.

He needs to get you out of here.

—

“Ekko?” Your voice is carried by the breeze as you set foot inside the familiar treehouse. You find him on his desk as usual, back hunched and turned away from you while the single red light of his lamp shines down on him. “I bought sweets as an apology.”

As you step closer, the door shuts close behind you, sucking in any light from the outside. “Are you still mad?” Once the words leave your lips, a searing heat hits your cheeks like a windblown flame carried by the breeze. “Jeez, can we open a window here? Your machine's going haywire again.” Chuckling, you cross the distance towards him, finding the familiar head of white hair. “Firefly?”

Your hands inch closer towards his still shoulder, the second your palm touches the soft cloth of his jacket, his head tilts back at inhuman speed— breaking his neck, bones cracking as thorny vines crawl from his neck up to his sunken cheeks. His brown eyes are now white as sheets, devoid of life.

“No! Ekko!” Flinching back, you hold your screams in your trembling hand, eyes wide as his limp body rises from the chair and floats above you with his arms raised to his sides. “Not him, you bitch!”

The fire in you settles in your chest, pushing you to lunge at the vines holding him up. As you click your pen and summon the gilded rapier, hacking and slashing at the vines— you try to cut him down. Desperately trying to free him.

“No, not him! Take me instead!” Your throat burns as you scream his name. Vines are cut but more replace them with every hit of your sword. “Please! You can't take another!”

Thorns fly from the severed vines, landing on you and piercing your skin in a gush of blood. But you don't stop cutting. Ekko's head tilts to the side, dangling loosely down to his clavicle as he opens his mouth and reveals a rose.

The room smells like funeral roses.

Suddenly, the vines holding him up bloom into bundles of red and black roses. The bulbs open up, revealing faces you've met, people you've cut down with your own bare hands.

The scent is overwhelming, acrid on the nose, a stench that cannot be washed out like the blood staining your hands.

As you look down at your hands, the sword clatters down on the floor as the void spreads around the room, shadows oozing from the torn off faces until darkness covers the whole place.

Your heart feels like bursting from your chest, hands trembling, feet frozen from under you as you look around the domain of chains and thorns. Tears flow down your cheeks freely as you watch Ekko hanging above you.

A silent scream escapes from your mouth when you see who's beside Ekko. There, trapped within the vines, skin pierced with thorns and eyes lifeless— is your brother.

“Hold—!” You reach towards him but you're yanked back by a vine and into the light.

Your head spins on its axis, vision blurry from the bright light shining from above you. Like the sun is in your eyes, warmth sweating through you akin to a fever. Heart beating like a war drum, you can still smell the roses in your nose.

Groaning, you place your hand above your eyes to shield yourself, only to find that your wrist is wrapped in a tight cast. The stark white plaster makes your head ache, a thrumming sensation bouncing around your skull. You feel like you're drowning in mud, sounds muffled and breath heavy in your throat. You can barely feel your fingers, wiggling each of the digits, your relief is palpable when they dance above the cast like rabbits peeking above the snow. You surmise that your wrist is broken.

“Shut the lights off, Scar.” Ekko's voice is the light in the tunnel you follow as the lights dim, and his face greets you from above. He sighs in relief, tensed brows easing up from the sight of your opened eyes. “You're awake.”

“Leaving you to her. I'll tell the others she's alright.” Scar's voice fades away as your eyes try to steady on Ekko's worried face.

Eyes narrowed at him, you purse your lips together, feeling the dry skin crack as you run your tongue over it. You exhale, breath shaky as you let it go. “Ekko?”

“Yeah,” sighing, you don't miss how his eyes wander towards your hand. “Water?” He asks, voice soft.

“Please.” The second the word escapes from your dry lips, you immediately hear water getting poured out into a cup for you. Roaming your eyes around the room, you recognize your surroundings— you're in Ekko's treehouse, all bundled up in his sheets, head placed atop his pillow that still has his minty scent wafting over your nose. “Why am I h–here?” Clearing your throat, he returns with a glass of water for you.

“You don't remember?” He asks permission to touch you, with a quick nod from you, he gently slides his hand on the back of your neck to sit you up. His thumb is placed right on your pulse, feeling your quick heartbeat under his finger.

You shut your eyes as the scene of the fight flits around in your vision. “I–I remember, why am I here?” You croak out the words.

“Drink first.” Ekko instructs, his hand is warm underneath your neck, while the other is cold as he holds the glass near your lips, condensation dripping from his fingertips.

You do as you're told, leaning closer to let him help you drink. The cold helps you feel at ease, senses slowly returning back with every gulp. To help yourself drink faster, you take the glass with your free hand, unknowingly holding Ekko's hand in turn. Water drips from your lips, and Ekko patiently waits for you to finish your drink.

With one last sip, you dip your head back and he helps you gently lay your head against the bed’s headboard. Clearing your throat, you see the bruises on his knuckles, purple hues marring his hands, and lesions along his clavicle and arms. The purple contusion on his neck has you frowning, and drowning in guilt. He places the cup on his work table right next to what looks like your pen sword all broken in half. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of it.

Your brother entrusted you with it and you manage to get it destroyed like everything you touch.

“I was asking why I'm here in your room instead of the infirmary.” Your voice floats above the silence, tone raspy as you take a breath.

“The fuckers are in the infirmary.” He curses and practically spits their names out. “Don't worry, our doctor treated you, not me.”

“I don't doubt your medical abilities, Ekko.” You manage to joke, cheek squished above the hard headboard. The bed is nothing special, the mattress is lumpy but comfortable enough to sleep in, sheets in patchwork cloth that he probably sewed himself. But the pillow under you is soft, perhaps even made with real goose feathers. You softly smile at the thought. “Did you at least get yourself checked out?” There's a sudden tightness against your forehead, reaching above, you now feel the bandage wrapped around it. The pads of your fingers gliding over the rough surface.

“I'm fine,” he says, jaws clamped shut at the way you tug at your bandages. “Here, let me. You're gonna rip your stitches.”

“Whoever the doctor is, tell them that they wrapped me too tightly. I'm still too alive to be mummified, you know?”

Ekko manages to scoff at your joke, a sound akin to a laugh. Crossing the small distance, he gestures for you to scooch over and make space for him to sit next to you. You of course oblige, moving a little as the bed dips underneath his added weight.

“‘I’m fine,’ is the code word for ‘no, I haven't seen the doctor.’ I know it well, I invented that shit, Ekko.” You let him unclasp the bandage briefly and adjust it to a more comfortable wrapping by making sure two of his fingers fit inside it. He smells of dried blood and smoke. It reminds you of home. “Can you let me at least look you over?”

“Are you a doctor now on top of being a historian?” His arm flexes above you as he secures the bandage.

There's a deeper gash on the back of his arm that you notice. You stare at him through your lashes, breath hitching in your throat as you can see every scar and mole on his skin and face. He's too occupied to notice it.

“Technically I am, but not a medical doctor. I know basic first aid from my time fighting.”

“A talented noxian then.” Ekko removes his hands from you, eyes giving you a once over for an injury he might've missed. “I'm fine, spark.”

“The cut on your arm is deep, Ekko.” You poke near the inflamed skin, making him wince and flinch away. “It'll get infected if we don't clean it. At least let me help you with that. I may be down with one hand but I can suture with my eyes closed.”

“I can do it myself.”

“It's on the back of your goddamn arm, unless you want a crick in your neck—”

“If I let you do it will you shut up?”

You smile victoriously. “Maybe.” Shrugging, you watch as he stands up, tongue clicking in annoyance.

While he grabs the necessary supplies, you look around on this side of the room that you never bothered to take a peek at for his privacy. There's a few portraits tacked on the wall, drawings of people he cared for, some you already know— especially the familiar head of blue staring down at you on his bed. You try to close a fist with your broken hand, finding that you can't do that anymore, not while it's still in a cast. Sighing, you keep roaming your eyes around the small space, there's trinkets on his bedside table, a small lamp made from an old pipe. A cracked seashell, a few screws and bolts right next to a recognizable set of colourful sea glass.

The sound of a chair scraping on wooden floorboards gets your attention away from his knick-knacks. Ekko pushes an armchair closer to the bed, the same one you've been sitting on for months. You notice his iconic jacket laying on the seat. Looking outside the window, you find that it's already dawn, bitter blue slowly ebbing away the dark of night— which means he's been sleeping in the armchair all this time, looking out for you. Your eyes brim with hot tears, which you immediately wipe away before he notices. No one has looked out for you since your professor died. Before that, it was your brother.

He notices your stare. “What? I wanted to be comfortable.” Your lips curl into a knowing smile without saying the exact words. “Can you get up?”

“I think so.” You lift both arms up like a child asking to be carried. “I need help though.” You smile wider, eyes sparkling with mischief. Ekko stares at you, brown eyes heavy with lack of sleep glaring straight into your soul. “Don't push it, got it.” You say, sitting up with few resistance from your aching body. And unbeknownst to you he was readying to help you up. Dangling your legs over the bed, you take the box of medical supplies from him and wash your hands with alcohol without another teasing jab as you concentrate on cleaning his wound.

He scooches closer to you, arm folded and lifted above his shoulder so that you get a better view of the gash. As you lean closer with the antiseptic, he sees himself in your eyes. Now seeing the burden that once gathered in the swirling pools. There's tiny scars dotted along your neck and chest that he just now notices. Like the scars on your arms and hands, it bears the ordeal of what you have done back in your homeland before you decided to take a pen rather than continue on whatever path you thought was best for you back then. Whatever it was, whatever you've done, he knows you're still trying to atone for it, carrying it over your shoulders in a lead covered box of grief.

Ekko knows that it took a lot to get where you are now. To be the kinder person than you were before, to cover the jagged lines with cloth, to make the sharpness of your teeth blunt and no longer pierce through skin like razor blades. It hurts to know that Jinx could've done that with time on her hands, if only she had time, she could've been good just like you.

“Ekko?” You call, and his eyes immediately hone in on you. “I was asking, what's gonna happen to them?”

“Sevika.” You nod as you gently tap the cotton of antiseptic on his wound. “One of her people saw what happened, and she called the enforcers to take them once they can breathe through their noses again and not through their mouth.” He intended to only glance at you, but his eyes stayed focused on the concentration on your face. “All I'm saying is they'll live.”

“There goes my reputation with Sevika.” You sigh, relieved that you didn't kill someone on the undercity soil. Your eyes glances towards Ekko's face, only to find him already staring back at you.

“Trust me, Sevika and the council already knew you could fight.”

You scoff, accidentally inhaling a whiff of the strong concoction. “That's a stereotype, Ekko. You know better than that.” Pausing to grab the suture kit, you make a face at Ekko. “They're right though.”

Ekko chuckles breathily, earning a smile at you. “Sorry about the sword.”

“Don't worry, I'll get it fixed once I'm back in Noxus. I'm more of a claymore girl myself anyway.” As you thread the needle, your tongue pokes out in between your lips. He can't help but chortle at the sight of your expression and how hard you're focused on putting the thread into the eye of the needle with one broken hand. “Damn.”

“Here, give it.” Flexing his open palm, you surrender the sutures to him. “It's that deep?” He gestures with his head towards the gash on his arm.

“Yeah, just a bandage over it won't help much.” You sniff, rolling your neck as you stretch the stiffness away.

“You hurting?”

“No, just stretching.” Your nape throbs, but you don't tell him. A comfortable silence settles in the room as he easily threads the needle.

“There,” Ekko hands it back to you and resumes his previous position as you ready the cold needle against his skin. “Where'd you learn this?”

“Short answer, you fight too much and you end up with a lot of stitches.” You chuckle, “deep breath, Ekko.”

“Don't have to—! Shit.” Wincing, he hisses at the piercing pain.

“Told you to breathe in.” Shaking your head with a smile, you continue to suture his gash carefully. “My brother was the one who was doing most of the stitching. He had a steady hand, and eyes that are so clear I swear he could see an ant from miles away.” Smiling at the memory, you remember him nagging you with every stitch he does. But he still does it for you. “After the ninth visit, he finally taught me so I stopped bothering him in his lab. He still does the suturing whenever I bleed on his floor though. He told me I'm shit at it even though I'm pretty much an expert.”

“Is he the one you were dreaming about?” Ekko didn't mean for the words to fall out of his lips, his curiosity got the best of him.

You freeze in place, needle half inside his skin. “I was dreaming? What was I saying?”

“A name.” He answers with a solemn tone. “And mine.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Hands going cold underneath his warm skin. He can feel it too, so with an apprehensive hand, he wraps your wrist with his fingers, anchoring you to him and in the moment. He knows the feeling, he's awfully familiar with it even though he refuses to acknowledge it whenever it rears its ugly head.

Smiling shakily, you take your eyes off him and continue to stitch him back together with gentleness. “I don't remember the dream. Must've been something though. We fought together and that must've made my brain make up things.” You ramble on. Your eyes dart towards his neck, tears pricking in your eyes from the sight. The pads of your fingers brush along the bruise, guilt felt through the subtle touch. “I'm sorry about this— about everything.”

He whispers your name, voice apologetic and brown eyes swimming with concern. You move away from his touch, quickly and effectively covering his injury with a bandage and some tape. “I'm—”

“My head suddenly hurts.” You try to play it off, finger jabbing at your temple, but the shaking of your hands betrays you. “The doctor said I need to rest, right?”

“Yeah, he said you need to stay here for a few days.” Ekko holds the fresh bandage, lips pursed together. “Look, I'm—”

“Sorry, I know.” Patting his knee, you give him a tight smile. “You just caught me off guard is all. It's okay, really. You're curious. Now I know how it feels to be questioned.”

He nods, but he can't help but feel the guilt gnaw at his chest. “Fine, go rest. If you need anything I'm just here.” Standing up, he takes his hoverboard that's perched on the wall. Dusk lights up his features, hair shining under the sun even with the grime of today's activities mar it.

“Yeah, I'll yell for you.” You joke as you slide back down on the bed and tuck yourself in.

Ekko places his board on his workbench to fix it. “Always a show with you.”

“Hey, it's effective, okay.” You can see him behind the armchair in the same position you always see him— hunched over his work table with his gloves on. “You should rest too, Ekko.”

His head turns to you as he slips on his goggles. “Where? You're on my bed.”

“It's big enough for two.” You tease, fighting a yawn. His pillow is so soft that it's cradling you to sleep.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” When you don't turn around after he clicks on his soldering machine, he sighs and twists back around towards you. “Turn around or I'll blind you.”

“I like watching.”

“Turn around.”

You make a mocking sound, blowing raspberries at him, “my nurse is rude. Absolutely no bedside manner.” You say as you reluctantly turn your back to him.

