silverhandy

[silverhandy]

chekov’s cat: if you see a cat, it will probably be relevant later.

schroedinger’s gun: there’s no way to know if a gun is loaded or not until you physically inspect and check it yourself, so it’s safest to assume all guns are loaded.

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I read this, and I had to.

The more fanart I do, the more of my headcanons you get. Gerry is part of the team, and Jon friend from uni. Gertrude is still the headarchivist

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Me and the ao3 girlies

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Cassian vs overzealous soldier - Andor s01e06

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the way that this is always on my mind one of the most affecting interview exchanges ive ever read in my life to see a bl author say the bonds between men are alien to her and also that sgrs is like that because kumota decided in order to accurately pay tribute to rakugo she had to speedrun every relationship dynamic ever in a cast of like 4 characters

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for real once you realize that you can actually wear whatever you want and call yourself whatever name and pronouns you want and have whatever interests you want and be whatever gender you want your life gets so much better and more fun

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Newly adopted Jinx: :)

Sevika: ... d'you want a beer?

Silco: SHES SEVEN

Sevika: What else am I supposed to give her?!

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spotify wrapped is HERE! send me a number 1-100 and i'll tell you the song it corresponds with on my top 100 playlist!

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I was rewatching that scene where Silco takes Jinx to the river and one line really made me think - "you need to let Powder die so the fear of pain will no longer control you" right after talking about how he was "reborn" after nearly dying right in that exact spot. Now, he might be talking about the fear of betrayal, but I think it's more than that. Such a traumatic experience as nearly being drowned surely leaves a mark and while I recognize that it can present in many different ways I was a little surprised how comfortable Silco is with water. Not only is his old hideout literally at the bottom of the ocean, but the entire river scene, the way he caresses the water, submerges himself in it? It’s almost like he’s basking in being in control not over it, but over himself. 

so yeah the takeaway is that Silco totally brute forced himself through exposure therapy as part of “letting a weak man die”

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Jayce: is the pain bad?

Viktor: it's not that bad

Jayce: Don't lie to yourself

Viktor: I'm not lying to myself I am lying to you

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Ah yes what a fine hobby.

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Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?

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better not to breathe than to breathe a lie

He knew one thing - Shimmer carried a promise of strength. The constant pain made him feel weak. Vulnerable. If he was to ever show his face in Piltover again, he had to become anything but.

read on ao3

It burned.

That first breath he forced down his throat felt like being stabbed by a thousand tiny needles. The flow of oxygen to his brain was so sudden that for a second Silco felt as if he was going to lose the little balance he had and plunge back into the icy water. By sheer chance, the momentum he gained by blindly slashing with the knife saved him from falling back into its icy depths.

He must've hit Vander in one of these desperate swings because he heard a grunt and the hands still grasping at his clothes finally let go. Silco lunged forward, back into the water, desperate to get away, still swinging the knife, but the only thing he managed to slash was air. If Vander called out, Silco didn’t hear it. In fact, he could barely hear anything over the roaring of the storm and the beating of his own heart.

Silco’s feet slipped on the slimy rocks lining the bottom of the river. His lungs burned, but it wasn’t even comparable to the throbbing on the left side of his face. It started with the cut under his eyes, only to spread further. He could barely see through that eye and rubbing it aggressively only seemed to make matters worse as he tried to maintain his balance in the water still threatening to take him along with its current. Clutching the knife, Silco pressed forward. He could barely feel his limbs at that point as they grew heavy and numb from the cold.

After what felt like an eternity, Silco finally dragged himself to the shore. It wasn't long before he was retching, vomiting toxic water into the sand, feeling the way it burned at his insides. He raised his hand to wipe his mouth only to puke some more. Damn, he must’ve swallowed gallons and it just kept coming, his abdominal muscles clutching painfully as they fought to rid his stomach of what soon was nothing but bitter bile. He tried standing up but tripped before he even managed to get to his feet. Silco could feel the adrenaline dying down, robbing him of the only thing still pushing his body forward. His muscles trembled with the effort as he crawled forward, not really seeing where exactly he was headed. If Vander decided to follow, Silco didn’t stand a chance, there could be no easier target.

The darkness that washed over him was almost welcome.

***

At first, consciousness was coming to him slowly, as if to ease him back into reality, make up for the violence he experienced just a moment before. Silco tried to focus, mulling the question of how long he was out, but coherence came to him slowly, not quite catching up with the increasing understanding that he was no longer lying on the river bank. Silco could feel his head swimming, limbs not really responding to his attempts to move them. It finally hit him that he was not lying down at all, but propped up on what turned out to be a wooden chair, his arms resting on the sides. The stabbing pain around his left eye has dulled into a distant thud.

