#Arcane alternate beginning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nyxs2 · 9 days ago

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Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 21/?)

The past has a cruel habit of clawing its way back — even when it's buried six feet under. No grave is deep enough to silence what was left unresolved

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 8,5K

Warnings: panic and anxiety attacks, betrayal and all the feelings that come with it, alternate reality being referenced, Vander and Silco's past, murder referenced, PTSD, hallucinations, Silco POV

Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 20

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

I've looked everywhere, but it's clear you don't want to be found. God I'm shit at this. I'm sorry. When she died... I lost my head. I told myself what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it, but the dirt was on both our hands. Anyways, you know where to find me.

Blisters and bedrock.

There were few things in life capable of truly unsettling Silco—few things that could rattle him enough to strip away his calculated composure, to leave him grasping for solid ground. Even fewer that could drag him into a state of melancholy, of raw uncertainty. But this—this—a single crumpled piece of old, stained paper, had somehow managed to do both.

Silco read the note again. A second time. A third. A fourth.

As if the meaning of the words might change if he stared hard enough. As if, through sheer force of will, he could bend reality to make them say something else—anything else. But they remained the same, etched in ink that felt heavier than any weight he had ever carried.

His fingers tightened around the edges of the note, the worn paper crinkling under the force of his grip. Outwardly, he remained unreadable—a picture of cold, practiced stillness. But inside? Inside, there was nothing but chaos, a silent, gnawing storm that had no beginning and no end.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

When he ordered the sweep of her home, he had expected to find something—a clue, a trace, the faintest whisper of where she had gone. He had thought he would piece together the fragments, follow the thread, fix this. That was why he had come himself when he had no business being here.

His injuries had not yet healed. The wound on his back was still raw, making every breath a quiet battle, every movement an exercise in endurance. He was pushing himself harder than he should, his body reminding him with every strained inhale that he was in no condition to be out here, let alone leading this search personally.

But he had to be here.

He had already been gone for more than a week, and that was time he could not afford to lose—not in Zaun. Not now. If he remained absent any longer, people would start to wonder, to notice. His men would begin to whisper. The other barons would start weighing their options, watching for signs of weakness, calculating the right moment to sink their knives into his back.

No. He couldn't allow that.

He was already bleeding. Already reeling and he refused to give them another reason to think he was anything but in control. Which he was, and for that he had Sevika to thank.

She had done her job well.

Sevika had kept everything under control in his absence—both during the days he had been unconscious and the four that followed, where he remained bedridden, regaining his strength. At the very least, the truth of his injury had been contained. Only three people knew the extent of it: himself, Sevika, and Singed—though the damned scientist had managed to cure himself far too quickly for Silco's liking.

Still, despite everything, despite the pain lingering in his bones and the other distraction clawing at the edges of his mind—her absence, the unanswered questions—there was now something else to contend withSomething he had thought long buried.

Vander.

Even dead, the bastard found ways to haunt him.

The emotions stirred in his chest were not simple. If they had been, he would have torn the letter apart the moment he realized who had written it. But instead, here it sat in his hands, edges yellowed with age, the ink faded but still legible. First, there was rage. That was the easiest to acknowledge. The fury that had burned in him for years had never truly extinguished, not even after he stabbed Vander. The betrayal, the injustice—what Vander had done to him could never be forgiven. Would never be forgiven.

And yet.

There was something else. Something far more unwelcome.

Surprise, perhaps. That Vander had even considered an apology, that he had felt the need to put it to paper after all those years. By the state of the letter, it had been written long ago—buried, forgotten, sealed away like some festering wound. And yet, even until the very end, until the day Silco killed him, Vander had still carried that regret.

It hurt more than it should have.

After all these years, after everything—Vander had finally apologized.

A hollow, belated thing. Words spoken too late, when the blood had already dried and the dust had long since settled. A sorry excuse for repentance that meant nothing now. And yet, it lingered, gnawed at him in ways Silco had thought himself immune to.

There had been a time when he wanted to hear it. A time when he told himself that, if Vander would just admit what he had done, just acknowledge the betrayal, then maybe—maybe—some part of him could find peace. But eventually, that desire had been buried beneath something sharper, something colder. Vengeance had been easier to cling to. There was no space for forgiveness in war.

Now, standing in the wreckage of what they had been, Silco felt rage.

Rage that it had taken Vander this long to feel any semblance of remorse. Rage at the audacity of it—that he would expect anything from Silco in return. And rage for yourself, rage for that feeling buried so deep it was barely worth recognizing, something quieter. Something bitter.

The ache of what had been lost.

Because once, once—they had been brothers.

Not by blood, but by something stronger. They had fought side by side, built something together, dreamed of a future together. Vander had been his partner, his family. There had been a time when Silco had trusted him more than anyone. But that time was gone and he did not regret killing him.

He couldn't.

Regret was a luxury he refused to afford himself. Too much had happened. Too many choices had led them here, down paths that had twisted and splintered until there was no way back. No way to undo what had been done. Silco had made the necessary choices to build a nation. To free their people. Vander had made the choices to stop him. In the end, one of them had to die for the other to win. Silco had won.

That was all that mattered.

But reading Vander's words, Silco couldn't stop himself from wondering. The thought crept in, unwanted and insidious, slithering past the walls he had built around that part of his mind.

Could it have been different?

In another reality—one where he had found this letter in time—would he have forgiven him? Could they have salvaged something from the wreckage of their brotherhood? He thought of the blood in the water, the searing betrayal, the years spent rebuilding himself from the ashes of what they had once been. Could they have found a way forward, past the chasm of their irreconcilable ideals?

Silco would never know.

And it was better not to dwell.

That was not the reality he had been given. It never would be. The past had already set its course, and in the end, it had buried Vander beneath the weight of his own choices. His choices. Silco had simply done what was necessary.

Silco stilled. For a moment, everything—the weight of the note in his hand, the dull, persistent ache in his body—faded beneath the weight of realization. She had a connection to Vander.

Not just a passing acquaintance, not just the knowledge any Zaunite might have of a once-revered name. No—close enough to keep something of his. A letter, written in Vander's own hand, tucked away among her personal belongings. A quiet, hidden fragment of the past. A past she had never spoken of.

Silco's grip on the note tightened.

Sevika had mentioned a few minutes ago a loose floorboard in the washroom, a small cache of old newspaper clippings and scattered pages tucked beneath it. He had dismissed it—unimportant, irrelevant. But now? Now, he would personally go through every single one of those papers.

The signs had been there all along.

The way she had slipped out of The Last Drop with such ease, as if she knew its layout. The way she had so vehemently defended Vander's actions that night on his balcony, her words laced with something raw, something personal. The way she had known Powder. And worst of all, the reference—the goddamn reference—to the friend who had helped her in the past.

Of course, it had been Vander. Of course. Who else could it have been?

A sharp breath burned its way through Silco's lungs, but it did nothing to steady the slow, crawling sensation beneath his skin. Something unpleasant. Something dangerously close to betrayal.