Ekko fixes his board for a few hours, finding that there's minimal damage at the least. He rubs his tired eyes before sneaking a peek at your sleeping form. Your chest rises up and down, lips slightly parted as your eyes dart underneath your eyelids. You're dreaming again.

When he moves his attention back to the table, he sees your broken sword and weighs the gilded handle in his hand. It wouldn't hurt to try a crack at noxian tech.

—

A familiar knock against the door to the tree house echoes out into the room— one short knock followed by three sharp knocks consecutively. The same signature knock you've been doing whenever you visit Ekko in his tree house.

“In a minute, Ekko!” You say as you pull down a clean shirt over your head. Trying to look presentable even with you being bedridden for three days, you smooth down your shirt and pants before sitting down on the edge of Ekko's bed.

“How'd she know it's you?” Vi's muffled voice sounds out from behind the door.

“Okay, entré!”

The door creaks open, the light outside flooding in as Vi pushes Ekko to get inside first. Making the said man grimace at his childhood friend.

“And they said you won't make it!” Her heavy footsteps follow her as she walks towards you with an arm stretched towards you. “How are you, spark?” She clasps your head, gently patting you and careful of your recent injuries.

“Better, the doctor said I only had a mild concussion and some bleeding.”

“Her hand's broken.” Ekko adds flatly, sitting down on the armchair with his arms crossed and leg over the other. “And it wasn't mild. Not even near mild.”

“C’mon, firefly, I was trying not to worry her.”

Vi watches the interaction with a curious brow.

“She's gonna find out anyway through Caitlyn. There's reports about what happened.”

You puff your cheeks at Ekko before ignoring him and turning your attention towards Violet. He rolls his eyes, yanking off his gloves to stretch his hands. “Where is Cait?”

“She sends her love. *Firefly here doesn't like it when she visits.” She teases, using your nickname for him as ammo. You'd pay big money just to see them during their younger years.

Ekko scoffs, head moving away from Vi but eyes staring daggers at her. “She's persona non grata, Vi.”

“C’mon, man, let bygones be bygones!” Vi claps his shoulder loudly, “that was years ago.”

“You're lucky I'm still letting you in here.” His nose scrunches, face paint folding as he glares at Vi. Thankfully, you already know what they're talking about. Kiramman's task force sending out the grey into the streets of Zaun three years ago still hasn't seen Ekko and Sevika’s forgiveness. “You have ten minutes left by the way.” He checks his stopwatch, its chain dangling from his belt.

Vi sighs, “whatever, firefly.” She turns towards you again, smiling when she meets with your eyes. “I've got your clothes from your place, I hope you don't mind me taking them.” You now notice the paper bag in her hand. You narrow your eyes at her suspiciously. “I didn't snoop!” You narrow it further, lips pursed together. “I swear, I didn't!”

Taking the bag from her with a disapproving shake of your head, you rummage through the pile of clothes, finding that it has everything you need. Hair brush, deodorant, a tooth brush and your perfume.

“You look good for someone who hasn't brushed their teeth in days.” Vi teases with a grin.

“I brushed my teeth, Vi.” You look at her, offended.

Ekko sits up from his seat. “Please don't tell me you used mine.” You smile, eyes shining with playfulness. “You—!”

“I didn't!” You laugh, hands raised in surrender. “Scar gave me a new one, jeez.”

He sighs, sitting back down but without leaving his pointed glare from you.

Vi smiles at the interaction. She sits down next to you, bed dipping down under her.

“Great, everyone's taking my bed now.” Ekko mumbles, jaw clenching in annoyance.

“You took the chair, man!” Vi exclaims, hand gesturing wildly at Ekko. They both settle down as you chuckle at them. “So, tell me what happened?”

You swallow thickly, the stitches in your head radiate phantom pain. “I—”

“She got robbed.” A half lie. Ekko answers for you after noticing your trepidation.

You can't exactly tell her that they ambushed you simply because they're holding a grudge on noxians. Vi will tell Caitlyn and Caitlyn will tell the council, and that might put your position in danger. And your work in danger of being disapproved.

“I did tell her not to flash her money.” He continues, eyes glancing at you briefly. You give him a subtle smile as a quick thank you.

“Well, good thing our boy saviour was there to help you beat them up, huh?” Vi gently nudges your shoulder and pushes Ekko's boot with the tip of her shoe.

“Yeah,” you look at Ekko softly. “Good thing.” With an inhale, you bring your attention towards Vi. “Thank you for bringing my things, Vi, but I won't need it since I'm coming back to the apartment.”

“No, you're not.” They simultaneously say in different cadence. Ekko's tone was more intensely concerned. While Vi said it with surprise.

“What? I'm fine now, trust me, this is nothing compared to—”

“We get it, you're noxian, you're tough and you've seen battles yadda yadda.” Vi mocks a talking mouth with her hand.

“Hey!” You knit your brows at her.

“The doctor said you're still not in a good shape to walk around.” Ekko explains in a much kinder tone this time. “You need a few more days of bedrest.”

“He's right. I'm no doctor, spark, but you're still swaying and you're just sitting in place.” Vi says apologetically, hand placed in between your shoulders to reassure you. Or to keep you from unknowingly swaying.

“I am?” They both nod. “I just don't want to intrude. I've been here for three days and Ekko hasn't slept in his own bed. I need to get back out there.”

“You said it yourself, there's no deadline.” Vi looks at Ekko for backup.

“I’m fine sleeping on the armchair for a few more days, red.” Ekko agrees with Vi. “‘Sides, you're not getting any writing down with your broken hand.” With the mention of your injury, the three of you look at your plastered hand with the many writings and drawings of firelight children that came to visit you.

“I'm ambidextrous.” You blatantly lie.

“I've seen you wield a sword, no you're not.” Ekko tilts his head back, looking at you like you're one of his firelights that needs a reprimand.

“I cannot not write!” You frustratingly say. “What am I supposed to do? Stay here until the doctor cuts this off?” You lift your broken hand for emphasis, waving the cast around. “That will take months!”

Vi hums next to you, eyes darting between you and Ekko. “I've got an idea.”

You pout, eyes trying to decipher her look. “Do you want Ekko to build me a writing robot that can write whatever I dictate?”

“No,” she backtracks. “Smart but no. Wait, can you do that? Like, record whatever she says?” She asks Ekko, awe in her tone.

“That'll take longer than for her hand to heal.” Ekko shrugs, but you can tell that the cogs in his head are turning trying to build your idea in his head.

“Well, in the meantime you can help her.” Vi holds the two of you by the shoulders. Connecting the two of you together.

“How?” You and Ekko speak at the same time.

“Thought you two were smart?” She chuckles, “you dictate.” Her head turns to you, “and you write.” Then she turns to Ekko.

“No.” He flatly says.

“Absolutely not.” You nervously say. “He's busy, and I've still got a lot of interviews to go through. Not to mention my own research at the mines— I'll be running around!” Rambling, Ekko nods with every word, except for when you mentioned the mines.

“That’s exactly why you need him.” Vi intercedes. “You can't write, and he has hands for it.” She takes Ekko's dominant hand and wiggles it about in front of him before he wretches it back with a glare. “And what if you suddenly collapse? Or a bunch of assholes try to rob you again? That cast is a fucking sign that says ‘I’m vulnerable, please rob me!’”

“But—!” You and Ekko share a look.

His watch clicks, a sign that your visitation hours are done.

“Looks like my time is up.” She stands up, clearly glad of the excuse as she smiles at her two flabbergasted friends. “You two can figure it out.” Before you and Ekko could protest again, she's already at the door. “Zaun’s brightest and Noxus' genius together working hand in hand!” Cackling, she leaves the room.

Silence permeates the room, and you slowly turn towards Ekko, who has his fingers pinching the space in between his eyebrows; Mumbling a curse upon Vi’s name.

“She does have a point, unless you already have that robot.” You intend to tease, but you're between a rock and a hard place right now. Maybe you can hire someone to follow you around?

“No.” He sighs, standing up, hands placed on his hips as he thinks.

“I can just ask Steb or—”

“I'll do it.” Ekko stares at you but his eyes avoids your own for a second before meeting your own. He figures that you've only got a few months left in the city before you finish your research so he agrees in hopes that the months will come by quickly. “But on my own terms and schedule.”

A grin blossoms on your cheeks. “You've got a deal, firefly.”

—

“So,” you start whilst munching on a piece of toast courtesy of the firelights mess hall. Ekko sits adjacent to you, eyes looking much better after a certain pink haired woman gave him his own mattress to sleep on after you've made a home for yourself in his room and former bed. You could've moved to a spare room somewhere in the hideout, but truth be told, you're still shaken up from what happened. Ekko's presence was a welcome peace to you. He never protested, and the two of you danced around the situation. “On the agenda today—”

“The doctor just cleared you. Too much spark, spark.” He looks at you over his mug.

“I know,” you shrug, eyes roaming around the open space with its string lights and people milling around during breakfast rush. “I don't want to waste time, genius.”

Ekko sighs, remembering the words genius and madness that suddenly popped up in his mind after years of not thinking about it. Chugging his coffee with a gulp before he stands up and gathering his things, he leaves you on the table.

“C’mon then.”

“Wait, hold on, you haven't eaten your bread yet!” Taking your satchel and jacket, you juggle between your toast between your teeth Ekko's uneaten slice for him to eat while walking. Feeling eyes on you, you see Jericho, the firelights chef give you a glare. “I'm giving it to him!” You reassure him that Ekko gets his daily dose of carbohydrates instead of eating it like he thought you would. As if you’ve stolen Ekko's food. Well, it happened once, and Jericho was the only one who gave you shit for it. You still have no idea how he even knew you did that.

As you run after Ekko, you fall back into pace with him, noticing that he slowed down for you and didn't take off on his hoverboard.

Shaking the piece of toast in front of him until he groans and takes it, you smile victoriously as he finishes it in three bites. The two of you exit the firelights commune, and the undercity greets you with the scent of coffee and steel lingering in the cool morning air.

“So schedule for today.” You wipe the crumbs off of your hands. Opening your bag, you grab your notebook and open it to where you bookmarked it last night. Your chicken scratch writing is evident on the page courtesy of your broken hand. “We have an interview with Mrs.Talis, but we have to make a quick pit stop to my place before we start talking to people.” Rubbing your temple where the ache persists, the action isn't missed by Ekko.

“Why?” He asks, keeping a close eye on the people that pass you by. “You forgot something?”

“Yeah, a pen.” You sigh, missing the weight of the gilded pen in your hand. “I've just been using yours, and sorry, but it's shit.”

Ekko casually brings his hand to his jacket pocket, rummaging through it whilst walking along the streets towards the bridge of progress. His hand feels around the cold cylinder, then without wasting time, he hands the golden pen to you.

You pause midstep, eyes widening at Ekko's hand. “You—” your breath is stuck in your throat. It looks much better than before, shinier as if nothing happened to it. It looks just like how you remember it when it was still your brother's. “—you fixed it?”

He makes a face, nose scrunching, giving you a casual smile as his eyes look behind you while you're distracted. He can't let his guard down, the people who hurt you might be behind bars now, but he still hasn't found the chem baron responsible for it. Apparently after some investigation from the enforcers and Ekko's own interrogation, he found that the said chem baron sees you as a threat. A noxian in Zaun brings less traffic for his business as some people still see you as someone to be feared— that you're in the undercity to put out any remaining flames from the past. He finds the guy, he ends the shimmer production once and for all and in turn would keep you safe. It's easier said than done, especially that you have him by your side every morning throughout the afternoon for three days a week. It's a miracle that he talked you down from making it to six days a week.

“I did.” He says, now staring at the awe on your face.

“How? I've seen people get blasted by ink just because they forced the fucking thing open!” Exclaiming excitedly, you catch a handful of attention towards you and Ekko.

With a casual hand on your forearm, he guides you back to walking further towards the bridge in the distance. “It's delicate,” he says, eyeing a particular man watching you. “You can't force it open.”

“Is that why you got a splotch of ink on you a few days ago?” You poke his side teasingly, feeling how tense he is under his jacket. Making a face you act like you're staring at something behind him. “What's that?”

“What's what?” Ekko quickly turns around trying to find what you were staring with concern at.

Reaching towards his chest, you place your warm palm atop where his heart is. He looks at you, glancing between your hand and your face with furrowed brows. “Quiet, it's beating.” His heart beats louder as you whisper to him closely. “It's beating faster.” You say, feigning shock and awe.

“Right, I get it, shut up.” He pushes your hand away gently, eyes rolling from your joke. Glancing at a shadow near an alleyway next to the two of you, he visibly stiffens.

“You okay, Ekko?”

Turning his attention towards you once the man walks away, Ekko nods and squeezes your arm before letting go. “Yeah, what's on our agenda today?”

Clearing your throat, your smile hasn't faded since you got the pen back in your hand. Clicking it open, you scratch out the first part on your schedule. “Well, we don't have to go to my place anymore so, Mrs. Talis first in upper Piltover, then if we still have time we need to swing by the academy.”

“We'll make time.” He says, eyes stopping by Vander's statue and the eternal blue flower that's always fresh near his bronze feet.

“We don't have to rush, you got hurt too you know.” Nudging his shoulder, you spot him stare at the flower for a brief second before he turns towards you. “Thank you by the way,” you say softly, “for fixing my pen sword.”

“Don't worry about it,” he places his hands back inside his pockets. “We're even now, spark.”

“Nope, I owe you.” You laugh when he glances at you with a raised brow and flat look. “How about…” glancing around, you see the last drop, it's probably almost done based on the fact that they're now putting up the lights. “I’ll buy you a drink once the tavern opens.”

“You won't even be here when it opens.”

“Says who? Stop trying to get rid of me, firefly.”

“You just noticed?”

“I'm hurt, Ekko.” You say as he abruptly stops near the bridge that's now bustling with life. Smiling, you nudge him gently on the shoulder. “Looks great, right?”

“There used to be barriers and spotlights here.” He utters, tone soft and small from the memory. He has flown above the bridge a handful of times before, but he never got too close to see it all.

“I think they scrapped those.” Grinning, you gently take him by his sleeve, urging him to walk through the bridge but not pushing him. You let him go at his own pace. “They have a shop here that gives out free shit if you're a new customer. They have a wheel you can try and it's full of free stuff you can win.”

Ekko closes his eyes for a moment, head turned towards the blue sky. The sunlight bathes him in its glow, illuminating his subtle smile. “Where?”

Grinning, you can't hide your excitement as you tug him along the shops. “Come on! I need to show you where I buy my ingredients and sweets!”