It took him more than a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t his most pressing concern. It snapped into his brain like a slide loading into a projector.

He couldn’t move his head.

“I didn’t expect you to wake so soon.”

The voice was so close that Silco couldn’t help but jump, feeling a hand rest against his brow, fingers examining the deep cut beneath his eye. Silco felt his breath quicken, panic overtaking him as the man kept prodding, staying right outside his peripheral vision. Not quite trusting his voice, he trashed, only to feel the restraints he didn’t know were there dig further into his skin, which earned him a disapproving click of the tongue.

“Now, calm down. I realize the position you find yourself in is far from comfortable, but it is for your own good. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself further. Or me, for that matter.” the man’s voice was calm but hardly comforting. Unable to see his face, Silco let his good eye trash around, taking in his surroundings. They seemed to be in a cave, a crudely carved wall traveling high above their heads. Before Silco could force his good eye to focus on the glowing plants peeking through the cracks, the man brought a lamp over his head, the sharp, surgical light nearly blinding him. When he finally got used to the brightness, the other man’s silhouette moved to his right, just enough for Silco to finally see his face. As their eyes met, Silco froze. The doctor was smiling, but there was nothing kind about his sickly pale, thin face and snake-like eyes, narrow and dark. “I stitched the cut beneath your eye, but it looks like there’s more to address here. I’d really appreciate it if you could stay awake for this part.” the man said, reaching to grab what Silco could only assume was a tray with medical equipment on it, judging by the unmistakable clunk of metal against metal. He couldn’t see what the man was holding, but the other hand was back to hold his head down. “Really makes you think what we’re dumping into the city’s waters, huh.” the doctor murmured, his face inches away.

The needle that pierced his ruined eye made Silco scream before he had the chance to clench his teeth.

“You can feel it?” the man asked, clearly amused. “Good. That means there’s something to be salvaged.”

                                                             ***

The recovery that came after was slow. Silco spent the first few days of it drifting in and out of slumber, his senses pleasantly dulled by whatever medication the doctor was giving him. However, as the doses grew smaller and his days got longer, Silco had to face everything that the conscious world had to offer.

The most dawning realization was that even when he’ll finally be well enough to leave the cave, there won’t be anything to go back to. Vander had betrayed not only their cause by making a deal with the enforcers right as the upper city’s resolve started to dwindle, but went a step further and sold out Silco as well. They need someone to take the fall, Vander had said, a pained expression on his face right before Silco heard the heavy footsteps of the enforcers echoing against the narrow alleys.

So he ran.

And Vander chased right after him.

It wasn’t long before they lost the armed guards behind them, both men throwing themselves into a maze only someone born in the undercity knew how to navigate. Silco supposed neither of them expected where it’d land them in the end.

Mercifully, Singed didn’t insist on making conversation, at least not at first, leaving Silco to ponder his current situation. The doctor was distant, clearly used to being alone and easily got lost in research, spending hours on end slouched at his desk. The heavy, nauseating scent of the rotting flowers that filled the cave didn’t seem to bother him, something Silco envied. Every few hours he had to leave Singed’s hideout to get some fresh air, these short trips leaving him more exhausted than he had any right to be.

He kept telling himself that the unease he felt around Singed was just paranoia, a whim with no solid ground in reality. To say that the doctor treated him kindly would be a stretch, but he took care of Silco’s injuries and didn’t pressure him to leave, even when the days started stretching into a week. There was nothing to explain why Silco felt so tense around the other man, like a cornered animal about to be devoured.

That is until he saw the creature.

Silco never had much affinity for animals, but looking at its glazed eyes unsettled him. It was clearly alive, its chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, no doubt dictated by the many tubes connected to its flesh. It emitted a gentle, violet glow, not unlike the flowers that grew all over the cave.  

“What…what is that?”

“Oh yes. This is Rio.” before Silco knew it, Singed was standing right beside him, his long fingers gently stroking the creature’s head. It chirped in a way that reminded Silco of a dying fish dragged to the shore. “A truly fine specimen, last of its kind. A young gentleman used to assist me with it, but I suppose it got too demanding, in the end. I can’t blame him, though. Many need time to understand that we don’t need to yield to the shape nature insists upon us.”

To that, Silco said nothing.