He had no right to feel it. He knew that. Not when he had betrayed her trust just the same. Not when he earned her trust, twist it, manipulate it, mold it into something that served his needs. But still— still, it felt like betrayal. And that, more than anything, infuriated him. Both of them had lied. But even Silco would admit—between the two of them, his lie had been the worse of the two. Because whatever she had done, whatever falsehood she had chosen to cling to, it had not broken him.

But his had broken her.

And that—that—was something he hadn't accounted for.

Even now, he could feel it. The weight of her gaze, scorching through him, lodging deep beneath his skin. That look—filled with hurt, with fury—had burrowed into his flesh, carving itself into the marrow of his bones. It refused to leave him. It haunted him. It felt so real that, for a moment, he almost believed she was watching him even now.

Silco exhaled sharply, shaking the thought from his mind, forcing himself to refocus. But the feeling didn't fade. His body went rigid. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze shifting, drawn instinctively to a darkened alley across the way. There was nothing there—only shadows stretching long in the absence of light. And yet, the feeling remained.

The sensation of being watched.

Something cold slithered down his spine, though he didn't let it show. Instead, he took a step forward. And that was when he saw it. A flicker of movement, barely noticeable—someone shifting, pulling away. For every step he took forward, the shadow withdrew further into the dark. Then, just for a second—a single, fleeting second—she moved through a thin beam of light, enough for him to see. Enough to know.

She.

Silco had barely caught a glimpse of her—just a flicker of movement, the briefest flash of familiarity—but it was enough. It had been so fast. A mere second, no more than that. And yet, he could have recognized her in a crowd of thousands.

His little dove.

She looked afraid. No—shaken. As if she had seen a ghost. As if he were the specter haunting her. Silco had seen many things in her eyes before—anger, defiance, even that quiet, unspoken sorrow she tried so hard to bury—but never this. Never this raw, wide-eyed shock that pinned her in place, staring at him as though reality had shattered around her.

Before his mind could catch up, his body moved. No strategy. No calculated hesitation. Just instinct.

It was a mistake—one he might have anticipated if he had given himself even a second to think. A moment to consider that this could be a trap, a carefully laid snare meant to draw him in and finish what she had started in that damned laboratory. But rationality meant nothing now. Not when it came to her. He had already accepted the truth long ago: he was a fool where she was concerned.

Sevika's voice barely registered behind him, calling his name—sharp, urgent. Then a curse, low and irritated, before she moved to follow. But by the time he turned the corner, by the time his breath was steady enough to shape her name, she was gone.

Vanished.

All that remained was the body of one of his own men, slumped against the alley floor. And Silco, standing there, realizing she had truly been there. That this hadn't been another ghost conjured by sleepless nights and an exhausted mind.

She was here.

And then—just as suddenly—she wasn't.

Sevika appeared at Silco's side within seconds, crouching down without hesitation to check the body sprawled at their feet. Her fingers pressed against the man's throat, searching for a pulse.

"Still breathing."

Silco barely acknowledged the words. His gaze was already sweeping the length of the street, searching for someone that he knew was no longer there. A pointless effort, but still, his eyes lingered as if willing her form to materialize from the shadows she had so effortlessly melted into.

"She was here." he said at last, his voice steady. He didn't need to elaborate. Sevika understood. Then, sharper—commanding. "Search the area. She can't have gone far."

Sevika didn't hesitate. She whistled sharply, signaling to the nearest guards, gesturing for them to spread out. Within moments, boots pounded against the damp cobblestones, figures disappearing into the labyrinth of Zaun's streets in pursuit of a ghost.

Because that's what she was.

Silco knew it even as he gave the order. It was a wasted effort, a futile chase. If she didn't want to be found, they wouldn't find her. She had been trained for this. He'd known it from the beginning and had noticed it over their time together. The way she moved, the way she sometimes seemed hyperaware of herself and her surroundings. That damned Institute had shaped her into something sharp-edged and elusive, and if that alone hadn't made her impossible to track, then years under Vander's protection certainly had.

Years. Years he had hunted for her, pried at every whisper, followed the faintest hints of a ghost's existence, only to come up empty-handed every time. It was infuriating, impossible—a shadow among shadows, that hadn't changed now.

Looking for her was like trying to hold onto smoke. And there he was again, in the same situation.

[...]

It could have been hours. Was hours.

As he expected, they found nothing of her.

Sevika sat across from him, equally silent, equally grim, the two of them sifting through every scrap of paper they had pulled from her apartment. The room had grown dim with the encroaching morning, the weak light filtering through his office windows casting pale streaks across the table. The last note landed with an unceremonious thud, tossed aside in frustration, joining the scattered remnants of what should have been answers but were, instead, nothing more than ghosts of what she had left behind.

And yet, the longer he read, the more a different kind of knowledge settled deep into his bones, threading through the cracks like poison. A realization that didn't lead to understanding but to something far worse—something hollowing.

Among the torn-out newspaper clippings detailing the massacre, among the fragmented notes, the scribbled thoughts addressed to no one but herself, there were other things. Things about Vander.

Too many things.

Orders. Instructions Vander had given her. Some were tactical—telling her to keep watch over those wretched brats of his when he'd caught wind of one of their reckless little heists. Others were mundane. Insultingly domestic: Do you need new blankets? Have you eaten today? Tell me if you're still feeling unwell.

And worse—questions that felt far too personal, far too familiar, written in that same blunt scrawl: When's your birthday? Do you even celebrate?

She had kept these. Every single one of them. Not out of necessity, not out of some calculated purpose, but because she wanted to. Because they had meant something to her. And that—that bothered him. Silco sat back, exhaling slowly through his nose, forcing down the sharp coil of something ugly twisting inside him.

He had never asked her any of these things.

Not once.

It wasn't something he thought about. It wasn't something that mattered. But Vander—Vander had wondered. Had written it down, as if it was worth remembering, as if it had been something significant enough to carve into the back of his mind. The thought left a bitter taste in Silco's mouth.

He had spent years condemning Vander for his weakness, for his inability to commit to the cause, for the softness that had ultimately cost him everything. He had spoken of it with disdain, convinced that sentiment had no place in war, that attachment only bred hesitation.

And yet—yet—here he was. Sitting at his desk, drowning in old ink and wasted words, searching desperately for something, anything, that might bring her back.

Perhaps Vander would have laughed at him for it. Perhaps, had he been alive to see it, he would have found some quiet, obnoxious vindication in knowing that Silco was no less vulnerable to such things than he had been.

Among the sea of papers scattered across his desk, one stood out. It was worn, the ink slightly smudged in places, the edges curled as if it had been read and handled more times than the others. But it wasn't its state of wear that caught Silco's attention—it was the words.

A directive. Another order from Vander, this one instructing her to escort Violet while she retrieved a shipment for the bar at the docks. Simple. Routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But it was the words beneath the directive that made Silco's grip tighten ever so slightly. A note—short but pointed, a final line scrawled in a hand that was careful, yet firm.

A demand.

"This needs to stop. We're not doing this anymore. No more notes. No more messages left in the dark. You don't have to speak to anyone if you don't want to but you're going to talk to me. At least once. Face to face. You can be the ghost you love to be for anyone else, but not for me."