—

Ekko's boots thump quietly on the hallway leading towards a lone apartment at the end of the expansive hallway. The walls are in the signature Piltover colors, pristine white paint and golden accents decorate the space. When he was younger, he always wanted to stay at a place like this. Now that he's older and much wiser, the place feels stiff, something akin to feeling out of place. It doesn't feel like home to him.

“What am I supposed to do here?” He asks gruffly, pausing by the door as you ready your knuckle to knock. He senses your slight apprehension.

“Just write everything I ask and their answer. I'll clean it up once I can actually hold a pen.” Sighing, you stare at the number on the door. “And if you're feeling poetic, you can write what the atmosphere is like, or how they're feeling.”

“How would I know how they're feeling?” He leans against the side wall, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at you with a questioning brow.

“I thought you're perceptive, firefly.”

“Never said I am.” He raises his chin at you, “what are you waiting for?”

“Just…” you inhale, “If you ever decide to get in on the conversation, please remember to be tactful. These people lost someone, and us talking to them would take so much out of them. We're dredging through things they don't want to be reminded of.”

“You said that you don't ask questions if they don't let you.” You nod at his genuine question. “Then why do they let you?”

“Closure. Sometimes people just want to let it all out to someone rather than letting it fester. Even if that someone is a stranger.” Finally, you knock, the same rhythm you always do. You leave Ekko thinking in the corner as the door swings open.

“Can I help you?” A lithe older woman opens the door, peeking through the tiny crack as she looks at you and Ekko with uneasiness.

“Hello, Mrs.Talis, I'm the one you sent the letter to, the historian.” You smile politely, “and this is my assistant, Ekko.” He side eyes you, subtly rolling his shoulders. “I hope you don't mind that I brought someone with me. My dominant hand isn't in good shape.”

She opens the door a bit more, concern written on her face as she knits her brows at the fading bruises and the cast on your hand. “You're hurt?”

“Not anymore, thanks to him.” You gesture with your head towards Ekko, he glances between you and Mrs.Talis for a second. “I'm recovering well, don't worry. And I'm sorry for rescheduling our meeting three times.”

“It's alright, now I know you weren't joking about the reason.” She chuckles, stepping aside to let you in. “Come in, I was just putting the kettle on.”

“Thank you.” As you enter, you immediately notice the empty shelves and cabinets where there's still shapes made of dust, as if she took all the decorations out and left the place bare. You and Ekko share a look.

“Please sit down, I'll get the biscuits.”

“Oh, no need.” You show her the paper bag that has pastries you bought just for the occasion. It's missing a couple of pieces from when you and Ekko snacked on them on the way. “We got them from the bridge. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all.” She smiles, but you can sense that she's nervous. It's probably the first time she has guests over in a long time. “I'll get the plates.” She scampers towards the kitchen, disappearing from view.

You sit down on the plush couch, placing down the paper bag on the coffee table. Ekko sits adjacent to you on a brown armchair. Rummaging through your bag, you hand him your notebook and pen. “Here, before I forget.”

He stretches over the table to get your things. “I've got my own pen.” He doesn't miss the fact that you've entrusted him with the precious pen.

“Didn't know you're prepared for this.” Chuckling, you smile sweetly at him. “Use whatever you want.”

With a shrug, he opens the notebook, careful not to give the pages a read as he flips through to get to an empty page. He swears he saw a drawing of him in a couple of them. Glancing at you as you look around the apartment, he clicks your pen, ready to take down the interaction.

Eyes roaming around, you see the walls that are covered in old photographs. Some are from what you surmise as Jayce's childhood, the others were pictures of his achievements. From a newspaper clipping, to his graduation picture that sits front and center, his smile is plastered all over the walls. As you look to your left, you see an ajar door, where boxes upon boxes of arcane memorabilia is hidden from view. There are stones that are as blue as the sky, runes carved in various shaped stones. You now know what used to sit on the empty shelves. Eyes narrowed to see closer, you spot a single picture frame where a dusty photo of Jayce and someone you don't recognize stands next to him. You decide to be extra careful with your words during the interview.

Feeling eyes on you, you crane your neck over to Ekko as he gestures towards the kitchen, where Mrs. Talis is currently exiting with a tray of plates, teacups and a teapot.

“Sorry for the wait.” She smiles as she gently places the tray next to the paper bag of sweets.

“No worries, it wasn't that long.” You say as you help her place the pastries on each plate, making sure you give the bigger one to Ekko.

An uncomfortable silence permeates around the room while she pours tea over each cup.

“Sugar?”

“Please.” You smile politely as she hands you your cup.

Mrs. Talis turns her attention towards Ekko, and he shakes his head at her. “None for me, thanks.”

“My partner here doesn't like tea.” You try to lighten the mood. “Says that it makes his nose itch.” Ekko scrunches up his nose at you, face paint folding as he tries not to huff.

“Oh, alright then.” She chuckles, and you smile victoriously from getting a genuine reaction from her. And in turn easing the tension. Taking a sip from her cup, the slight shake from her hand can't be missed as she places it quietly back down on the tray. “Sorry, I haven't done this before.”

“It's alright, just treat this like we're old friends chatting away at a cafe.”

“That's a nice thought.” She places her hand over her heart.

“It is. I'm sorry about your son.” She purses her lips, the words leaping over her head as if she has heard the exact words one too many times for it to matter anymore. You hear Ekko writing away, and you smile fondly at how he's slowly falling into deep concentration like how he usually is when he's trying to fix tech. “How are you, Mrs.Talis?”

She chuckles nervously, fingers picking at the dry skin around her nails. “After everything?” You nod, “I— I don't know really. Just…floating around, I guess. Have we started yet?”

“We have, but if you want we can strike that from the interview.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I—I…feel alright. Getting there.” Clearing her throat, you can see her shoulders stiffen. “I know you're here to talk about my boy, so I won't waste your time talking about myself when there's nothing to talk about.”

“That's not true, Mrs.Talis. I'm here to talk about you too.” You try to get her to ease up, but the way her lips wobble, you know she's still hurting. “We're conducting this research about citizens in Piltover and Zaun. To know the effects of war on regular people. Not just what happened that day.” Ekko, looks at you and then to the anxious woman.

Her sniffs shift through the quiet in the room. You let her take her time, inhaling through the emotions rolling in her. You know that she reached out to you for a reason, to finally get the pain out of her chest even if it hurts more to speak about it. Because saying it loudly makes it real, but not speaking about it would eat at her, chipping away the woman her son knew.

“My son was a good boy.” She says after a minute of silence. “I want the people to know that.”

“The people know that, Mrs. Talis. They're grateful for everything he has done for them.” You say, and the grieving woman takes your hand abruptly. Ekko watches the interaction with a close eye.

“I just— I can't help in thinking that it was my fault.” She squeezes your hand. “You said that we should talk like old friends, this is me speaking like we are.” You nod in understanding, letting her speak her piece. “I warned him years ago. I told him to let it go. But maybe I shouldn't have, I pushed him away further into it.”

“Further into what, Mrs. Talis?”

“Further into the arcane just because it saved me that day.” She continues as you search her tearful eyes. “If that didn't happen, he might be alive, I'd be dead but at least he'd be alive. He was so young, too young for… I don't even know what happened to him up there. They just told me that he was taken by an explosion caused by hextech.” Heaving, she wipes away her tears. “That damned hextech.”

Her sobs echo around the room, prompting you to grab a piece of tissue from your bag and hand it to her. She accepts it gratefully, then wiping away at the fallen tears.

“It wasn't your fault, what happened to him was set off by different circumstances that no one could've prevented or seen coming.” You try to ease her as more tears flow. Your heart weighs heavy at the sight of the grieving mother. Was yours like this when she heard of your brother's fate? You wouldn't know when you chose to run away from it all.

“I know what happened up there.” Ekko's voice has the woman looking up at him. “I was there.”

You trust Ekko enough to let him take the reins, but you can't help but worry that his next words wouldn't bring comfort to the sorrow in her heavy heart. With a nod and a wordless look at him, you let him continue.

“You saw him?” Mrs. Talis stares at him with shock, listening intently at the stranger before her.

“He fought until the very end. He brought me enough time to get the final hit in.” Ekko's eyes shine under the light, soft as he comforts her. “We wouldn't be here if he didn't. He didn't fail.”

“He did all that?” Her sobs turn into a hopeful smile. “Oh my boy.” She turns towards his picture on the mantle, palm placed above her heart. “Thank you.” She tells Ekko tearfully.

You gently smile at Ekko, and he gives you a curt nod. After a while, Mrs. Talis looks over to you with renewed energy. “Can we continue? This time I won't derail the interview.”

“You didn't do any derailing.” You whisper to her with a more playful smile that she gladly beams at. “Are you sure we can continue?”

“Yes, the people need to know about Jayce. I'm not letting my boy dissolve away.”

You pat her hand, nodding at Ekko to continue writing. “Alright then. Tell me if it gets too much and we'll stop.”

—

“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Talis—” You say before you're interrupted by a hug from the woman. “Oh.” Patting her awkwardly, Ekko tamps down his chuckles with a hand.

She lets you go, holding you at arm's length. “Thank you, I feel…alright now. Lighter.” Turning towards Ekko, she gives him another grateful grin. “And thank you again, Ekko. What happened up there would've been a mystery to me if you didn't say anything. So thank you.”

“‘Course.” He says, smiling softly at her.

The two of you leave the building in silence. It's midday now and people are milling about the restaurants to grab a seat during the lunch rush.

“Do you want to have lunch at my place?” You blurt out, nudging his side.

“You buying?”

“No, but I'm cooking.”

“As long as it's not sweet.”

“I'm not hearing a no though.” You say with a lilt. He rolls his eyes, but the subtle smile he has on his lips betrays him.

—

The air smells savoury as Ekko opens a window to let out the smoke from the kitchen. You stir at a pot of stew, it was quickly thrown together with whatever ingredients you have in your fridge, but neither you nor Ekko are complaining about it. Your sleeves are rolled up, battle scars unabashedly on display. And Ekko is more casual now that he doesn't have to look over his shoulder and behind you with vigilance. He shrugged off his jacket a while ago, now in his regular tank top and bandana. Twists up in a bun after he helped you chop some vegetables.

“How do you do it?” He asks as he leans against the counter right next to you.

“I just threw whatever I thought would taste good together.”

“Not what I meant, spark.”

“I knew exactly what you meant, firefly.” You pause from stirring, lifting up the wooden spoon to scoop out a bit of the stew. After blowing on the steam, you hand it to Ekko. “Try it. I might've added too much salt.”

“You haven't answered my question.”

“Taste the stew and I'll answer it.” You push it towards him until he takes the spoon, hand brushing along your own briefly.

He gives you a narrowed look before sipping at the soup. “More pepper.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Ekko places the spoon on the counter as you shake the pepper shaker a few times before stirring the pot with a new spoon. “The question.”

“I’ve gotten used to it, this is my job you know.” You stretch your hand before mixing again. “And I'm not as heartless as you think I am.”

“I don't think that you're heartless. And that's not what I meant.” Ekko takes the spoon from your hand, and you let him. Side by side, he stirs the pot for you. “I meant how you could listen to all of that without wanting to fight against the very thing that hurt them.”

You lean on the counter, hip pressed against the cold marble. “I want to and wanted to. But violence answered by violence leads to more bloodshed. But that doesn't mean I haven't tried. Or have done it before.”

“You took revenge for someone else?” He levels with you, hearing the stew bubble up before shutting the stove off and blending it again.

“Too many times, Ekko. But I quickly learned that how many times I do it for someone, nothing will bring the dead back.” You leave the counter to take the plates from the cupboard. “And I got an earful from my professor, which helped.”

He chuckles as you briefly leave the kitchen to place the plates on the dinner table. Your apartment is small and cozy but you're grateful enough to even have your own place while you're here. Ekko feels right at home with your strewn about papers all over the bed in the corner, and various photographs that you temporarily taped beside your bed. He saw what looked like you and your brother in a small laboratory, and a polaroid of you with an old woman. You're all smiles in all of them, but your eyes hide pain underneath the printed ink.

You return to his side, leaning over him to grab the drinking glasses from the upper shelves. His back presses against your front, and he side steps to give you space, swallowing thickly from the brief contact.

“Your turn.” You hold the glasses, eyes staring at him suspiciously. He raises a brow. “Are any of the things you told Mrs. Talis truthful?”

Ekko stares at you head on. “Does it matter? It helped her.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Yes, because this is history, Ekko. If you decide to change it on a whim, how truthful would the rest be?”

“I assumed that he did—”

“So you lied?”

“You did.”

The argument has the air inside the apartment tense and smothering. The heat from the stove has you over the edge, but with Ekko beside you, he holds you away from the cliffs unknowingly.

“I did,” you move closer to him, standing toe to toe with him. “So I could do my job. Now tell me, Ekko, what really happened to Jayce Talis?”

He inhales, getting a whiff of his own soap on your skin, and the sweet smelling perfume you always wore. “He was already injured when I got there. So I assumed that he fought hard until he couldn't. Viktor was too powerful,” he knits his brows together, memories of that day flicking through his mind. “I can't explain it, but I saw them talking to each other in the void for a second when his puppets got to me. I think Jayce talked him down.”

A smile slowly spreads across your cheeks, clinking the glasses together like you're celebrating.

Realization hits him. “You knew I wasn't lying.”

“Yep, I can read you like an open book, my guy.” Walking away, Ekko follows behind you, hand reaching for your elbow. He twirls you around, gentle enough not to hurt but the shock of it is evident on your face. The small of your back hits the dinner table, he notices, sliding his hands in between you and the wood to prevent it from happening again. He then leans close to your face until your breath fans across his cheeks. He looks like he's about to swallow you whole. “Finally got something out of you, boy savior.”

“What is up with you?”

“Still can't get a read on me?” You tilt your head, palms placed atop his chest, his warmth radiating off him. You look like you're about to let him swallow you whole. “Let me spell it out for you. You're stubborn, and if I'm never going to get an answer out of you, then might as well get a partial one.”

He glares at you, the light shining right on his eyes. If anyone walked in on the two of you right now, they'd think something else was happening as you're placed so close to him that his face is mere inches away from you. If you just lean a bit closer you can smudge his face paint with the tip of your nose.

“Has anyone told you that you have pretty eyes?” You say with a longing sigh. It's not a lie, not even a half assed one. “It's so easy to get lost in them.” The simple words have him letting you go with a huff.

Ekko pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly irked by you and your mind games.

“If I didn't ask, I wouldn't know about Viktor if you didn't mention him. Until now he has been nameless. Vi called him the cult guy. It's like they erased him.”