                                                            ***

Over the next few weeks, Silco could feel himself grow more irritable by the hour, the hot pain radiating down his face driving him over the wall. He could feel Singed watching him closely, as if examining yet another specimen, but he had no strength to ponder this. It wasn’t long before Silco started snapping at any attempt at conversation from Singed’s side, but the doctor didn’t seem to mind, calmly accepting the foul mood his companion was in. He didn’t offer him any more pain medication, though, and Silco didn’t ask, desperately clutching to what little was left of his pride.

That is until even that was gone, but even then, Singed had told him no, time and time again lecturing him about the addictive nature of opioids. Silco felt that Singed was looking down on him, patronizing in a way he found absolutely infuriating. After going back and forth like this for a few days, Silco decided to change his angle.

Singed had a habit of indulging his only companion with hours upon hours of monologuing about the potential uses of Shimmer and all the ways it still had to be tweaked to reach its full potential. Even when Silco didn’t feel like talking, he still occasionally tuned in. Singed would often get carried away with the scientific details, half of which escaped Silco’s understanding, but he knew one thing. Shimmer carried a promise of strength. The constant pain made him feel weak. Vulnerable. If he was to ever show his face in Piltover again, he had to become anything but.

“This...shimmer of yours” Silco started, feeling the way the word tasted on his tongue. “How potent is it?”

“What are you really asking?” Singed retorted with an intensity that threw Silco off. He glanced at the beast lying on its side on the other end of the room, its heavy breaths nothing more but background noise. How quickly a mind adapts to the sight of suffering, Silco thought to himself as he forced his stare to leave the creature’s empty eyes and look back at Singed’s thoughtful expression.

“You know what I’m asking,” Silco said, feeling himself grow impatient. “This,” he gestured at the left side of his face. The swelling was long gone and all that was left was an ugly, half-moon shaped scar resting against his orbital bone, its discoloration a testament to how resistant it was to treatment. “is not getting better. It’s been weeks and I can’t even see light. Whatever you put in those eye drops is not helping.” not to mention they stung like a bitch, but that Silco decided to keep to himself. It took more than he was willing to admit to expose his weakness, there was no need to delve into it further. Everything in him screamed to be cautious around Singed, but deep down Silco knew that nothing could escape the doctor’s watchful gaze. Not the way Silco kept turning his head to the left to make up for the loss or the water poured into the glass that hadn't quite reached its destination, not to mention the way Silco had to bite down on his tongue every time he put medicine into the damaged eye because it felt like the river toxins eating at it all over again.

And lastly, the way Silco’s clothes clung to his back as he wiped his face from sweat and how he kept twisting his cold, clammy fingers in a futile attempt to distract himself from the constant pain hammering at his senses.

“It is what I told you. The brain is a powerful thing and with time, you will adapt.” Silco opened his mouth to reply, suddenly irritated that Singed was taunting him, but the doctor cut him off. “However, if you are truly open to less orthodox treatments, I’m confident administering Shimmer could reverse the nerve damage, at least partially. Treating Rio has provided me with great insight into what can be accomplished with this substance, but,” he paused, and his expression changed into what Silco could only refer to as hopeful. “I have yet to test it on a human subject.”

                                                            ***

Singed caressed the medical equipment with fondness, a vial of Shimmer resting in the middle, not unlike a crown jewel.  

“Are you sure this is what you want?” the doctor asked, not looking Silco in the eye as he ran his thumb over the blade of one of the scalpels.

“Are you doubting your own research all of a sudden?” Silco snapped, fingernails digging into the skin of his palm. He could feel the fear clutching at his throat, poisoning his thoughts, but it was too late to back away. Besides, that was a reflex of a man long gone. He already made up his mind and the road ahead left no room for faltering, even if it started right here, strapped to a chair of whom Silco was increasingly convinced was a madman.

Singed cocked his head as if studying the other man’s expression. “I was just making sure that you understand the risks.”

“Just get to it,” Silco hissed. The tight, leather restraints around his wrists were growing increasingly uncomfortable. He could feel his nails breaking the skin of his palms, leaving tiny, half-moon shaped marks.

“As you wish.” Silco could almost hear a hint of sarcasm in the other man’s voice, an uncanny giddiness so unfitting to Singed’s usual demeanor.

Deep down, Silco was grateful that he couldn’t see a thing when the doctor got to work.

[silverhandy]

// what is truth but a survivor’s story?

a Silco inspired playlist

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DEATHLOOP (2021) | Déjà Vu

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LGBT culture is your parents knowing absolutely nothing about you