It seemed she had always been this way. Lingering in the spaces between people, leaving traces of herself but never fully stepping into the light. She had kept even Vander at arm's length, existing just outside of reach, close enough to serve a purpose but never close enough to be held.

And it seemed like they both wanted to hold her, different times, but still.

"Well." Sevika muttered from across the room, breaking the silence as she poured herself a glass of whiskey. She leaned back into the worn leather of the sofa, exhaling as the tension left her shoulders. "That explains a lot."

He didn't look at her. He was still staring at the ink, his gaze dark and unreadable.

"Vander and her..." Sevika swirled the whiskey lazily in her glass, the amber liquid catching the dim light as she took a slow sip. "Pretty damn close, huh? Lovers, maybe?"

The question landed heavier than it should have.

Silco didn't so much as pause in his reading, eyes scanning over the paper in his hands, using the motion as an excuse not to look at her. His fingers gripped the parchment just a fraction tighter, an imperceptible tell—one he hoped Sevika didn't catch.

Just the thought —the damned thought— of her and Vander together in the way that Silco and she were, made him feel sick to his stomach. It wasn't a pleasant sight to contemplate, let alone think about.

"He's not her type."

He expected Sevika to move on—she was perceptive enough to know when to let something lie. But that didn't stop the way she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. And then—there it was. That sharp, dry scoff, followed by the slow raise of her brow. A look so blatantly judgmental that, for a moment, Silco nearly set the papers down just to glare at her properly. He didn't. And thankfully, she didn't press.

"Anyway..." she drawled, stretching the word out as if they hadn't just brushed against something precarious. "I questioned Singed."

Silco exhaled slowly through his nose, folding the document back into the pile. "And?"

"He says he was 'compelled' to write that letter." Sevika said, rolling her wrist in an idle gesture. "Claims he was going to speak to you in person. That he wouldn't have sent a letter at all if it were up to him."

"Compelled..." Silco echoed the word.

Sevika nodded. "Described it like... a voice in his head. An order he couldn't ignore. So he wrote it." She took a sip of the drink. "Do we trust him?"

"Yes."

The answer left Silco's lips without hesitation. A single breath, a single second of silence as he pulled a memory from the depths of his mind—one that now carried far more weight than he had given it before.

"She told me something after the ball." he continued, voice even, measured as he leaned over to grab his cigarette from the ashtray, quickly lighting it. "That, at some point, she had been... taken. Not physically, no one had touched her. But her mind had been seized, lulled into something unnatural. A trance, she called it. Unlike anything she had ever felt before. And now, this?"

Sevika frowned, fingers tightening around her glass. "The same people."

Silco leaned back in his chair, exhaling a slow stream of smoke from his lips. The room smelled of it—rich, acrid, clinging to the air, curling in slow, deliberate tendrils that dissipated into the dim glow of the lights. Sevika's next words were spoken with the rare weight of genuine concern.

"Why Singed?"

It was a good question. A logical one. And yet, the answer had already formed in his mind before she even finished asking it.

"They were watching us, that much is obvious. How, I still don't know. Perhaps it was luck. Or perhaps it was an exceptionally calculated move. Either way, they knew precisely where to strike."

He let the silence settle between them before adding,

"You were the one who told me she hated being near him." His gaze cut to Sevika, calm yet pointed. "Every time you brought her there, she recoiled. The disgust was visible. Singed never hurt her, and yet, she loathed him."

Sevika didn't deny it.

"That made it easy, didn't it?" Silco mused, voice lowering. "If you wanted to bend someone to their breaking point, you start with the weakest fracture. She despised Singed. He was the obvious target. Something to strip her control, to make her question herself. Make her question me."

Another drag of his cigar. Another slow exhale, the embers glowing, casting faint red light against his fingers before dulling to ash.

"It would be foolish, to think this wasn't deliberate. To think this wasn't designed to pull her out of my grasp, psychologically, if not physically. If she broke, she would be easier to reach. And without me in the way..." He trailed off, letting the conclusion settle.

Sevika released a frustrated breath, tossing her head back against the couch, clearly hating every second of this conversation.

"Great and here I thought this was already a mess." Her fingers clenched around the glass, jaw tightening. "Can't get much worse than this, can it?"

Silco smiled, but there was nothing amused about it.

"Sevika... It always gets worse."

He watched as Sevika stared into her now-empty glass, her brow furrowed in thought. The room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of burning tobacco and the faint clink of ice melting against the sides of her drink. Finally, she let out a sharp exhale through her nose, shaking her head.

"I don't get it." She spoke with frustration, her voice edged with suspicion. "I see the threat she poses. I've seen it firsthand. But this—"

She gestured vaguely to the air, as if referring to the unseen forces at play.

"This is Noxus we're talking about. You really expect me to believe they don't already have something just like her? A super soldier? A walking weapon? You think a nation built on war doesn't have a dozen others waiting in the wings?"

She poured herself another drink before looking back at him, eyes sharp, searching for an explanation. Silco took a slow drag from his cigar, giving himself a moment to consider her words. He exhaled through his nose, watching the smoke curl into the air, before finally speaking.

"Perhaps they do. Perhaps there are others with her level of... devastation. Others who can tear through bodies like paper, who move faster than the eye can track, who slaughter without thought or hesitation." He tapped ash from his cigar, his fingers steady, methodical. "But that may not be what they're after."

Sevika frowned, shifting in her seat. "Then what?"

"Something far simpler... maybe, her recovery."

Sevika's expression barely flickered, but Silco caught the way her fingers tensed around the glass, the way she suddenly became very still, absorbing the weight of his words.

"She doesn't stop." his voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Not when she's injured. She already took a shot in the chest and continued as if it were nothing. It's not just raw power, Sevika. It's endurance. It's sustainability. A soldier like that is invaluable. Not one that can kill, but one that cannot be killed."

She said nothing for a long moment, simply raising her glass to her lips and downing the rest in one go. Then, without so much as a pause, she reached for the bottle and refilled it. Silco smirked.

"Now you see it."

Sevika exhaled sharply through her nose, rubbing a hand down her face. "Yeah, I see it." She threw back the second glass just as fast as the first, letting the alcohol burn its way down. "But that's not all, is it?" she muttered, wiping at her mouth.

Silco's lips curled slightly at the corners. She was always quick. "No." he said smoothly. "That's not all."

She rolled her eyes, already reaching for another drink. "Of course it's not."

"Consider this, Singed injected shimmer into her. That much we know. That altered her body, warped it in ways we don't fully understand, but it kept her alive when she shouldn't have."

Sevika nodded, unimpressed. "And?"

"And..." Silco let the pause stretch just long enough for effect. "What if the shimmer did something more than just keep her alive?"

That got her attention. Her fingers tightened around her glass, and she looked at him sharply. Silco exhaled another slow breath of smoke before speaking again. "What if this change in her body had made her resistant even to death? A kind of immortality."

Sevika choked.

Literally.

The moment the words left his lips, she took an unfortunate sip of her drink, and instead of swallowing it, she promptly coughed it back up, sputtering as liquid went down the wrong pipe.