He lifts his head up, “no one told you about him?”

“Nope. Now I really have a genuine reason to ask the council permission to go ask questions around the academy.” Your sly smile has Ekko conflicted.

Ekko groans, stomping away towards the coat rack to grab his jacket. “We were supposed to go there today and you're telling me that you don't have a permit to go and sniff around?”

You shrug, “yeah. Now you're into permits?” He puts on his jacket with a click of his tongue. “Before you storm out, can we eat? I made too much and I don't like wasting food.”

Ekko takes a beat, head downturned, shoulders sagging and admitting defeat. Then he yanks off his jacket and places it back on the rack before shuffling towards you and sitting down on the dinner table.

“Good choice.” You snap your fingers at him. “Get ready for your taste buds to be opened!” He groans in reply.

—

Ekko waits for you outside the academy, hoverboard strapped on his back, and a face that has students walking away from him before they could ask what his business he has in the place.

The morning sun is pleasant across his cheeks, warming him up from the cool breeze when he was flying towards Piltover. He takes out his watch for the umpteenth time, checking how late you are. With every minute that passes, Ekko's annoyance gets bigger. And with every second that passes where he doesn't see you in the designated meetup place, he worries that it's just like time. What if you got beat up again? The sight of your limp body in his arms still haunts him to this day. He'll never admit to anyone that he was in awe of you that day, or that you remind him of a certain someone. He'd rather talk to you about what happened to him during the war than speak about his thoughts while he was desperately getting you back to the hideout.

Your familiar footsteps have him looking up from his pocket watch. “You're late.”

“Holy shit, you're here.” You heave in place, stopping right in front of him.

“Why wouldn't I be?” He quickly checks you for injuries, thankfully finding none.

His eyes on you doesn't fly over your head. “I thought you'd be too mad at me to actually come.”

Narrowing his eyes, Ekko walks away with his hands in his pockets. “You're right.”

“Wait!” You reach for his wrist with your good hand. “Come on, you're already here anyway.” Smiling sweetly, you give him a squeeze. “Please, Ekko. I promise I'll be on my best behaviour this time. No mind games, no bullshitting you.” You haven't noticed that your hand has slid down his wrist, and that you're now holding his hand in the middle of the academy plaza. “Just honest to god work.”

Ekko looks at the intertwined hands, mind reeling back to the day before the war when he held her hand. You duck to meet with his eyes, following his line of sight, you take his silence as him being uncomfortable with your touch. So you slide your hands away, chuckling nervously as you wring your hands together

“Sorry, I sometimes forget that I'm touchy with friends. Haven't hung out with one in a few years.”

“We're friends?” He raises a brow, genuinely asking the question, he doesn't mean to hurt you with the words. But after everything, he doubts that you see him as one.

“I'm going to act like that didn't hurt me.” Turning around, you hide the pained look on your face with the excuse of getting inside the academy. “Anyway, we've got a full schedule for today. So let's get on with it before you burst a vein.”

Ekko opens his mouth to say…something. He doesn't even know if it'll be an apology or another sarcastic comment that usually matches your own. Before he could, the large double doors open automatically. The gears churn from the weight, and he marvels at the engineering. It's simple but given its age, it was advanced back then.

Stepping inside, the large expansive halls of the academy greets the two of you. Walls upon walls of portraits and sculptures line the hallway. Anyone who was important in Piltover and the academy was there, leaving their permanent marks on its ancient walls.

Marble columns hold up the place, decorated with laurel leaves and carved owls that look down from their perch. There, in the middle of the room sits a statue of no other than professor Heimerdinger. His marble form is perfectly carved in stone, Ekko can practically hear his voice from the sight alone.

“The man of the hour.” You say, looking up at the statue. “Does it look like him, Ekko?”

He takes his attention from the statue to you, “it's accurate enough, needs a bigger mustache though.”

Your rolling laughter echoes in the halls, a few students pause to check the commotion before returning to what they were doing. Ekko smiles softly then takes another look at Heimerdinger.

“He looks intelligent.” You whisper to him after you disturbed the peace. “Was he fun? I heard from the council members that he was actually quite funny. Eccentric was the word they actually used.”

Ekko gives the statue a fond smile. “He was.”

“Come on,” you nudge him gently. “We need to talk to a lot of people.”

“I thought we were here for Viktor?”

“Yeah, and Heimerdinger too. Apparently no one knows what his fate is. And as someone as important as him, that's fucking weird.” You walk away, and he falls right into step with you.

“And you think you'll get your answers here?” He asks, eyes glancing at you.

“Nope.” You pop the letter ‘p’, a bit too cheerful for the subject of the missing professor. Eyes flicking towards him, you smile. “It won't hurt to try though. What if he's just hiding within these halls, you know? I like a good mystery to solve.”

“He's not here.” He shakes his head at your playfulness. He's thinking that you already have a theory on who might know what happened to him. And the answer is staring right at you.

“And you'd know that because?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Sure, a hunch.” Your smile tells him the answer to his own question.

—

After five whole hours of speaking to a few of Heimerdinger's former students, fellow professors and even the lunch lady, you surmise that he's not anywhere near the academy. Or even in the same country. There's a few theories floating around in your mind, either he ran away to another country after what happened to hextech. Or the answer lies to the last person who saw him, who coincidentally is right next to you, shuffling through documents in the academy archive.

The place is as expansive as its history. Rows of bookshelves line each wall. Like a library but filled with boring information like student records and academy files rather than riveting stories. The harsh lights have you shielding your eyes, and the air is kept stale inside to preserve tha documents. So no windows to open to let in fresh air, not to mention that you can't bring in food or drinks, so munching on sweets while researching is out of the question. You're bored out of your mind after three hours of looking through documents. it's like you're back in your academy studying things you already have knowledge about. The place even smells like it, old books and withered paper floating around the windless space.

You roll up next to Ekko on an office chair, arms crossed over the back casually and chin pressed atop it. “Psst!” You let out a sound like a bird call. Ekko rolls his eyes, craning his head to look at you. “Do you have the answer to number twelve?”

Ekko furrows his brows with a confused smile. “What? Is that how you got your numerous degrees?” He jokes back, earning a grin from you.

“No, and I was just fucking around.” You chuckle, poking his bicep, unintentionally feeling the hard muscle underneath. You clear your throat with a timed cough. “Any luck on your end?”

“None, just the usual academy shit. Complaints, student records, nothing on Viktor.”

You furrow your brows, “not even a mention?”

Ekko shakes his head, frustration rolling off him like waves on the shore. “You're right, it's like they erased him.”

“That's fucked up.” Pushing your feet forward, you roll around him, stopping when your hip hits the other side of the table. “Is there a chance you know anything about him?”

“No, all I know is that he helped develop hextech and that he was from the undercity.” He sighs, pinching the corner of his tired eyes. “I remember that he preferred to be in the background, but his name was everywhere back then. Not as much as Jayce, still, he definitely existed.”

“Maybe I can find something in Zaun then. You're just as intrigued as me, huh?” Poking his cheek, he leans back, waving your finger away from him. “Are you sleeping well, Ekko?” Your tone is laced with worry.

His eyes narrow suspiciously at you. “Why are you late?”

“Asking my question with a question, classic deflection tactic.” You chuckle, feet swinging around as you stare at him teasingly. He stares at you, not backing down. “Fine, nosey. I had to convince the council to let me conduct an investigation here. It took some convincing. And me talking down at them and saying that if they've got nothing to hide, then they shouldn't worry.”

“And that worked?” His brown eyes widened for a second.

“God no. I only said that in my head.” You poke your temple, joking and earning a chuckle out of him. “I did manage to convince them though.”

“With bribes?”

“Of course.” You tilt your head, the tip of your shoe nudging his seat. “You know me so well.” Smiling, you pull yourself closer to him with your foot kicking you in place until you slam gently against his chair. “My turn, have you been sleeping well since I left?”

“What makes you think that you've got anything to do with it?” He pushes you away from him with his foot.

“Please, you were sleeping like a baby when I was there.” Not backing down, you pull yourself back into place, annoying him further. “Was it my calming presence—?!” The next thing you know, you're rolling away from him after he kicked your chair.

“It's the opposite, spark.” He says, now ways away from you as your chair hits a book cart.

“Your snoring says otherwise!” You yell, palms cupping up next to your mouth. You ignore the ache around your broken wrist.

You can hear his scoff from where you are. “I don't snore.”

“Yes, you do.” Chuckling, you see him rolling towards your way. “Shit.” He's getting closer, speeding up towards you. “Catch me if you can!” Waddling away, using your legs as paddles as you push and roll away from him, your laughter echoes throughout the space.

“Come back here!” He can't prevent the smile appearing on his lips. “I don't snore.”

“Yes, you do!” Giggling, you mimic the sound of snoring.

The sound of a ruler slamming down on the table has you and Ekko freezing up in place.

—

“Man, I can't believe that old lady can be so mean.” You frown, stretching your broken wrist as the two of you exit the double doors of the academy after getting kicked out. Your wrist has been throbbing ever since the archivist made the two of you clean up all the piles of books and documents you picked up from the shelves.

“You haven't met a lot of old ladies then.” Ekko glances at your wrist. “You hurting? How's your head?”

“I'm good, don't worry.” You chuckle, eyes staring fondly at the concern on his face. “Just aching a bit from all the lifting.”

“I told you to leave it to me.”

“What do you know, I'm stubborn, just like—”

“Me, I know.” He interrupts, and yet you grin at him.

The sun is setting, birds chirping and the people are on their way home just like you. It's way past Ekko's designated schedule with you, but he doesn't seem to mind when he hasn't mentioned it.

“I've got a question, Ekko.” He side glances at you, lips pursed together. “Off the record, I promise, just genuinely curious.”

“You're always curious.” He stops walking, letting you continue.

“I'll take that as a compliment.” Smiling, you stare at him through your lashes. “Why didn't you go to the academy?” He saw that question a mile away. “You're smart, I'm sure you would've gotten in. Hell, I'm betting good money that you're smarter than the students we interviewed today. Seriously, who describes being sad as sad? You're a PHD candidate, use sorrow or melancholy for fucks sake.”

Ekko's laughter has you grinning from ear to ear. The sunset shines on him, brown eyes sparkling, hair drenched in orange as the charms wrapped his twists glimmer just like his smile. Your heart skips a beat, hopefully unnoticeable by the man himself.

His laughter subsides, leaving the crinkle in the corner of his eyes in its wake. “I didn't have time, I had people to take care of. Studying in the academy wasn't worth it when you don't know how you'll be able to survive to see next week.”

Your heart squeezes in place. “That's— I'm sorry.”

He gives you a soft smile. “Don't worry, I know I'm smarter than them. I don't need a piece of paper to tell me that I am.”

“Very humble of you, firefly.” You playfully punch his forearm, “very true though. You're smarter than anyone that I currently know.”

“That was almost nice of you.”

Your shared laughter mixes together in harmony, filling the near empty academy plaza with warmth.

Suddenly, your name is called from behind, stopping the two of you mid laughter. Turning around, you see the source of the voice.

Your face brightens up even more from the sight of the familiar enforcer. “Steb! What are you doing here?” Waving him over, he speed walks towards you as he carries a bundle of fur in his arms. “You cold or something?”

His eyes smile at you, blue skin sparkling under the setting sun. “No, just arresting a little menace causing mayhem in the streets.”

Just as he says it, a pair of eyes pop open from the bundle, then a snout, and then the cutest yelp you've ever heard.

“Is that Heimer’s dog?” Ekko asks, whilst you coo at the ball of fur.

“He's so cute!” Your hands reach towards Steb, palms splayed atop his hands. Ekko sees the enforcer softly smile at the contact. “Oh,” you lift your head, staring at Steb. “Steb, meet Ekko. Ekko, meet Steb.”

Ekko lifts his chin up in greeting, shoulders straight, and hands nonchalantly in his pockets. Steb nods curtly, glancing between you and Ekko briefly.

“Nice to meet you.” The enforcer politely smiles then turns towards the cooing you with a much gentler smile. His voice is smooth, like a whisper in your ears. You always found it calming, just like Ekko's. “Found him running around with trash in his mouth, so don't let him lick you.” You giggle, petting the tiny ball of fur. “He's not usually this friendly to strangers. Do you want to hold him?”

You gasp, grinning. “Can I?” Steb nods, handing the dog to you carefully. “He's so soft!” Jumping in place, the small dog looks up at you with a tilt of his head. You introduce yourself to him like usual, making the two men next to you smile. “You're so cute! You remind me of the dogs back in Noxus, the only difference is that you won't maul me.” Giggling, you cradle him in your arms. “What's his name?”

“Porofessor. Poro for short.” Steb answers with a subtle smile as you squeal in place. “He's blind in one eye, probably just as old as his owner.”

“Who's his owner?”

“Heimerdinger.” Steb and Ekko answer at the same time. Ekko glances briefly at the enforcer, while Steb clears his throat, hands crossed over his back.

“I heard you were attacked.” Steb asks, concern laced in his tone. “I processed the criminals myself.” Your smile falters for a second, aching wrist throbbing against your cast. “But I want to know how you are.” His hand grazes along the white plaster. Ekko clenches his jaw briefly, eyes looking between you and the uniformed man in front of him.

“I'm doing okay now, Steb. You really don't have to worry. You know me, I can handle a punch, or two.” You reach for his elbow, giving him a squeeze before releasing. He smiles, Ekko can practically feel the fondness rolling out of Steb in waves. “Anyway, who's been taking care of poor Poro?” The dog barks when he heard his name.

“No one,” you and Ekko give the dog a worried look. “Well, everyone pitches in to take care of him, but he keeps running away and back to the academy. He doesn't stick too long in one place.”

Your hand brush along his soft fur. “He's probably waiting for him.” Your tone is mournful, arm giving the dog a squeeze. “What if I take him with me for now? I'm sure he'd like the company. And just like you said, he's gonna run back to the academy anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Steb asks, taking a closer step towards you. To Ekko's surprise, you don't move away. “If it's not too much trouble for you, I can inform the academy grounds keeper that Poro’s with you. He's usually the one feeding him.” With a hand upon your back, Steb casually gives you a half hug. Ekko feels like he should turn away, or fly away. “I'm really glad you're alright, red.”

Ekko realizes that he's not the only person who calls you that.

“Thank you, blue.” The two of you smile at each other. Ekko should really turn away now. His eyes look around, refraining from staring at the two of you for too long. Suddenly he finds the roof of the academy intriguing. “And yeah, I'm sure. And I promise to bring him back before I leave.”

