After the war against the Noxians, nothing seems to make sense anymore. Ekko has lost more than he can bear: a purpose, a battle... and the girl he believed in until the very end. But what if not everything was truly lost? What if Jinx's death was just a lie-one she crafted herself to give everyone the illusion of a happy ending? And what if, in the end, they both realize that alone, they're only bound to slowly self-destruct? A continuation of Arcane Season 2, filled with fights, unexpected reunions, journeys across Runeterra-and maybe, in the cracks, even a little love. Because some wounds don't heal on their own. And sometimes, the only way to be saved is to choose to stay.

Follows the plot line of the first movie. Is written for a Female reader. This took a while, but I really like it. Depending on how people like it, I can write the second movie continuing this story line. Vote, Comment, Enjoy.

Thalia Kennedy is a positive ball of sunshine, she likes dirty jokes and smiling whenever. When she meets a man, the complete opposite of her she immediately takes a liking to him and wants to be the one to teach him how to enjoy the little things is life. Heath Jackson was a complicated man in many ways, from his complicated past to his guaranteed complicated future, he was never able to run away from his silent fears he'd face alone. He was closed off and hated the thought of even interacting with people, until someone was heavenly brought in to save him. --------------------------- "I'm thinking" He tells me and I frown. Is it really that hard to think about something nice about me? "I like your lips" He finally answers with a sly smirk on his face thinking he did something. "Which ones?" I ask before I could stop myself and bite my lip. "Don't you dare answer that" I point my finger at him, the smirk still on his face. ----------------------- #3 in cold 7/11/22 #1 in sarcasm 8/10/22

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN

Margaret had a big secret. Well... big depending on who you asked. She absolutely adored sign language. Something about being able to communicate using just your hands had always fascinated her. This, along with her passion and determination, lead her to learn the language. She picked it up quickly when she was young, but she had yet to tell a soul. She couldn't help but silently hope that this hidden talent of hers would one day become useful. And it looked like that day was today. Lance, the new deaf boy in her history class didn't have have a translator. Coming out of her shell, she helped him with the class content. In the process, she found a new friend... Though maybe he would turn out to be a little more than just a friend. TW: THIS DOES CONTAIN DOMESTIC ABUSE, THOUGH VERY LITTLE. BRIEF CHAPTER SUMMARIES WILL BE OFFERED AT THE END OF EVERY CHAPTER AS WELL AS A "TW" LABEL IF ANY CONTENT WHATSOEVER IN THAT CHAPTER RELATES TO IT. ____________________ Highest ranking: #542 in Short Story

When most people hear of the word Ballet, or Ballerina, they think of a girl in a pretty pink tutu turning around in circles. I'm not saying they are wrong, but it is not all that there is to dancing. When a girl puts on their next costume, and walks on that stage, she is no longer herself. Her face is a mask and her body works like a piece of art. Let me explain to you how the life of a dancer really works. It all begins with a little girl asking her mother to sign her up for dance lessons. In this case it is a girl named Rosie. And this is her story on how she got On Top.

"'Hold me closer, tiny dancer'." "Shut up Noah." "'Count the headlights on the highway'." "My ears are going to bleed." "You're my tiny dancer, Teresina. You know that, right?" #1 in #ballet #1 in #ballerina #1 in #dancing #1 in #jock #1 in #dylanobrien #2 in #teenromance #2 in #dance #5 in #emmawatson Teresina "Theresa" White is the average high school senior - except that after graduation she plans to take on the professional ballet world instead of college. Noah Thomson is the typical jock, with a boiling temper and unpredictable mood swings - except for his hidden soft spots. After a chance collision of fates resulting in a stubborn conflict, Theresa can't seem to escape Noah no matter what she's doing. Will their troubling pasts and strong prides keep them from building a friendship, or even something more? Or will they be able to let their guards down and grow something beautiful out of the wreckage? Get a glimpse into the world of ballet, from a ballerina herself. Dedication: To Riley Wolf, for inspiring those who knew her even after she passed. We dance for Riley.