"The fuck did you just say?" she demanded, thudding a fist against her chest, trying to dislodge whatever had caught in her throat—be it disbelief, or that liquor she drank.

Silco didn't flinch. He didn't do flinching. He simply arched a brow, calm in the storm of her disbelief. "You heard me."

Sevika barked out a half-cough, half-laugh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes were wild with a mixture of incredulity and barely-contained anger. "Immortal?" she echoed, like the word itself was offensive. "You're telling me she just... what? Can't die now?"

He tilted his head slightly, considering her. "Not in the traditional sense." he said coolly, tapping ash from his cigar into the ashtray. "Or at least, that's the implication from Singed's letter. His wording was... poetic, in that unsettling way of his."

Sevika scoffed, dragging a hand down her face. "That's fucking insane." she muttered under her breath. Her artificial arm clicked faintly as she poured herself another drink, fingers trembling just enough for Silco to notice.

"You don't actually believe that." she said, not as a question, but as a challenge. "Tell me you're not swallowing that lunatic's story whole."

Silco let out a low, humorless chuckle, leaning back in his chair. The leather creaked beneath him. "I believe that I've seen her survive things no one else could have."

She groaned, throwing her head back against the couch, her frustration bleeding into every motion. "Great. Fantastic. She's a goddamn cockroach now."

He smiled at that, a quiet, amused curl of the lips. "I wouldn't phrase it quite like that."

"Of course you wouldn't." she snapped. "Because you're fucking biased."

He didn't argue. No denial passed his lips. Sevika wasn't wrong, and they both knew it.

She leaned forward, her voice low, urgent. "So what then? We get her back and just hope she never turns against us?"

Silco's expression darkened, his fingers tightening just slightly around the cigar. He didn't answer immediately, and in the silence, the weight of his thoughts filled the room like smoke—thick, suffocating, and inescapable.

"She won't." he murmured finally, barely more than a whisper, but the certainty in his voice was ironclad.

Sevika watched him, studied him. The way his jaw clenched just a little. The flicker of something in his eyes—not fear, not doubt, but... protectiveness. Dangerous, blinding protectiveness.

She scoffed again and downed her drink in one go. "Fuck me." she muttered, slamming the glass down. "This just keeps getting better and better."

Silco took a slow drag from his cigar, letting the smoke coil around his fingers before exhaling it in a long, measured breath. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a certain weight behind his next words—one that made Sevika straighten slightly, her fingers twitching against the rim of her glass as she filled up again.

"This does not leave this room."

It wasn't a request. It wasn't even a command. It was a fact. A line drawn in the sand. A warning laced with quiet authority. Sevika didn't hesitate.

"Obviously." she taking another sip from her glass. She didn't even look offended by the implication—she understood the gravity of what they had just discussed. "You think I'd go running my mouth about something like this? Come on, Silco, give me some credit."

He held her gaze for a long moment, his visible eye sharp, unyielding. "It bears saying."

Sevika huffed, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah. Consider it locked up. I'm not stupid, I know what kind of chaos this would cause if the wrong people heard about it."

"Good."

Another brief pause. His thoughts were already shifting. Turning toward the one man who might have the answers he needed. Singed. The only person who truly understood what had happened to her.

He let the last embers of his cigar burn down before extinguishing it with a slow press against the ashtray. "I need to speak with Singed." he murmured. "Directly. No more speculation. If anyone knows the full extent of what she's become, it's him."

Sevika hummed, rolling the glass between her fingers. "You want me to bring him here?"

Silco nodded, already deciding. "Yes. This afternoon. The lab is gone, until we rebuild, this will have to do."

She grunted, shifting in her seat. "Tch. That fire did more than just damage the place, you know. It wiped it clean. It's gonna take months before it's up and running again."

"I'm well aware."

Sevika scoffed, tilting her head back against the couch. "As if trying to kill you and gut Singed wasn't enough, she just had to burn the place to the ground too."

He let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no real amusement in it. "No half-measures"

"Yeah, no shit." She shook her head before pushing herself up from the couch, stretching her arm with a lazy roll of her shoulders. The bottle of whiskey that was once full was now almost empty. "Fine. I'll bring him here in a few hours."

Silco simply inclined his head. She lingered for a moment longer, then—perhaps sensing that his mind was already elsewhere—turned and left, the heavy door clicking shut behind her. Silco remained still, staring at the swirling tendrils of smoke rising from the ashtray, his thoughts shifting between the past and the uncertain future ahead.

No half-measures indeed.

He let his body sink further into the chair, exhaling as he tilted his head back against the worn leather. His good eye drifted shut, allowing the weight of exhaustion to settle over him like a suffocating fog.

It was an exhaustion that went far beyond the the stiffness in his limbs or the tight pull of the half-healed wound beneath his shirt. No, this was something deeper. He could endure physical pain—he had lived with it for years. But this... the sheer, relentless pressure pressing down on him was something else entirely.

A war was brewing, though its battle lines had yet to be drawn. Enemies moved in shadows, waiting, circling, gauging the right moment to strike. His empire stood, but for how long? And her—her absence left an open wound, festering, threatening to unravel everything he had worked to build. He had spent years mastering control, perfecting his grip on the world around him, and yet, for the first time in a long time, Silco felt something dangerously close to slipping.

For just a fleeting moment, he allowed himself the quiet.

A breath. A second. A rare indulgence in a city that never slept, never stopped bleeding. Silco allowed himself that stillness, just one moment of silence in the chaos, head bowed, eyes closed, a sigh coiled tight in his throat. The silence wasn't peace—it never was—but it was something.

Then, predictably, it shattered.

The door burst open with a force that rattled the hinges. Wood cracked against stone, reverberating through the walls. He didn't need to look. He knew who it was. Only one person ever entered like that. Without knocking. Without hesitation. Without fear.

Jinx.

Her footsteps were sharp, fast, punching into the floor like accusations. He heard the clipped rhythm of her boots before he saw her, felt the fury in every step. She came at him like a storm—quick, loud, and inevitable.

He opened his eye just enough to track her path, but he didn't lift his head. Not yet. Her face was twisted—not in the usual chaotic grin or gleeful twitch of mania, but in something darker. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and those wide, wild eyes he'd come to know so well were now hollowed with betrayal.

She didn't waste time. Didn't greet him. Didn't even slow down.

"She ran away again!" she spat, voice cracking like a whip across the room. It was raw—furious and trembling all at once. "And why, huh?! What did you do?!"

Silco didn't have time to straighten fully before she was in front of him, practically vibrating with rage. She stopped short of slamming her fists on his desk, but the energy was there—electric, dangerous.

"This is your fault, isn't it?" she snapped. "What did you say to her?!"

His jaw tensed. The headache behind his eyes throbbed with renewed venom.

"Jinx—"

"No!" she cut him off before the syllable had fully left his mouth. "Don't 'Jinx' me!"

Her voice wavered, cracking under the strain of something that went deeper than rage. She took a step back, then forward again, unable to stay still, hands clenched so tight her knuckles went white. "She was here! She was fine! And now she's gone! Just like before!"