Steb leans away, hands retreating back to his side, smile never leaving his lips. “You better, he's the academy mascot at this point.”

You lift up Poro in front of your face, his pink tongue rolls out of his mouth. “I'll be back. Don't worry, Steb.” You say in a high pitched tone, miming like the dog is the one who's talking.

The uniformed enforcer chuckles, “right, see you around, red.” He gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Ekko.” Nodding at Ekko, he returns to his straight edge enforcer self as Ekko replies with his own brief nod. With one last smile from him to you, he walks towards the academy.

You turn towards Ekko this time, Poro still lifted up in front of your face. “Wanna have dinner at my place?” you continue to mime using Poro, who looks like he's having the time of his life as he wags his tail happily. “I'm starving!”

Ekko shakes his head, laughing at your antics. He can't believe you're the same person he saw beat up a whole gang even when you're already injured. You must've been something during your time at the guild and the legion.

“Stew?” He asks, petting the dog as he smiles at you.

“Sure, if you want it again. I've stocked up on ingredients this time around.” Putting back Poro in your arm, you beam up at Ekko. “We have to invite another guy though.”

Ekko frowns for a half second before realizing that you're talking about Heimerdinger's dog. “I'm sure he likes the invitation.” You grin bigger at his reply.

The two of you start walking outside the academy gates. Ekko casually takes the satchel from your shoulder, and you let him carry it as you glance at him with a knowing smile.

“So you and Steb?” He asks, a bit muffled above the breeze and Poro’s breathing.

You tamp down your grin by biting down at your lower lip. “Simple answer, no.”

Ekko nods, hand reaching behind you with an open palm placed on the small of your back with the guise of guiding you around the busy city.

A/N: I had to cut this in half because it's gotten too long lol thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you liked it ❤️

Photos are from Pinterest

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[apollo-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI - 3. Expense.

Character(s): Kakavasha Tags: Long fic, discussions of blood and medical practices (not explicit), medical equipment, needles (not explicitly used), implied blood loss Word count: 2,771 words

Summary: More details about the day-to-day life of Dr. Kakavasha and his- er- experiments.

Author's Note: I know, I know. I'm super fuckin late. I apologise. Recently moved house and have been looking for a paid job. Finally got one, so I'm now able to work more consistently on this fic.

Also, there's a lot of medical jargon in here, so I'll put the definitions of what means what at the end. This is also on my Ao3!

As always, this was inspired by the incredible @havanillas!

Account Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Prologue

4:56pm - Wednesday

The salary of a scholar is a feeble one. 

The salary of a doctor is a little better, though only when medical, not educational. It’s all well and good having five pHds under your belt until you have to find a stable income afterwards without being crippled by student debt. With rent near Veritas Prime on the rise after every new intake of students, high taxes and course budget cuts, and the executives of the university refusing to give the faculty a raise, Kakavasha struggles greatly with his finances.

On a slightly different but relevant note: why are tuxedos so damn expensive? They are even more so if they, like in his case, need to be ordered for next-day delivery. He’s been searching ever since the work day ended, scouring the web for a suit suitable for a party as extravagant as the one he’s attending. Kakavasha is beginning to regret his prior willingness to go to such an event, but Cassandra already sent the RSVP hours ago and it would be in poor taste to cancel now. He’s looking at a minimum of 500 credits going towards this stupid thing, and the thought alone makes him sick to his stomach. He can’t help but think this is going to end up a waste of both his time and his money; there wasn’t even a guarantee that Lapis Lazuli was going to be there in the first place.

Kakavasha scoffs at himself as he scrolls mindlessly on website after website. He’s acting like a twelve-year-old fanboy about to see a famous celebrity (even though Veritas Ratio is a famous celebrity - by a technicality). Excited is too strong an adjective. Interest is better. Yes, that’s the one. He is filled with scholarly curiosity about the potential of meeting the man he's so closely compared to.

He continues his ministrations on his computer, though his eyes are completely unfocused. Blurs of colours in the vague shape of suits fly past his eyes as he looks but doesn’t see

Suddenly a flash of dark green meets him and his vision falls back into focus. It's a nice suit, Kakavasha thinks; a three-piece tuxedo with the trousers and jacket a deep forest-like colour that certainly matches his style: the waistcoat a slightly darker colour with white pinstripes. How lucky of him to find it. He swipes through the different model pictures and sizing charts and finds his size for all three pieces. Scrolling further down, he looks at the price and winces. 630 credits. Within his budget, yes, but only barely. Kakavasha sighs to himself. He doubts he'd find another suit any nicer for a lower price, so he holds back a grimace and pays for the item.

There. It’s done now, thank Gaiathra Triclops. He leans back in his chair with his hands linked behind his head, a large and drawn-out groan escaping him. A buzzing is heard and Kakavasha watches with vague dread as his phone vibrates across the table slightly. Perhaps it’s Cassandra ensuring the doctor has something to eat on his way home, or maybe it’s one of his students with a question about what they learned in the seminar today. Wishful thinking - how unscholarly of him. He picks up his phone and sees the first title of “Professor” and his habit of sighing gets worse once again.

Tapping the notification, he sees it’s an email from a colleague. His brain doesn’t exactly calculate what he’s reading straight away, though he notices words like “meeting” and “Friday” and “9am” and he gets the picture. It’s probably some stupid meeting with the black-ties of Veritas Prime to discuss funding. Why Kakavasha of all people is always asked to attend is beyond him, but that is sort of a part of his job role as the Golden Boy of the Intelligentsia Guild (well, the second Golden Boy. His predecessor abdicated). After sending a quick bog-standard reply, the blonde chucks his phone back on the table, leaning forward with his head in his hands. An exaggerated, anguished groan leaves his throat.

Well, there’s no point staying here and doing nothing. The Sigonian stands and begins to gather his things together. A few piles of independent work from his students are tapped neatly on the table before they go in a folder and into his bag. His phone, laptop, and a few other personal belongings soon follow. At the door, he scans the room to see if he missed anything before clicking the door shut.

On the way to his laboratory, Kakavasha's mind wanders. It doesn't wander anywhere particularly interesting or worthy of note; it simply gyrates from topic to topic in his mind like a plate of food in a microwave. Such is the life of a doctor-scholar-professor or whatever his title is these days. 

The air is bitingly chilly when the doctor steps outside. It's the kind of cold that makes your shoulders tense up and various strings of curses to escape your lips as you murmur “fucking hell it's cold” to yourself. A cloudless evening takes Kakavasha's attention for a moment as he grumbles at the realisation that it won't get any warmer until morning.

In the distance, the charcoal silhouette of the Intelligentsia Guild's headquarters breaks away from the rest of the dark cityscape, the peculiar pyramidal shape sticking out like a sore thumb next to the run-of-the-mill rectangles that make up the rest of the city. Inwardly, the Avgin debates whether or not he should walk the distance to HQ or spend a few (in truth, a lot more than a few) credits on a taxi. The mere thought of spending any more money after already blowing so much on a suit of all things makes Kakavasha feel ill, so he plucks up the courage to put one foot in front of the other and travel by foot.

A distant thought is plucked from the back of the blonde's mind. He could, in all seriousness, simply go home. Kakavasha’s apartment is half the distance from the university than it is to HQ. He longs for something - a bed or a sofa, or even the floor at this point; he's not fussy - to crumple into and fall asleep on. To let the sweet embrace of unconsciousness take him.

How poetic, he thinks with an amused snort. He can’t afford to take a break from his research. To stop now after all his tireless work would result in complacency. He wants his wretched luck gone. He wants to live like what he is: a human. He wants to live and die as one. His luck acts as an impenetrable barrier to living like a human. He should have died on Sigonia-IV in that vile desert he called home in the arms of his sister. But he didn’t. Because of his luck. And he hasn’t seen himself as human since. 

Hmph. What a way to bring the mood down.

Back in his body, he trudges along at a pace that lies between brisk and leisurely as his destination looms closer. He approaches a gridlocked main road. A chaotic four-way junction results in the annoyance of many drivers as heard by the incessant beeping of their car horns. Ahead of him, several irate pedestrians stand on the edge of the pavement. They wait impatiently, a few of the particularly annoyed even tap their foot on the cement below them as if trying to step on an invisible button that would make the lights change colours faster. This junction is notorious for its inconsistent traffic system. There are even moments when all four traffic lights for their respective roads are green at the same time, resulting in complete chaos.

However, the second Kakavasha steps up to the traffic lights, green promptly turns to red and the pedestrians around him breathe a collective sigh of relief. A particularly portly businessman beside the scholar takes notice of his approach and chortles in an ugly manner.

“Oh, aren’t you lucky? Be glad you didn’t have to wait for these blasted lights to change.” Kakavasha, unsure on how to respond, nods and stays silent. That always happens: the blonde cannot remember a time when he had to wait for a traffic light to turn red. Such is the life of a lucky man. His pace quickens as he crosses the street and quickens further once he realises the aged businessman wishes to continue his one-sided conversation.

6:04pm - Wednesday

It takes utter discipline and pure strength of will not to put his back to the wall and sink to the floor once Kakavasha arrives at the Intelligentsia Guild’s HQ. Perhaps it was the freezing temperatures or the sun deciding to hide away under the horizon that made his journey here seem so long, but the scholar feels as if he’s just walked a marathon. 

Headquarters is still busy despite the time of day. Men and women of science flit past him in a whirl of white lab coats, clipboards, and briefcases. He waves somewhat half-heartedly to the receptionist as he weaves through the crowd. Kakavasha hunts through the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieves his lanyard, tapping it on a scanner at the elevator. As if on cue, the lift lands on the ground floor and out comes a stream of scientists and scholars. A few dip their heads in his general direction in a gesture of recognition, and he returns them all with a professional nod. Once the cramped space is clear, he steps in and taps 67: the floor number of his laboratory. 

He swears this stupid elevator stops on every second floor. At this point it’d be easier to take the stairs. The Avgin genuinely debates stepping off and doing such a thing for a good two minutes or so until his thoughts are interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. His head twists to the right to see a squirrel-like woman with a tattered notebook and a pen in hand. 

She clears her throat nervously. “Uhm, you're Dr. Kakavasha, right?” she asks, pushing a pair of circular glasses up her nose.

The Sigonian’s features remain neutral. “The very same,” he replies. “Do you need something from me?”

“Er- forgive me. This isn’t very professional of me, but could I, uh- could I get your- erm-.”

Kakavasha decides to take pity on the woman. “Are you asking for my autograph?” 

“Yes please,” she squeaks, her skin turning a bright pink as she hands him the notebook and pen. 

“Do you want it on any specific page or does it not matter?” he questions in a monotone manner as he flicks the book open. In the back of his mind he knows he’s being incredibly blunt and potentially rude. He’s usually more friendly when speaking to his admirers, though after such a long day, he can’t find it within himself to be amiable to anyone.

The woman swallows in a comedic fashion. “Uh, no! Anywhere is fine.”

He nods and scribbles his signature on a random page. The ink dries up slightly in the middle of it, so it looks a little skewed and messy, though neither of them comment on it. He hands the notebook and pen back to the woman.

“Ah, thanks so much! My son is a big fan of yours. He’ll love this,” she smiles. 

Kakavasha nods. “I’m glad.” The woman dips her head in response, before promptly realising she’s reached her floor and waving goodbye to the doctor as she exits.

By the grace of whichever Aeon has decided to look down on Kakavasha today, he arrives at his own floor quickly afterwards. He reaches his personal laboratory promptly and plops himself on the stool by the desk. On it lies his computer monitor, a microscope, a few packets of sterilised needles, and some sanitary wipes; as well as a few scattered papers in various states of comprehension after countless experiments that lasted long after burning the midnight oil.

The blonde turns his computer on and opens up his research notes. Lines and lines of typed words concerning previous experiments, methodologies, and plans pop up. Clicking a tab at the top of the screen, he reads: “Experiment Progression”.

Date: TUE xx/xx/xxxx

Experiment No: #482

Aim(s): 

To discover the recessive “luck” alleles in subject’s genotypes by recreating specific DNA sequencing in a sterile environment.

To discover a way to destroy or alter the recessive “luck” allele without harming surrounding DNA helixes and/or sequences.

Method (UPDATED): 

Extract blood from subject and separate plasma from blood cells via separation centrifuge.

Examine plasma DNA helixes via microvolume spectrophotometre and absorbance microplate reader to single out correct allele.

Find out a way to recreate or duplicate DNA samples under lab conditions.

Find a way to destroy or alter specific alleles under lab conditions.

Recreate experiments on a larger scale to create cure.

Administer cure to subject.

Notes: In experiments #439 to #481, it was eventually discovered through testing that the recessive “luck” allele is found in the blood plasma DNA of subject. As such, further extraction and experimentation of subject’s blood plasma is required to continue research and development of cure.

Below these notes are audio recordings. Most simply act as an instrument Kakavasha used to get his thoughts and hypotheses on record without having to put it into written word. Others have his blunt opinions and irritated ramblings. Unfortunately for present-day Kakavasha, past Kakavasha didn’t have the foresight to label which ones were which, so he’s going in blind. He brings the cursor to one of the recordings and clicks play. The sound of his own tinny voice makes its way to his ears.

“This is… a breakthrough. An annoying breakthrough, but a breakthrough nonetheless. I had hoped that the specific DNA genotypes that caused my overt luckiness would be in something more easily collected, like bone marrow or skin tissue, but no. I'm going to have to extract a lot of my blood for this. It wouldn't be a major problem if it weren’t for my inherent-” a pause, as if he was mulling over which word to use, “eh- distaste for needles, but so be it. 

There is a rustling of what sounds like paper in the background for a few seconds before he speaks again.

“I managed to call in a favour with Hu Xu next door to borrow his separation centrifuge. With it, it'll be a lot easier to separate my blood plasma from my blood cells. Singling out specific DNA genetic sequences is going to require more complex machinery and will be difficult to acquire, but I’m sure I can pull some strings and flutter my eyelashes and manage it. I fear that means I’m going to have to speak to,” an almost comical, audible shudder is heard, “ugh- Sharon, but I suppose suffering through her – oh what’s the word – bleating is a necessary evil. In experiment #483, I need to extract a few vials of blood and separate the blood plasma before putting them in adequate storage so nothing is damaged. I’d like to give a formal apology to the future-me who has to deal with that.” 

With that, the recording ends and Kakavasha throws some Sigonian slurs at his computer screen under his breath. Great Gaiathra Triclops, why was yesterday’s version of himself such an asshole? He grumbles and pushes himself up from his chair to grasp the packets of sterile needles on the other side of his desk. 

This is going to be a long night.