She was trembling. Not violently, not obviously—but Silco saw it. The slight twitch of her fingers, the way her shoulders locked too tight for a child her age. Thirteen. Gods, she was still just thirteen. And yet she glared at him now as though she could set him ablaze with the sheer force of her will.

Jinx stood in the center of the room like a live wire. Her eyes—those too-bright, too-clear eyes—were wide, feverish, swimming in something between fury and heartbreak. The kind of look a child wore when their entire world had tilted sideways. Again.

"You made her leave."

Her voice cracked like flint on stone. It wasn't just an accusation—it was a verdict. One passed down by someone who had been hurt too many times to believe in coincidence.

Silco remained seated, calm, even as his own jaw tensed. He tapped his fingers slowly against the armrest of his chair, the old wood creaking beneath his knuckles. He didn't speak right away. Speaking too quickly with Jinx—especially like this—was like tossing lit matches into a powder keg.

Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "I did not make her leave. She made that choice herself."

The muscles in her face twitched, contorted. Her scowl deepened, and her nose scrunched like it always did when she was trying not to cry but refused to look weak.

"But why?" Her voice was quieter now, edged with something raw, something cracking. The shift was small but devastating. She wasn't yelling anymore. She was asking. Pleading. "She said she wouldn't go. She promised."

Silco stood slowly. Not quickly—not threatening. Measured, careful. Jinx's breathing was shallow now, uneven, her chest rising too fast. He knew that rhythm. She was spiraling. Not the explosive kind—yet—but the kind that came from deeper wounds. This wasn't the scream-and-shoot kind of rage. This was the silent breaking underneath.

And all of it was directed at him.

He wanted to reach for her. Gods help him, he almost did. But she would recoil. He could see it in her posture. She wasn't ready to be comforted. She needed a reason. A shape to her grief. Something—someone—to put it on.

So she'd picked him.

"I didn't push her away, Jinx." His voice was low, calm, but beneath it was steel. "She misunderstood a situation and assumed the worst. Then she decided to run away based on that misperception."

She blinked. Just once. And in that instant, her anger twisted into something worse.

"Liar."

The word wasn't shouted. It was whispered. Flat. Lifeless. That single syllable carved into the space between them like a blade. She was trembling harder now, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears, though she'd never let them fall in front of him. After Vander's death, Jinx never cried in front of him.

"You always do this." she hissed, her voice rising again, breath hitching. "You act like you're in control, like you know everything. But you don't. You just... you just make decisions, and people leave. They always leave!"

She turned her back to him, pacing now, frantic, one hand threading through her tangled hair, yanking at the strands as if trying to ground herself. Silco watched, jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.

Silco approached slowly, his boots silent as he moved closer to where she stayed. He could see her shoulders tremble—not with fear, but with rage barely held together by the fraying edges of heartbreak.

"Jinx." he said softly, his voice lowered as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile thing before him. He crouched down to her level, lowering himself in a rare gesture of patience, of something like care. One hand reached out, palm open, steady. "Look at me."

She didn't. Not at first. She flinched the moment his hand neared her, recoiling like he was poison. It was a tiny movement—but it hit him like a bullet. She didn't scream. She didn't sob. She just stared ahead, eyes wide and glassy, and the sound of her shallow, erratic breathing filled the silence between them. Silco froze, hand still half-outstretched.

He could've handled anger. Rage was familiar—he knew how to shape it, how to weaponize it. But this? The crack in her voice, the tremor in her lip—this was betrayal. This was pain. And somehow, that stung more than he expected.

She finally looked at him, and her voice was sharp enough to cut.

"If she ran." she hissed, blinking hard but failing to stop the tears from breaking through, "If she left us, it's because you did something." Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into the sides of her legs. "You hurt her!"

Silco's jaw clenched. The accusation wasn't new—he had prepared for it. Expected it, even. But the way it came from her, with so much certainty, so much pain—it landed like a knife under the ribs. He kept his face composed, neutral. Emotionless. That mask he wore so well.

"I did nothing of the sort." he said calmly. Too calmly. A lie, of course. But one that needed to be said. She couldn't handle the truth—not now. Not in this state. Not when she was hanging by a thread, her faith in everything unraveling.

But Jinx didn't buy it.

"Bullshit!" she snapped, the word splintering in the air between them. Her voice cracked halfway through it, shrill and desperate, like the scream of a wounded animal. Her eyes blazing, her hands twitching at her sides. Her entire body was trembling now, not from cold, but from fury laced with confusion. She wanted to understand, but couldn't. And that tore her apart.

Silco exhaled through his nose, trying to keep his composure from slipping. His fingers went to his temple, rubbing briefly before he let his hand fall back to his knee.

"You need to understand—" he began, but she cut him off before he could finish.

"No! You don't get it!" Silco stilled. "She's broken, just like us!" Jinx shouted, her words tumbling over themselves, too fast, too forceful, like she couldn't contain them. "We were supposed to fix each other! Not fight... not leave!"

Her voice cracked on that last word, a sharp, splintering sound that made something tighten in Silco's chest. She shoved her fists hard against her temples, eyes squeezed shut, breath hitching in her throat like she was trying to dam up a flood that was already surging through.

He had seen this before. He knew the signs. The tremble in her limbs. The uneven cadence of her breathing. The way her mind began folding in on itself like a collapsing star.

"Kid." His voice was firmer now, steadier, a command more than a plea. "Listen to me."

But she didn't.

She just shook her head, faster and faster, like she could dislodge the thoughts clawing at her mind if she tried hard enough. Her arms crossed over her head now, fists pulling at her hair. "She was supposed to stay." she whispered, her voice almost childlike, broken in its simplicity. "She promised."

Silco said nothing at first. He watched—trapped in that awful stillness of knowing he couldn't stop what was already unraveling. She was coming apart, and all he could do was try to catch the pieces before they shattered completely.

She was curled in on herself now, the way an animal does when it knows the blow is coming and it has nowhere to run. Her shoulders shook violently, and her breathing turned to shallow, rapid gasps—panic beginning to take hold.

"No... no, no, no... shut up... shut up!" she cried, her voice rising with every word. "Shut UP!"

Silco stiffened. The realization struck him a second too late—by the time the sound echoed, sharp and jarring, and he saw the red bloom against her skin, it was already happening. Jinx had always been volatile—yes—but this? This wasn't one of her usual outbursts. This was deeper, darker, a panic that twisted her expression until it was barely her own. She wasn't angry at him. She was at war with herself.

She hit herself again.

A wild, open-handed slap against the side of her head—sharp, quick, almost mechanical in its desperation.

"Stop, stop, stop talking!" she cried, not to him, but to the voices she heard, the ones that lived inside her skull and scraped at her sanity. Each word was a plea masked as rage, her breathing too fast, too shallow. The kind of breathing that made your lungs burn but never fill.

Silco moved on instinct. Thought was irrelevant—useless in the face of this storm. He lunged forward and seized her wrists, firm but controlled. Her arms were small, bones like matchsticks beneath his fingers, but she fought like an animal cornered, eyes wide, pupils dilated, muscles coiled with sheer, panicked energy.

"Jinx." He said her name low, steady—but it didn't reach her. She writhed, kicking, twisting, her face contorted with fear, fury, something feral. Not at him, not really—at the chaos inside her.

"Let me go! Let me go!" she wailed, thrashing harder now, her body jerking in his grip. Her chest rose and fell with violent urgency, tears finally spilling over her cheeks, but even then, she didn't seem to notice them. She was somewhere else entirely.

And Silco, for all his calculated control, all his political power, all the blood that had stained his hands in Zaun's name—had no idea what to do.

This wasn't a battlefield he understood. This wasn't a negotiation or a coup or a threat he could snuff out. This was a child—his child—splintering before his eyes, drowning in a tide he couldn't see. Couldn't fight.

"Jinx!" he snapped, voice sharper now, slicing through the air like a blade. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft. And for once, he was grateful it worked.

She flinched. It was small—a twitch in her shoulders, a flutter of her lashes—but it was enough. She heard him.

Good.

She was still in there.

"You need to stop this."

His voice was low and hard, his hands still wrapped around her thin arms. She was trembling beneath his grip, her skin clammy with sweat, breathing erratic and shallow. He gave her a small shake—not enough to hurt, never to hurt—just enough to pull her, to jolt her loose from the grip of whatever hell her mind had dragged her into.

"Look at me."

But she didn't. Her head jerked to the side, her eyes refusing to meet his. She was teetering on the edge, lost in the between—between herself and whatever storm was howling inside her head.

Silco clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. He could feel it rising in him—that sickening twist of helplessness. He hated it. Hated not knowing how to fix this, how to fix her. This was not something that could be threatened into submission or silenced with a knife. This was something fragile, something wild and broken and innocent, all at once. And it was far more terrifying than anything Piltover had ever thrown at him.

He tightened his grip just slightly. Enough to still her. Enough to make sure she didn't spiral again.

"Jinx."

The name was heavier this time. Not barked. Not shouted. Just spoken with something close to urgency.

She twitched again—another gasp escaping her lips—and finally, her eyes drifted toward him. Unfocused. Distant. But on him. Her brows pinched, as if just beginning to recognize him. Like a child waking from a nightmare and struggling to believe it's really over.

"There's no one else here." he continued, his voice now lower, grounded, deliberate. "It's just you and me."

Her breathing hitched. She wasn't fighting anymore—not really. Her body was still coiled like a spring, but she wasn't thrashing. She was listening, or trying to. He could work with that.

"Focus."

He loosened his grip. Just slightly. Just enough to allow her to breathe, to remind her she had control—but not enough to let her slip away again. He'd learned that lesson once before. She needed to feel held. Needed something stronger than the fear clawing at her mind.

"You're safe." He said it like a fact. Like it was unshakable truth. "No one's talking to you. No one's here." His voice dropped again, quieter now, steady and low, the way you'd speak to something wild that might bolt at the wrong movement. "Do you hear me?"

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, so tightly it looked painful, as if she could force the voices out by sheer will alone. He thought she might spiral again, might jerk away from him and disappear into whatever inferno her mind had pulled her into.

But she didn't.

Not this time.

Her chest rose in another shuddering breath—quieter now, slower. Not calm, not yet, but no longer desperate. The trembling in her limbs eased, just enough for him to feel it under his hands. Her fingers twitched faintly, uncertain. And then her eyes opened.

Only slightly.

Glass-like. Haunted. But focused—on him.

Silco exhaled. Not with relief. That would have been too vulnerable, too soft. But it came out anyway, low and measured, like steam released from a cracked pipe.

"That's it." he murmured, voice just above a whisper, low and grounding. The closest he ever got to tenderness. "Come back."

She blinked slowly, her lashes still sticky with unshed tears. And then, like someone had thrown a switch, the fight just—left her. The tension drained out of her bones like blood leaving a wound. Her shoulders sagged. A breath escaped her lips, raw and ragged and too big for her chest. Her weight shifted forward slightly—not a fall, but close. It was like watching a structure collapse after a storm, quiet but irreversible.

Silco didn't let go. Not yet. He held her wrists a moment longer, eyes narrowing, watching for the signs. Any flicker of relapse, any twitch that might betray another wave. But there was nothing.

Only a girl standing still.

Shaking. Small. Wrecked.

The moment Jinx launched herself at him, Silco barely had time to brace himself. Her small body collided with his, and he stumbled backward, losing his balance as they both tumbled to the floor. The impact jarred him, and a sharp sting flared up from the wound on his back, but he pushed the pain aside, focusing instead on the girl in his arms.

She clung to him with a desperation that made his heart twist. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his coat so tightly that he could hardly breathe, and for a moment, he feared he might break under the intensity of her hold. Her small frame shook against him, and he could feel the remnants of her panic still coursing through her, though the storm within her seemed to have calmed, at least for now.

Silco quickly adjusted their position, shifting Jinx's weight so that she wouldn't be uncomfortable. He pulled her close, letting her nestle into him, the warmth of her body contrasting sharply with the coolness of the floor beneath them. He was acutely aware of her breath against his chest, each inhalation a reminder of how fragile she felt in this moment.

"It's alright." he murmured softly, brushing a hand gently through her hair. The action felt foreign to him, a tender gesture he rarely extended to anyone, but it seemed necessary now. She needed comfort, and he would give it to her, if only to reassure himself that she was still here, still with him. "You're alright."

She didn't answer. Didn't move. Just held on. And Silco— Silco let her.

Time passed in slow, heavy seconds, the only sound between them the erratic rise and fall of her breath. Eventually, her shaking dulled. Not entirely. Not completely. But enough. Enough for Silco to tilt his head slightly, resting his cheek against her hair. He closed his eyes.

"I'll bring her back to us." he murmured, voice low, firm, absolute. No matter what it took. No matter what it cost. "I promise."

With Jinx still in his arms, her body trembling in the aftermath of her breakdown, Silco felt a weight settle deep in his chest—something heavier than exhaustion, something colder than anger. The room around him was quiet now, save for the uneven rhythm of her breath, but his mind...

His mind wasn't quiet at all.

His grip on her was firm, steady, an anchor in a sea of chaos neither of them knew how to navigate. But even as he held her, even as he focused on keeping her grounded, something surfaced from the depths of his thoughts—something that had been buried, discarded, left to rot in the forgotten corners of his memory.

"You know where to find me."

The words had meant nothing at first. A final sentence scrawled at the bottom of that damned Vander's note, a throwaway phrase that should have been insignificant. But it wasn't.

It wasn't.

Because there was only one place Vander could have been referring to and the realization made Silco's breath catch. He had forgotten. Truly forgotten. For all these years, the place had meant so little to him that it had ceased to exist in his mind, reduced to nothing more than a phantom of the past. The mines.

"I know where your mother is hiding, Jinx."