–

00:04am - Thursday

Date: WED xx/xx/xxxx

Experiment No: #483

Aim(s): See previous experiment. [LINK]

Method: See previous experiment. [LINK]

Notes: Following on from experiment #482, two dozen (24) vials of subject’s blood have been extracted and blood plasma has been separated via centrifuge. Plasma samples now safely stored in a cryo-fridge for future testing. 

When the recording plays, Kakavasha’s voice sounds fatigued and a little jumbled.

“Hm, the plasma samples have been collected and put into- er- storage. I may have gone a little overboard, but I need as many viable sources of my own plasma as possible. Nearly 500 experiments have come and gone, and I am bar-” his voice slurs together. “Ahem- excuse that- I am barely any closer to the end goal from when I… from when I began.”

Quiet follows for a peculiarly long time. Two minutes go by in utter silence. If an outsider were to listen to it, they’d think the recording ended.

After this prolonged silence, a weak voice sounds out.

“I’m getting desperate.”

--

Definitions: Allele - Two or more versions of a DNA sequences that make up your genetic makeup. You get them from your parents and can be recessive or dominant. Genotype - The genetic constitution of an organism Separation centrifuge - Basically a machine that spins around super fast and separates substances based on their different properties using centrifugal force Microvolume Spectrophotometre - Something used to examine DNA Absorbance Microplate Reader - Something used to examine DNA

[loonybun]

Check Up

hi. guess who wrote. aren’t you proud. anyways these are like. my favorite ocs. if you’ve known me for very long you know i will never shut up about them ever and have character blogs because god they’re in my brain constantly

contains: med whump/lab whump (not sure which this would classify as. sort of in the middle there.), creepy/intimate carewhumper, doctor whumper, does vian deserve his own mention here yeah he’s a warning all by himself, condescension, restraints, recapture, former living weapon whumpee, magical/sci-fi setting, references to addition and drugs, mentions of brainwashing and memory erasure, betrayal, needles, implied self harm, self harm being weaponized.

i think that’s all but let me know if i’m missing something. this one’s a bit of a doozey. fun for the whole family.

——————————————————

“You look like you slept well.”

He was barely even awake. The room felt like it was spinning, the all too familiar fluorescent lights inducing a dizzying nausea.

The shock of the cold metal on his back forced him into reality. Shit. This was happening. There wasn’t any way out of it. Not an obvious one, anyways.

Koi’s eyes drifted back over to the doctor, who greeted him with a soft smile. Right. Why was he here? Why didn’t he have—

“I took off that little cuff of yours, hopefully you don’t mind. I’ll probably have to answer for that later, but oh well. I figured you’d want to enjoy your last few moments of lucidity.” He murmured, pity crossing his face. “I know you’re not really capable of what they think you are. Poor thing. They think you’re a killing machine! A terrorist! It’s a little funny, actually. I mean, you’re…”

His eyes trailed over Koi for a brief moment. “…Harmless. Completely harmless like this.”

“—I mean, I’m not a big fan of killing people. Kind of why I was trying to avoid this place.”

“Yes, yes, and that’s exactly my point. I guess capable isn’t the right word, is it? I mean, you’ve done it before. I suppose what I’m trying to insinuate is that you’re just unfit to be the monster they’re going to try to break you into.” The doctor hummed, gently ruffling his hair.

“…It’s nice to see you again, by the way. I really did miss you. I know we were never close, but— You were always one of my favorites.”

Koi scoffed. “Enough of a favorite to let out of these restraints? C’mon, it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“…You know I can’t, Koi.”

“…Right.” He went quiet for a moment, letting the air grow heavy. Well, might as well rip the bandaid off. “So uh… What are they gonna do?”

And just like that, he was back to his giddy state. “Oh— Yes, I forgot, you like it when I explain these things.”

“You’re uh, not annoyed by it, right? I know a lot of the scientists were and uh—“

“No, no! Not at all. I appreciate your enthusiasm. I always have. People here are just so incredibly impatient.”

“…Oh, uh, thanks. Alright, then yeah, give me the rundown.” Koi already had a good idea about what was going to happen next. They’d throw him in a nice, big cell, give him the whole “You have a purpose here” spiel, and then keep him in there until he either gave in or escaped— not like the former would ever happen.

Vian’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he began to explain. “Well, you see, we figured that since you’re going to be here for a while, we might as well work out that little… Issue… With your magic.”

“And then they’ll expect me to join ‘em again?”

“…Well— Actually, you won’t have much of a say in the matter. They’re planning on wiping your memories. It’ll be like your little runaway incident never happened. You won’t remember the experiments either, of course. None of those silly traumatic things.”

Shit.

“Until then, I’m supposed to keep you hooked up to an IV containing a drug I’ve developed. Just something to keep your mind in more of an agreeable state. You won’t lose your ability to think, of course, you’ll just… Struggle with comprehending those thoughts. I like to say it’s like water slipping through cracks— Nicer imagery leads to a much less stressful experience.” Vian smiled cheerfully, giving Koi a little pat on the head.

He felt sick. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. “—Wait, wait, wait. Can’t we talk this out? I mean— You don’t really want me to lose my memory, right?— What about— What about my friends? My life?”

At that, the doctor chuckled. “Koi, we should really move on with the examination. I have a job to do… Maybe if you’re good, we can talk a little more about your options afterwards.”

Despite the bile in his throat, Koi nodded. Maybe there was a chance that the doctor would take pity on him. He just had to get through this.

Vian lifted up the thin sleeve of his hospital gown, staring down his arm while he fixed a cuff on his shoulder.

“…Now, I know we didn’t give those to you.”

“What?”

“Those scars.” Vian traced a cold finger along one of the countless cuts lined over the withered skin. “Those are new. Lined up so poorly as well. Goodness, you really haven’t been doing well for yourself, have you?”

Koi shot him a small glare that quickly faded into something a little more pitiful. He had to remember what was at risk if he fucked this up.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? Apparently having a guilty conscience has consequences.”

The doctor’s eyes flickered with mild amusement. It was an unsettling look on him.

“We both know that’s not what this is.”

“Didn’t you say you had a job to do?”

The pressure on his arm began to increase, then released all at once. The cuff went off just as quickly as it had been strapped on. Vian stared at the readings for a brief moment, then looked back at his patient.

“And who are you to say that a wellness check wouldn’t be part of it? I won’t tell, I promise. Now, you were always good with needles. Are you alright if I draw some blood?”

Koi nodded hesitantly. It would be better not to argue with the only person who might be willing to lend a hand to him. He wasn’t that stupid. It’s not like he had many other options.

The needle sank into his skin, and he reflexively let go of the tension in his body. He could have sworn he saw Vian smile at that.

“Good. You’ve always so good with these things. I believe that’s most of what I needed— We’ll do a drug test too, just to be sure. You’d be surprised hearing all of the rumors some of the scouts have come up with about you. Meaningless gossip, really. They claim you’re some worthless street junkie now.” Vian hummed, brushing Koi’s bangs out of his face. “Then again, I wouldn’t be totally surprised. You’ve been hung out to dry. We can lose ourselves, sometimes.”

He couldn’t help but lean into the soft touch. If it weren’t for the backhanded conversation, he probably would have felt genuinely relaxed.

“Yeah, right. I’ve totally got the spare change to shell out for that.”

“Mhm... Like I said, meaningless gossip.”

He needed to break the silence in the air. He could practically feel Vian’s gaze on him. Cold and scrutinizing. “Well, uh, is that all you needed me for?”

“Oh— Yes, we should be done for now. You said you wanted to talk about your options, didn’t you? This would also be a decent time to ask me any extra questions.” The doctor snapped his eyes back to focus, a smile quickly reappearing on his face.

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds good. Uh, so is there any way I can convince you to help me? I mean, I know we were never friends, but—“

“You’d like to be. I know.” He didn’t even let him finish. “You mentioned that once. It stuck with me for a while… I think I’d like that too. You’re one of the few people I can actually tolerate here.”

“So uh… You’re willing to get me outta here?”

Vian’s eyes narrowed, and his grin faltered. “…Well—“

“Well what?” He snapped.

“You don't really have options here, Koi. Let’s just think about this for a moment. I could let you go right now, send you on your way back home… And for what? For you to be miserable the rest of your life? To keep this up?” He gestured towards the lines across his arm. “You lived in a rotting shed. If anything, keeping you here is a favor.”

His blood ran cold.

“You can’t be fucking serious— Vian, please— I… I can’t stay here. They’re gonna make me hurt people. I can’t do that again.”

Vian’s sympathetic expression was looking faker by the minute. He ruffled his hair, earning him a desperate expression. “…Oh, yes you can. The war’s been over for quite some time. It’s not like you’d be used very often anyways. Don’t you want to feel like a hero again? Didn’t you like that?”

Koi began struggling against the metal bands holding him down to the table, desperately thrashing back and forth. “I— I won’t forgive you if you do this. You know that, right?! Didn’t you say you wanted to be friends?”

“I did. And I still mean it. You’ll soon find that you won’t remember any of this, and you’ll be more than happy to spend time with me.” He hummed. “Let’s be honest, sending you back would be plainly unethical! It’d go against my oath. You’d have a fresh start here… There’s really not a downside.”

“Stop— Please—“

“…I think it’s about time to hook you up to that IV. Thank you for your time, though. I can’t wait to get to know each other all over again.”

[whatiswhump]

Test subject gets injected with something new everyday.

It hurts each time, it hurts A LOT actually, but they’ve realized they can take the momentary pain. They get held down, they jerk involuntarily, hopefully they don’t scream and it’s over in seconds.

… the problem is what comes afterward…

Each vial of anguish has its own set of side effects that the scientists catalogue to the minutest detail.

The burning hives breaking out, their throat closing without warning, red and dark marks icily tracing their veins, world shifting vertigo, amnesia, temporary paralyzation.. each day is a surprise and Whumpee still doesn’t know what these tests are meant to achieve.

All they know is when the side effects come, and they always do, the pens scratch into notepads and their begging behind the glass does nothing to alleviate the horror.

[explodcor]

Katsuki took a few more steps into the room when Shouto sat up in the hospital bed. He tried to take another step but winced when the IV needle pinched painfully in his arm. Well, shit. This was as far as he could make it, huh?

"Shouto..." he began awkwardly. "I'm kinda hooked onto an IV drip, so I can't really make it to your bed..." He glanced around for a chair. Shit. It was out of reach.

He looked back at his boyfriend and noticed the tears pooling in the other teen's eyes. The sight made his chest ache even more than it already was. Shouto didn't look much better than him. His boyfriend was covered from head to toe in bandages, most likely from burns. "O-oi, d-don't start that shit--!" he croaked out before he felt his own eyes start to sting.

Goddammit--!

He let out a shuddery breath and raised his hand to scrub at his eyes before more tears could spill over. "I-I'll be okay, alright...?"

Honestly, Shoto didn't really know what he expected when he finally woke up again with the familiar sound of the heart monitor beeping right next to him. His whole body felt sore, the same kinda sore he felt after too much training just worse. Well, it made sense in his head so he settled with that explanation. It took him several hours to fully wake up and fight the urge to go back to sleep right away again.

He was fine, mostly, even if he didn't remember most of the things that happened before he got here. They had done it, somehow. He knew that much. The others were banged up pretty badly as well. He could only hope that they all made it but he didn't allow himself to think of the what ifs right now. A few hours after waking up Shoto already sat upright in his bed. The doctor said he was almost good to go, sure 90% or his body, inside and out, had suffered burns that ranged from mild to severe and he was wrapped in bandages from head to toe but it could be worse, right? He was used to it already and due to some unthinkable miracle most of it was healing rather effortlessly. He knew he had more luck than anything else and it seemed like his body had developed some incredible durability. Well, thinking about the people he considered more or less close to him...He didn't expect anyone to come and see him. He hadn't seen anyone yet. Or maybe he just didn't want to see them. Most of them, at least. But that on the other hand reminded him of who he wanted to see but felt to scared to ask the hospital staff about. The only person he really wanted to see-

Shoto looked up when the door opened again and his heart sunk in his chest and pounding on his eardrums instead, so much so that it almost gave him a headache and for a moment he forgot how to breathe... Katsuki… Before he knew it his eyes were burning with all the unshed tears he had bottled up over the last couple days because he just couldn't have them. He hadn't been ready to face everything that had brewed up in his chest and seeing the most important person in his life like this, looking so broken and yet so god damn stubborn...

Shoto threw the blanket aside and did his best to move his legs over the edge of the bed, half dragging them there with his hands as they just wouldn't move the way he wanted them to on their own, grunting as he tried to push himself up, even if it hurt. "K-katsuki.." Shoto croaked, his voice not yet fully recovered yet. Even his insides had suffered from the over-usage of his quirk and even blinking hurt, the tears burning on his skin but he really, really didn't care.

[loz-the-noob]

Had a big ol blood test the other day and Puzzle came along too! He waited in the car but he was very helpful after :3

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Was going to get my wisdom teeth out and they went to stick a needle in my arm which apparently was the anesthesia? But it wasn’t working fast enough for the staff so they sent me home and said to come back when it started working.

[tea-and-secrets]

i am convinced i have low iron deficiency. i get wildly dizzy when i stand and have fallen over twice now, on the verge of blacking out. i want to get tested for it, but there are two problems.

my mom, who has decided that i'm simply not drinking enough water and getting enough exercise. i drink an alright amount of water, but not the recommended eight cups a day. i don't get much exercise, so i assume she could be right on that part?

i'm horrified of needles. absolutely completely batshit terrified of them. i won't go near them. my mom's yelled at me plenty enough for not wanting shots, and i've gotten grounded more times than i can count for panicking about needles. they had to hold me down once when i was five and i got totally yelled at after that. if i had to get a needle stuck in me for a long period of time to get my blood drawn (which i am also scared of) i will completely freak out.

.

[arya-skywalker]

First off, the new sanders sides was amazing and fun and I loved it!

Second, I have a new headcanon: Remus does needle-felting.

Mr Fuzzy looks like it could have been at least partially made through that, and Remus would absolutely love an art form that involves repeatedly stabbing something with barbed needles.

[uncanny-tranny]

When you're given the needles for injection HRT, you might be given two sizes for needles, or two sets.

A draw-up needle is what you will use to draw up the medicine into your syringe, and often you will use the larger of the needles in order to draw up the medicine if you're given two differently-sized gauged needles. When I first started testosterone, I was given a set of 18G needles and 20G needles, so I would use the 18G to draw up and the 20G to administer the medicine.