Part 22

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Okay, I need to apologize especially to all the readers who usually comment on every chapter and I reply. I was really overwhelmed these past two weeks and was focusing on writing, so I kind of forgot to reply. I'm really sorry. Well, I always wondered how Silco would react upon seeing this letter, after everything had happened, and this is my vision of it.

↓ ┊ TAG LIST ┊ ↓

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#silco x you #silco x reader #arcane fanfic #reader insert #arcane #arcane silco #minors dni #no beta we die like silco #smut

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everythingisamazing · 8 days ago

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"How Viktors story overshadows the tragedy of Jayce" or "Why disliking Jayce means you don't understand him (yet)." Disclaimer: This is a long one. Since starting to post my (mostly) Jayvik thoughts, I've discovered layers to Jayces character that I feel don't get talked about enough. I disliked him in S1 - he grew on me in S2, but what makes him so compelling to me NOW is how the show replicates the central tragedy of his character with the viewers. Let's start with the assumptions the show encourages us to make about him: Good looking, smart, a little naive, selfish, overachiever, golden boy. These are then strengthened by comparisons to Viktor, caused by their shared screen time and narrative connection. And since V is the one being "framed" with the tragic story (escaping an inescapable death), the tragedy of Jayce, that is happening simultaneously (more on that later), gets obscured. Truth is: If Jayces life looks like success to us, that's mostly because he has to make it look like that. Let me explain: Jayce, as a boy, almost dies on his way to Piltover. As tragedy would have it, he gets saved by and falls in love with what's forbidden in his new home - magic. So he researches the thing he is basically destined to create in secret, only to get found out in the worst way possible. Cue the trial scene. I think the reason why we don't empathize with him enough here (especially not on the first watch) is because it happens so early in the show and we are still busy getting situated in the universe of Arcane. But if you look at it from Jayces perspective, it's pretty traumatizing: He is the heir of his house and having apparently lost his father early, responsibility rests heavy on his shoulders. A house, comparably low on wealth and influence. And you could say it's arrogance, that makes him blurt out "I was trying to create magic." but if you consider his behavior throughout the whole show, I'd actually call it impulsivity and not being able to hide his emotions (I hc Jayce as having ADHD). What we get next, is him wanting to throw himself off a building - which can get misread as "wow, this guy was so obsessed with his vanity project, he'd off himself", when his moms words at the trial ("My son is not well") point to him struggling with something for a while and this being the final straw. And I mean, just think about that - You have a character that starts off at rock bottom, but because we didn't see the journey of how he got there, we fail to empathize with him going forward. If you put yourself in Jayces shoes, would you not feel like you had to do everything it takes, to never get to that point again? Can you imagine the fear, having almost lost your future because a mistake you made escalated to the point where they wanted to exile you? Wouldn't you feel like becoming everyones "golden boy" to make good on that, is something you had to do? THAT'S what I mean, when I say the show replicates the central tragedy of his character with the viewers. We see his story (until a certain point) as the story of someone who wants to go up, up up, but miss, that from his pov, the alternative means going all the way down. I want to end this by giving an example, how Viktors presence plays into that: There is one time, where Jayce actually voices his feelings regarding this matter, when he says "I never asked for this!" And isn't that true in more ways than one (hint hint). But because Viktor is the one who died and is (understandably) upset in this scene, revived and changed against his will, it seems selfish, that Jayce would even bring that up. But is it? Or is he rightfully pointing out, how every single thing he did (and I will give examples in future posts), after Viktor essentially stopped HIM from dying (another amazing parallel) in the very beginning was trying to make the best out of the circumstances he was given? Circumstances, that, quite frankly, ANY character in that show would have severely struggled with?

#this is NOT bad writing but the opposite #this is fantastic writing that actually kind of overachieves #but not really because we all ended up loving jayce again after he got a beard #the beard fixed him #I wish tumblr allowed for longer posts cause I have so much more to say about this #arcane #jayvik #arcane analysis #jayvik meta #jayce arcane #jayce talis #arcane spoilers #arcane meta

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starlightshadowsworld · 24 days ago

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Arcane isn’t a show that views race in the same way we do.

But it was created by people who do and we will watch it with a certain lens that comes with some interesting implications.

Whether they’re intentional or not.

The first thing that comes to my mind is Sevika trying to reunite Zaun and yet it’s Jinx that they wish to rally behind.

Someone who’s expressed on multiple occasions that she wants no part in being a symbol.

And I get why they would want to after the incident with the council.

But Jinx essentially taking credit, whether she meant too or not from Sevika in this movement does make me think how often movements like this are started by women of colour.

Who are ultimately forgotten about and are never given their dues for it.

Sevika herself is south Asian coded with her name being servant in Hindi and her song Renegade makes that connection pretty clear.

I’ve seen people argue that Sevika is ignored during the prison break out because she was Silco’s right hand.

But that argument falls apart for me because Jinx was also very close to Silco. And I’m sure word got around he ended negotiations with Piltover because they wanted Jinx.

Whether they agreed with those negotiations to begin with is another thing but the point is he still declined them for her.

Jinx who they were happy to hand over and it was Sevika who said we don’t hand over our own. Jinx who they would prefer to treat are their symbol of freedom over Sevika.

Caitlyn is wasian coded and so much of her character revolves around following her mother’s legacy. She was sheltered growing up and rebelled against the image her parents wanted her to be.

It’s her family name that gives her any power to begin with. And when shit hits the fan on progress day the first thing her parents wish to do is stop her from being an enforcer.

She calls it coddling and they call it protecting her.

Jayce’s ethnicity is not as clear coded to me so I won’t try and assign him one but he is clearly a man of colour.

I feel he also undergoes a similar shift to Caitlyn with becoming a symbol of Piltover as the man of tomorrow through the influence of his families name.

As well as his perceived usefulness to the council with hex tech. It could be why he’s still been allowed to stick around after they all unanimously wanted him kicked out the academy.

And the defence his mother ran too was that her boy was ill and out of his mind. Which could be her trying to humanise Jayce in there eyes so that they don’t see him as a threat for his dangerous ideas.

Ekko who’s story is built upon sacrifice and how his goal has always been to protect the community he built. He’s largely forgotten until someone needs him to clean up their messes.

Compare our Ekko to the Ekko in the alternate reality, the boy saviour to the boy that got to stay one. He is selfless and he is so much stronger and smarter then people realise.

And he only manages to tap into that full potential in the world where he’s given the same opportunities he missed in his own world.

Victory wouldn’t have been possible without him and yet where’s Ekko’s credit?

The way that Mel is against many of what the council does and says. But is always careful with the way she frames her words. She may have lived in Piltover for years but she’s not considered one of them.

She has to be approachable, the diplomat for her voice to be heard and being sent away as a teenager she was probably forced to grow up quicker.

All while carrying her families past on her back and the shame and hurt from it.

Ambessa who is this matriarch of war and how everything she does is for her children. To protect them, to get revenge and who took them from her. Knowing that Mel may resent her for it but doing it anyway because one day she’ll appreciate it.

Because if it means she will be safe that’s all that matters to her.

There’s also how the Arcane fandom can mischaracterise BAME characters but that’s a whole other topic of discussion.