Remember that a SMALLER number is a LARGER needle, and a LARGER number is a SMALLER needle. An 18G needle is LARGER than a 20G needle, and so on. If you need clarification about injection, ask whomever is prescribing your medication to clarify which needles are intended for draw-ups and which will be administered into the body.

This might seem pretty arbitrary, but a smaller-gauged needle will feel differently than a larger needle. Now, I inject with a 23G needle, and I barely feel it compared to a 20G, and that can make it so much easier to take your medicine.

I wanted to make this post because I have seen many people have misconceptions about how an injection is supposed to hurt, and part of what can make an injection painful is the needle you are using.

[dandysworldhcs]

Tem back at it again with the strange biology rants

Okok. Warning though because i talk abt a bit of gore and grossness, also mentions of needle injections, and also death. If you dont wanna hear abt organs then you dont need to post this ask, idrm!!/gen

Toons, when being created, were based off of humans in terms of biology. Of course, their heads would be objects, but the neck down would be relatively the same. At least, until they dumbed it down for the appeal of the child audience

- their mouths are the same. Teeth, tongue, esophagus. They still produce spit. They don't lose teeth, however. They might get tonsil stones.

- They lack noses, yet still breathe? I like to think its "just the art style" but it makes no sense. Either give them noses, or let the ichor they're made out of breathe. Imagine breathing skin, thats weird! This would also mean they cant produce snot, which is weird.

- Their bodies are simple. They have fingers that seem to come and go as they please. Like are only there when its convenient. Pretty weird.

- They lack organs. They lack bones! Their bodies are just hardened (to a degree), purified ichor. When cut open, they bleed, of course, but you wont see any muscle, or bone, or veins. Its just ichor. Its freaky as hell

- Ichor is a corrosive substance, which is why raw ichor is so dangerous. Its also why twisteds are the way they are. Its a ichor overdosage.

- and since ichor is a corrosive substance, theres no need for the standard human waste track. As a way to make the toons as non-sexual as possible, they reworked their systems, practically removing anything past the stomach. The urinary and reproductive tracks were removed; everything ends at the stomach. The ichor will simply dissolve any humanly edible substance into energy to replicate and reproduce ichor cells. Anything deemed inedible (metal, plastic, basically anything humans cant eat), can only go one way out, by vomitting. They get belly aches if they can't vomit it up, and it needs to be forced out via triggering the gag reflex. The amount of times Sprout likely had to have a toon cough something up because they ate something bad is likely too many times to count.

- i will say they do have lungs. Works like human lungs. Can get infected. They technically dont need hearts, as they lack veins or blood to circulate oxygen through their system. If they did, theyd need it to keep ichor production abd ichor reproduction going.

- Toons were always capable of aging, but then why havent we seen anyone really grow *old*? Well, its in their food. The food at Gardenview, specifically the kind used for toon consumption, has ichor in it. A small amount, yes, but they eat so much to where they dont even notice it. Fresh ichor being out into their bodies means they can retain their young form. Its why Toodles will never physically age. With physical age, mental age qlso comes with it. She will stay around 8 forever due to this.

- BECAUSE of this, if a toon were to ween off of the food at Gardenview, and stick with strict human diet, at first, nothing would happen. Jts just that fresh new ichor isnt being put into their bodies (an alternative is shots, but i doubt theyd want that. Hell i doubt they even know that ichor is put into their food). But after a while, their ichor forms will begin to grow old, unable to keep a steady flux of new cells, and just begin reusing the old cells. Due to this, the toon will begin to age, similarly to a human. Skin will grow saggy, their object heads differing depending on what they are (as in Boxten's paint will begin to dull, Tisha's cardboard head will weaken, and her tissues thinning. Stuff like that.)

- and eventually... the cells cannot keep regenerating themselves. And their forms cannot retain. And eventually they will return to the raw ichor form, becoming a puddle on the floor. Rip losers

- they can sweat. Its weird. Do they smell? Maybe. Not every toon showers tho. Some will (shrimpo, finn, teagan, ect), and some use other cleaning methods (flutter, gigi, boxten, ect). Some literally cant (scraps, vee, poppy). Its not like they guys can smell bad...

- they have eye colors because i say so

- they dont have finger nails :( or finger prints. No traction on surfaces theyre gonna slip and fall :(

Ok i think thats it. Sorry i went on a rant my bad. Im not looking back for spelling mistakes

no no, im in love with this. GOD i love biology headcanons.... feed me more......

[the-kr8tor]

Knee Socks

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, bullying, blood, violence, food mentions, fluff.

Main Masterlist

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 3 >>> CHAPTER 4

Hobie converses with his friends, casually leaning on the playground's chain link fence, he's only eleven, that awkward stage where he thinks he's too old to use the slide, but still too young to be taken seriously by the older kids. He's too tall to be just eleven, almost a foot taller than his classmates, always mistaken for someone older, he takes it in stride, becoming his year's resident protector from would be bullies. His sheer height alone makes them stop in their tracks, not to mention his perseverance when the bully decides to fight Hobie, even if they're taller or bigger than him, he doesn't back down despite his lanky form and sometimes nerdy personality, wiping at his bleeding nose, he stands up, knuckles at the ready.

This alone makes Hobie an absolute legend in the playground. He doesn't care about that though, he just does what he thinks is right, and that's protecting those who cannot defend themselves.

The children playing stops in their tracks when a loud shriek rings out, ears perking at the difference of the sound from a happy playing yell. This one sounded like they were in pain, Hobie stomps towards the sound, the crowd parting for him.

He sees a bigger kid holding a smaller one by his ear, he recognizes the bully from his year, the smaller one seems like a year younger than him. The crowd around them gets bigger, some kids would be hollering for a fight, some could only watch. Before Hobie could run up to them, a flash of something pink hits the bully right on his forehead, causing him to let go, crouching and holding the bleeding cut it left behind.

You fearlessly strut up to him, screaming your tiny head off, "fuck off, Terrence!" You pick up the pink sketchbook from the ground, threatening to throw it again.

Hobie's eyes widened at your choice of word, not used to hearing it in the playground, he smirks at your bravery, especially that you're five times smaller than the bully. He watches as you shield the smaller kid from Terrence, book at the ready.

You look over your shoulder to look back at the younger kid on the ground, clutching at the shell of his ear, tears falling on his rosy cheeks. "You okay, Danny?"

With you distracted, Terrence finds the opportunity to grab you by the ankle, losing your balance and swiftly falling on your back, you let out a small pained sound. Hobie had enough of being a bystander, he runs up to the bully, punching him square in his face. Terrence doesn't back down, tackling Hobie, they both fall on the harsh gravel, Hobie shields his face from the oncoming punches while Terrence keeps aiming at his face.

You stand up, no time to dust yourself off, you yell a battle cry, flinging yourself on the bully's back, trying to get him off Hobie. Your small fists thump helplessly on the bigger kid's back. Suddenly the crowd parts, a couple of winded teachers arrive, one yanks you off Terrence, while the other stops him from punching Hobie. They hold you both back, like a couple of kittens trying to claw and scratch at each other.

"Enough!" One of the teachers yells out, Hobie sits up, a cut on his lip. Eyes watching as you don't let up from trying to kick Terrence's ass.

—

You sit on one of the school clinic's cot, an ice pack on your head, the condensation slides over your face, landing on the paper of your mangled sketchbook.

"Little shit" you murmur out, wiping at the water on your precious notebook.

The curtains separating the beds flings open, you jump from the sound of metal.

"Y'know you could get in trouble for that" Hobie looks at you, a similar ice pack over his cheek. He sits criss crossed on the bed, blanket pooling around him.

"You would know, of course" the previous anger still lingers, your usual shyness gone from your system.

"So you've heard of me?" He raises his brow, hissing when he moves it.

"Who hasn't heard of you? Here" you toss your ice pack over to his cot, "you look like you need it more" Hobie fumbles a bit before he finally catches it. He looks back at you, your face scrunched up in anger, brows knitted together, you look at the pink notebook like it'll spontaneously combust right in front of you.

"You look like Gromit, when you're mad" he brings your previous ice pack to his brow, the other held up to his cheek. "Y'know when he scrunches his face" you look at him angrily "like that!" He points out.

"Hey! You want a piece of me too?" It sounded much braver in your head, but with the fading adrenaline and anger, your shyness peeks back in, making your sentence sound meek.

Hobie holds up his hands, dropping the ice packs on the bed "nah, I can't fight you"

"Why? Just because I'm a girl?"

"Nope, I saw what you did to big Terry, thought you gave him brain damage" he pokes his temples. "I don't want that notebook flying at me, especially with that aim of yours"

"Fucker already has brain damage" you say softly, your shyness definitely creeping in, but you're still angry enough to swear.

"Where'd you learn to curse like that? You don't look like someone who swears"

"The telly" you shrug.

"That shit ain't good for you"

"You sound like an adult," you scrunch your nose "they always tell me I swear a lot when I'm mad. You swear too, y'know"

"I'm allowed" Hobie leans back, grinning.

"How are you allowed?" you ask, genuinely curious. Why is he allowed and you're not?

"I'm older" he says matter-of-fact.

"You're only a year older than me" you scoff, wincing when a sharp pain hits the back of your head.

Hobie hops down from the bed, quickly grabbing the ice packs. He moves towards you, sitting down, your sketchbook in the middle between you. He hands you the ice pack back, you give him a small thanks, hissing when the cold hits your skin.

"You alright? D'you want me to get the nurse?" He asks you as if he wasn't injured himself, looking worse than you.

"I'm fine, you look worse than me though"

"You draw?" Hobie doesn't acknowledge your last comment. He tries to take a peek at the pages, you clamp the book shut with lightning speed.

"I'm not showing you my sketchbook"

"Why not?"

"It's private! And I don't know you"

"Well, name's Hobie Brown" he extends his hand towards you "and you areee? Then you tell me your name, That's how this usually goes"

You narrow your eyes, "I know who you are" slapping his hand away but you tell him your name anyway, trying to be the polite one "Y/N, it's Y/N Y/L/N"

"Now we know each other, now can I?" His hand hovers over your notebook. "Damn, this looks like it's been trampled"

"Fucking Terrence" you seethe, sliding the book over to him. "Here"

"Fucking Terrence" Hobie smiles as he flips through your sketches.

—

Your mind goes back to the present when your familiar mug lands on your messy table, the content sloshes a bit to the sides.

"Careful!" You hold the mug, stopping its motion.

"Shit, sorry. You looked like Gromit there for a second" he chuckles, sitting down on your bed, a piece of biscuit in his mouth, the springs squeaking under his weight.

"Augh, you trying to bring back that nickname?" You take a sip, the warmth of the tea relaxes the aching muscles of your hand.

"It's always been there, Gromit" he lays down, swallowing the cookie, his chucks still on his feet.

You stand up immediately, cringing when his soles graze your bedsheets, grabbing his shoes off your bed "shoes off!" You struggle as Hobie watches on with a smirk "fuckin' take it off!"

"You're mad mad" he sits up, unlacing his shoes.

You put your hands on your hips, socked feet tapping impatiently. Hobie flings his shoes off, looking smugly at your annoyed face. He lays down, arms behind his head.

You narrow your eyes at him "awwe, are you tired?" You asked sarcastically.

"Yes, talking to you the entire day is tiring"

"You're not the one designing this thing" you gesture towards your table that's littered with crumpled papers, various designs pinned on your corkboard. Your hand cramps at the thought of drawing another line.

"Giving my opinion is tiring, why don't you rest for a bit, you're obviously knackered" he taps the space beside him. It wouldn't be the first time you've shared a bed, it's impossible that you haven't, being that you've been best friends for ten years. But you're still unsure, knowing that when you lie down (especially next to him) you won't get back to work again. But it doesn't mean that your heart doesn't skip a beat whenever you do share a bed, it practically stops in your chest until you two wake up.

Hobie sees your dilemma, knowing you wouldn't be able to work on your designs if you lie down next to him. "Come sit down at least" he finds a middle ground.

You sigh, surrendering, as long as you don't rest your head on your pillow you'll be fine, right? Sitting down, Hobie's legs props you up, preventing you from laying down completely.

You hum, leaning your entire weight over his legs, you can feel the rough material of his jeans on your back, your jumper doesn't provide much barrier from his warmth.

"Don't fall asleep" Hobie pokes your arm.

"Hard to when your bony legs are stabbing my back"

He moves his legs back, you fall halfway, head almost landing on his knees. You smack his arm playfully. Hobie predicts that you'll slap his chest next, he moves his arm shield himself. Lo and behold, that's where you hit him next.

"Fuck you, Wallace" despite your swearing, you grin widely, Hobie laughs at his old nickname, he keeps dodging your attacks, Hobie parries your hand, stopping it mid air. He holds your wrists in front of him, warm fingers wrap bracelets around them.

He laughs victoriously "who you callin' Wallace? Do I look like I'm bald?"

You try to get his grip off your wrist, pulling, but his grip is too strong–it doesn't hurt, it's the opposite actually, his grip on you provides comfort and stability. A laugh escapes you "you smile like him" he says it with you, copying your voice mockingly, already knowing that you'll say those exact words.

You roll your eyes, trying and failing to take your hands back, Hobie pulls you in, making you lean over his chest, your heart immediately jumping at the close proximity of his face from yours. Hobie didn't think this through enough, now he doesn't know what to do next. You both pause on your play fighting.

He watches your reaction, your lips slightly parted, pupils blown out. You do the same, cataloging every line on his face, eyes finding the familiar color of his iris, the late afternoon sun gleaming on his lip piercing. You quickly move your eyes back to his, realizing you've been staring at his lips, you swallow down your fear. You lay on top of him, frozen.

You exhale, breath fanning his face, your pulse thumping hard against Hobie's hand. He loosens his grip on your wrists, giving you time to pull away, but you don't so he slides his hands from your wrists over to your hands, fingers stopping at your clammy palms.

Hobie raises his head slowly to meet yours, his heart uncharacteristically beating hard on his chest. He realizes that his heart only acts this way around you. He can feel the dam straining against the overflowing water.

Knock

The sound breaks you both out of your daze, pushing away from each other, you avoid Hobie's gaze. While he looks at you longingly, chest heaving at what almost transpired.

Knock

You try to act nonchalantly, clearing your throat "yeah?"

"It's almost six! Get your visitor out" the dorm's RA yells out like a warden.

"Yeah, okay!" You give her a thumbs up, as if she can see you through the door. Hobie notices your awkwardness, taking it upon himself to break the awkward feeling.

"She doesn't have x-ray vision" He stops himself from touching your arm, hand landing back to his side.

You scoff, heat slowly leaving your cheeks "c'mon time to go home" you stand up, refraining from tapping his chest.

"We're not done yet" he sits up by his elbows, eyes following you gathering his stuff like a one night stand trying to get him out of your place.

You sigh "I don't think we can finish this today, Hobs" you say defeatedly "I mean look" you take a pinned sketch, showing it to Hobie. You both act like nothing happened, used to the almosts.

He looks at your sketch of him, drawn like a runway model, your design looks good, for him at least. Already sure whatever you make for him will be amazing. But judging from your pout he guesses it's not good enough for you.

"It looks good" he reassures you, "what's wrong with it?"

You drop his shoes back on the floor, stepping over it to sit back down on the bed. You hold the paper gingerly, noting every single line you've drawn. "There's something missing, it– I don't know" you groan.

"Make me understand then, they all look good enough for me" he gestures at your designs on the corkboard "I like the one with red on it"

"They all have a touch of red" you roll your eyes, "I don't know, they just– they have more Hobie in them, than of me y'know?"

He nods "yeah, I can see it, you need more bits of you in it"

"Mm-hmm, it's supposed to be a perfect blend of us both" you cross the barrier that you've put up between him, leaning your head on his chest.

"Yeah, it's like if we had a kid and they ended up lookin' like a clone of me" he looks at you teasingly, a smirk curling on his lips.

"Again, weird analogy, Hobs" you huff out.

He chuckles "D'you wanna rest or continue this at my place?" Hobie covers the top of your head with his palm, blanketing your scalp in his warmth.

Thinking for a second, you want to rest, but on the other hand, you need to keep working, you never know when both of your schedules will clear up, this is one of those rare times.

The loud knock echoes again, "your place, then" you look at him, cheek laying on his chest, hearing how his heart beats against your ear.

Hobie smiles, more than happy to spend more time with you.

—

You stop by a convenience store on the way to his place. The harsh white lights make you squint until your eyes adjust. Hobie grabs a basket, handing it to you.

"Such a gentleman" sarcasm dripping on your lips.

He walks backwards, winking at you, hands in his jean pockets. Hobie beelines for the frozen aisle, his chucks sliding against the tiled floor.

You sigh, already knowing what he'll grab. You take a couple of crisps, Hobie's favourite and yours. You bend down to grab a packet of biscuits, hearing a tinkling sound on your left, your eyebrows knit in confusion at the peeking green sock puppet.

"Hello there" You ask, thinking there's a kid playing around. You stand up, the small basket almost full.

"Hi" the puppet's mouth moves, but Hobie's voice comes out, you laugh at how he tried to hide his voice by making it higher pitched.

"Hobie, where'd you even get that?" You say in between airy laughs. You can't see where he is, Hobie's body is hidden behind a display of oatmeal, but you can clearly see his metal bracelet peeking out from under the puppet.

"Name's not Hobie, it's y/n, and I have a passion for fashion" the puppet's mouth moves dramatically as Hobie speaks.

You giggle at his antics, grabbing the puppet by its 'throat' "ack!" Hobie acts like he's choking. He moves in your line of sight, still making choking noises. The cashier looks at you weirdly, releasing your hand from the puppet.

You keep laughing, Hobie's smiles victoriously, getting the desired reaction from you. You clutch your hand over your stomach, heaving from laughing.

"You done?" Hobie is still speaking through the puppet, his throat aching from making his voice higher.

"Yep, you can stop making that voice" you smile, playing with the little bell strapped on the puppet, it rings softly at your touch.

"Thank fuck," Hobie clears his throat, speaking in his normal deep voice "they're selling these over there" he points to his right, using the puppet to point at it.

You see the bright display of different sock puppets, the bold letters reading 'all proceeds go to the children's hospital'

"It's cute, what even is it?"

Hobie moves the puppet from side to side, little yellow spikes on its head, a long tongue lolling on the side of its mouth. "I think it's supposed to be a dinosaur"

"Looks like it, but its tongue is too long to be a dinosaur, maybe it's a lizard?" You look at Hobie questioningly.

"Don't look at me, I don't know either" he shrugs.

"Whatever it is let's take it, he's kind of adorable, in a weird looking way" you take it from his hand, putting it inside your basket.

"Just like you" Hobie quips.

"Funny" you poke his chest. "You got the frozen pizza?"

"Nah, got distracted" Hobie walks towards the freezers, you follow closely behind, he flings the door open. You peek under his raised arm resting on the freezer door, looking at your choices.

"Four cheeses? Or overload?" You ask.

"You want me to shit myself?"

You giggle "right, lactose intolerant, forgot for a sec, overload it is. Thought you have lactaid?"

Hobie takes the frozen pizza box, bringing it to your cheeks, you jump away when the cold box hits your skin. "I ran out of it"

"Ass" you scoff, wiping away the condensation.

He laughs from his belly, putting the box inside the basket. Hobie grabs the heavy basket from you, happily giving it to him. He makes his way towards the cashier, you quickly grab a couple of canned soda from the freezer, catching up to Hobie.

The cashier gives you an annoyed look, probably because of the noises you two made. You look at him apologetically as he scans the items.

—

You arrive at his place, slightly shivering from the cold air that pricked you while in the back of Hobie's motorcycle. He gets off first, helping you with a steady hand.

"Remind me to bring a proper jacket next time we ride this late. Christ alive it's bloody freezing" you rub your arms, trying to get warm, your thin jacket isn't helping much to shield you from the cold.

Hobie takes off his leather jacket despite being only a few feet away from his place, he drapes it on you since your hands are full with the plastic bag of food. He holds your hands together breathing hot air into it, your heart swells at the small act.

"Why didn't you tell me you were cold? I could've stopped for a bit and handed you my jacket, you idiot" he grumbles out, still rubbing your hands warm.

"It was a short ride, Hobs. Besides we're here already you don't need to do this"

"Inside isn't any better, radiator's fucked since yesterday" he brings your hands to his mouth, blowing more warm air into your cold hands.

"Just my luck" your breathing stutters in your throat when Hobie looks at you through his lashes, lips dangerously close to your hands. "Let's just go inside, I'm hungry" you pull your hands away, already missing his warmth. Hobie looks at you like you grew a second head.

"Oven still works, right?" You clear your throat.

Hobie takes out his keys, opening the door for you "yeah, gas still works" he sniffs, the cold finally bothering him.

Entering the small house, you can hear the loud sound of the television, bright against the darkness of the modest living room. Ned and James play couch co-op of golden eye. James sees you standing awkwardly by the doorway, not paying attention to the screen, his character dies, making Ned annoyed.

"Come on, bruv! We can't pass this level with you dying every bloody minute" Ned follows James' stare, ending with you standing stiffly in front of the door, too awkward to walk in front of the telly, not wanting to disturb them. Hobie's behind you fumbling with the lock.

"Hi, sorry to drop in" you smile shyly.

Ned slaps the back of James' head "really? You got distracted?" He whisper-shouts, James jumps slightly in his seat, Ned quickly moves his neck to look at you, "It's alright, y/n! Make yourself at home"

"Thanks" you say, smiling sweetly.

"Oi, it's rude to stare" Hobie finally locks the rusty bolt, eyes staring at James.

" 'm not," he defends himself, thick Manchester accent rearing its head. "I was lookin' at the bag, is that pizza?" He acts interested in the contents of your bag.

Hobie side eyes Ned, having a non verbal conversation with him.

"I think there's enough for us four, where's Yuri? I still haven't thanked her for her help" you say.

"She's with her friends," Ned says.

Nodding, you walk towards the kitchen, Hobie not too far behind. "Have you talked to the landlord about the broken radiator, Hobs?"

"Don't need to, we're moving out anyway" Hobie replies nonchalantly, like it's old news to you.

"What?" You drop the plastic bag a little too hard on the counter. "What do you mean you're moving out? Where are you moving?" Fear creeps up to you.

"All of us are moving, actually" James pipes up from the couch, Ned elbows for him to shut up.

Hobie grabs a flyer from the fridge door, showing it to you. "Battle of the bands, our last show before we disband"

"You're gonna disband too?!" You look at Ned sitting on the couch, watching the interaction unfold. He replies for Hobie, seeing he might need some help explaining it to you.

"Sorry y/n, it's true. James and Yuri are off to uni, and I'm moving back to Richmond"

You look at Hobie sadly, knowing he'll be left behind by one of his oldest friends. You're well aware that Hobie doesn't like sticking to one band, moving on to a different team every few years, this doesn't surprise you, but Ned has been one of the few constants in his band, always his chosen bassist, and his oldest friend next to you.

Ned and James start their game again, giving you as much privacy as the small space can provide, trying to not listen to your obvious private conversation, they wish you two could just talk it out inside Hobie's room instead. Or better yet, just kiss about it, saving you both the energy.

Looking up at Hobie, eyes slightly watering at the thought of him being left behind, you'd never even thought of doing that to him. Of course you know he can handle himself, but you can't bear imagining him alone. Or maybe it's because you can't imagine going through life without him, turning out he'll be fine on his own without you. And you're the one who's projecting your fears towards Hobie.

Your lives have been intertwined since childhood, celebrating wins together, laughing and crying at the good and bad. You've been through almost everything together, it's hard to imagine your life before you met him, more so after your lives untangle from each other.

"When's the last gig?" You try to not let your emotions get to you, but your smile doesn't reach your eyes. Hobie sees through your charade, he holds your hand subtly, thumb rubbing circles over your palm.

"It'll be fine, love" I'll be fine, he wanted to say, but he swallows it down, tossing it over to the pile of all the unsaid words he wanted to say to you. "We've been planning it for awhile, just need to find a place and I'm good to go"

"You haven't found a place yet?" completely forgetting there are other people in the room with you, melting into his touch.

"Not yet, y'know me, always putting things off" he tangles his fingers through yours. "Once we win, I'll get enough to rent a place"

"I'll help you find a place" you squeeze his hand, he squeezes back three times.

"You givin' it for free? No need for me to punch out a hole in our card?" He teases you.

You roll your eyes "Don't push it, Hobart. But yes, you don't need to use our card for it" you joke, you would've helped him anyways, card or no card.

"Good, thanks Gromit" he smiles, reluctantly untangling your fingers from his. Hobie hands you the flyer, moving towards the counter to take out the food. With that your previous conversation ends, but your sadness and anxiety for what the future holds still lingers. Everything seems to change too fast, you don't think you're ready for any of it.

You smile softly at the nickname. Reading the contents of the advert– Battle of the bands at Oscorp Museum! your eyes widening when you gloss over the date on it. "Hobie, this concert is happening the day before our show"

"And? It's not on the same day" he takes out the puppet from the plastic.

"Yeah, but won't you be too..tired?" You ask.

Hobie huffs, taking the puppet off the counter, slipping it on your hand, you raise a brow at him "say what you really mean by 'tired' use the puppet to help" he crosses his arms over his chest.

You narrow your eyes, playing along, raising your arm halfway. You speak through the puppet, trying to talk with your mouth closed "won't you be too hungover?"

"There we go!" He claps "Thank you, y/n for the honesty"

"That wasn't me, that was the puppet"

"We have a real ventriloquist here, huh" Hobie takes out the frozen pizza from the box, slipping it inside the oven, he shuts the oven door closed "There won't be any alcohol in the venue, there's nothing to fucking drink"

"Sure" you say, still speaking through the puppet, rolling its head with your hand movements.

James whispers to Ned "they were all sweet to each other a second ago, now they're fighting"

"Reminds you of your parents huh?" Ned whispers back.

"Actually yeah, good eye"

Ned looks at him confused "not a compliment, bruv"

"Huh?"

"Nothin' what's up with the creepy puppet?"

Meanwhile, you continue to bicker with Hobie, the cold not helping with your attitude "You know I'm thinking of naming him Terrence, he looks like a Terry, right?" You make the puppet look at you, making it nod.

"Fuck off, after that Terry?"

"Yeah, we can tell exactly what we mean through Terry then we can both put the blame on him" you make the puppet nervously look at both of you.

"Fuckin' Terrence" Hobie remembers the bully.

"Exactly! Fuckin' Terrence" you both laugh, you don't even remember why you were fighting in the first place.

A/N: Thank you for reading! As always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

[answersfromzestual]

What type of testerone hormone replacement therapy is for you? - Article Comparing T-gel,Cream and Injections.

The two of the most debated forms of testerone hormone therapy are the cream ( T gel) and the injection method. This article goes on in depth on these two methods. It compares their positives and negatives to provide a very in depth perspective so you can make an informed decision on the method that is right for you.

THRT gel or creams a topical (rubbed on your skin) application that contains synthesized testosterone. It's typically formulated with carriers that ensure the optimal absorption of the formula through the skin. The exact compounds vary from brand to brand however the primary ingredient is always testosterone. Once applied onto the skin, the testosterone in the cream is gradually absorbed into the bloodstream. This process mimics your body's natural rhythm of testosterone release, also providing a steady level throughout the day.

THRT injections usually contain testosterone cypionate, testosterone enanthate, or testosterone propionate suspended in an oil. These formulations are designed for intramuscular injection, ensuring that the testosterone is slowly released into the bloodstream over a period of time (can range from one to a few weeks apart) These injections require a prescription in Canada and the US, but can also be available at clinics both online and offline. They also may require you to need to make doctor's visits to either do your injection or teach you how (depending on what your health care provider says they want to do). Some people can learn to inject themselves, others may not feel comfortable and can go to their doctor or a clinic to receive your shot. Make sure you have been properly instructed by a professional health care provider prior to doing your own injections.

IS T Gel and T Cream the same?

Differences between the cream and the gel options are the thickness and potency of the actual product . They are both transdermal methods (using the skin to get to the bloodstream) of using testosterone and are very similar in how they are used and function and the are usually a used in a smaller area so less chance of transfer and more equal levels. Creams are becoming a more stable option over the gel. This is a decision you and your doctor should make as to which option is better, side effects can differ slightly from brand to brand.

This is a comparison chart I found to help you make an informed decision on which style of application is best for you.

The images are in order of left to right

Importance of Individualized Treatment: No single THRT method suits everyone. Factors like age, lifestyle, medical history, and personal preferences play a significant role in the best choice.

Factors to Consider: Consider your daily routine, if you are comfortable with injections, the dosage, and potential side effects.

Consulting with Healthcare Professionals: Before deciding on any method, it is very important to discuss options with your/a healthcare provider familiar with testosterone therapies. This can also include an endocrinologist.

Important: remember more is not better! Taking a larger dose than you are instructed to can cause adverse side effects such as irritability, mood swings, changes in libido, and even hair loss.

Here is the source I used for images

Mayo Clinic Source

Source 3

Other sources include my experiences, and advice given to me by my family physician and endocrinologist