And I’m not saying oh the people who made Arcane are racist or whatever. I’m saying that things can have certain implications when you make a character a different race.

Even when the series themselves doesn’t view race the same way we do our world does and those implications are apparent whether intentional or not.

Be they positive or negative and it’s interesting and fun to explore them.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #ambessa medarda #mel medarda #sevika arcane #ekko arcane #jayce talis #caitlyn kiramman

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dicegrimorium · 2 months ago

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Greetings!

The adventurers have decided to investigate the giant tree trunk in the forest. It has a doorway, inviting them to go into its depths.

They go inside, and down they go a spiral staircase made of bark. The journey seems long, but they are able to reach the bottom.

When they step outside they find themselves in a cave, the roots of the giant tree still present around them. They begin to make their way around the dark tunnels, climbing the tree roots to go to the other side.

And now they’ve found it. A door, etched with arcane runes marks the entrance to what they’ve been looking for: the Assassin’s Guild.

But how will they get inside? And what will they do once they figure a way in? Will they join the assassins or will they destroy their operations once and for all?

You can see a preview of this map’s Patreon content by clicking here.

If you liked the map I’d be extremely thankful if you considered supporting me on my Patreon, rewards include higher resolution files, gridless versions, alternate versions, line versions, PSDs and more. Thank you!

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #pathfinder #dnd map #battle map #roll20 #rpg map #forgotten realms

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mercutio-the-velaryon · 3 months ago

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omg do you have any true meljayvik recs where mel DOESN’T “admit” that jayce loves viktor more because i am in the trenches here

10 Meljayvik Recs for Real Meljayvik Truthers

Explicit

Someone Worth Sharing by fenfyre (Jace)

Classic long-form smut, Mel's role is a conductor-y but the tension feels pretty equal alternatively there is also...

Explicit

A Little Night Music by AllThingsWillPass

a Mel-centric perspective flip on the fic.

Teens & Up

The Sun, The Moon And The Blacksmith by AllThingsWillPass

A Speculative Fairytale esque AU with Mel and Viktor as Gods courting Blacksmith Jayce.

Explicit

Marital Privilege by theneonpineapple

Arcane Legal AU centring, two main relationships, Sevika x Silco and Mel x Viktor and Jayce is there too. This fic really encapsulates the freak shit meljayvik could have going on if we lived in an ideal world.

Explicit

The Rise (And Fall) of Hextech by hextechery (blue_chocolate)

Warning: Unfinished fic and the author isn't sure they'll continue but there's still some really great stuff explored in this one. I mean meljayvik band AU need I say more. (Also the author has a ton of works with melvik, meljay, jayvik and meljayvik, so go wild)

Mature

Breakfast by Reece Bennet (ohmygodsimback)

Domestic Meljayvik with polyamory and conflict resolution I used to pray for times like this.

Explicit

sancta trinitas by manticoremoons

Kinda Meljayvik bible a little.

Explicit

you're holy to me by maevedarcy

Canon divergent poly fix-it one-shot with established Meljayvik

Teens & Up

Green Eye by Dannidorina

Cafe AU!!! with Painter Mel, Barista Jayce and Bioengineer Viktor. Author just updated after a two year absence too happy days!!

10.

Mature

The Moon has Two Sides by Synergetic_Prose

Meljayvik - The beginning of the melvik dynamic - sex positive asexual Viktor.

11. (Because the first two are technically the same story)

Teens & Up

Kiss and make up already! by gavinnersworldtour

Meljayvik married life fic, just really cute. (Part 3 of an everyone lives AU, Author recommends reading the first two parts before this fic)

Now for a shameless self-plug

The Love Club by Me

Modern College AU - WIP but expect very messy throuple nonsense. You might wanna wait for me to upload a few more chapters first because it starts pre meljayvik knowing each other.

#arcane #mel medarda #viktor #jayce talis #meljayvik #meljayvik fic #meljayvik fic recs #Also this is the first arcane ask I've gotten #get in my inbox y'all yapping is my specialty #viktor arcane

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thewistlingbadger · 3 months ago

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The Unsolved Mystery of Silco's left Eye (an analysis on shimmer and eyes)

Silco, the main antagonist in Arcane, has two different color eyes. One is a normal looking teal eye and the other is a black eye with a orange, muddy iris. When we only had season one, it was assumed his left eye looked the way it did due to the injury he obtained when he was attacked by Vander and the river toxins mixed with his bodily fluids.

But in season two we got to see an alternate reality! Silco and in that AU, Silco's left eye is completely different. Instead of being black and orange it's just kinda gray and normal looking. Very similar to the way blindness is portrayed in animation. This is interesting because Silco isn't blind in the AU or in the actual reality. His non normal eye looks around and matches his normal eye's movement, they coordinate together. Silco also never makes any comment about lacking any sort of vision, so it seems that he has retained at least most of his vision despite his major injury. Speaking of which, even Silco's injury itself is different in the AU. It's smaller and less dark than it is in reality.

This made people begin to ask why Silco's eye was different even though Silco obtained the same injury in both universes. Some suggested that the reason was shimmer, but I brushed that aside because I didn't really see how or why that would be. However, now that I think about it months after the fact, there actually IS a place we've seen a similar thing with shimmer and eyes.

Now admittedly this is VERY similar but this isn't exact to what Silco has. This is Deckard after consuming only one vial of shimmer. Even though his sclera is black like Silco's, which would suggest that shimmer is responsible for Silco's black sclera, notice how Deckard's iris is still a clear shape. It isn't like Silco's, which isn't perfectly circular. Deckard has also maintained his natural eye color, blue, once he takes Shimmer. This did not occur with Silco, Silco's left iris ended up changing a completely different color. The most compelling difference, however, is that Deckard's eyes actually REVERT back to their original color once the effects of Shimmer have worn off. This is interesting because once again, Silco is not the same way, his left eye is permanently black and orange.

So if shimmer did cause Silco's eye to change so drastically, then why was this the case when we know for others it didn't work that way? If shimmer had no effect on Silco's eye then why was he taking a shot of shimmer on the daily just for his eye? What was the purpose of it? Was it pain? Does this mean the au Silco is in pain everyday because he lacks shimmer as a medical resource? There are only two other people who have maintained permanent body augmentations as the result of shimmer, and one of them doesn't count because he was messing with other shit so it's difficult to determine whether it was actually shimmer's fault or not.

Jinx receives extensive shimmer treatments after she blows up a bomb way too close to herself. She was on the brink of death and shimmer was the only way to save her. This is dissimilar to Silco's situation, because even though he suffered a massive injury, he still had the ability to walk and commit other functions. Jinx was literally unconscious and about to die. We don't know how much shimmer was used on her, but then again we don't know how much shimmer was used on Silco back in the day, if it was ever used on him at all. Additionally, we know that whatever amount it was, it was a SHIT TON. We literally see the injections and they are brutal.

Her case with shimmer is truly a phenomenon because not only is she the first person to ever receive permanent benefits of shimmer that are positive (increased speed) without the need of consuming more shimmer, but her irises also permanently change from blue to pink.

Now this is interesting because remember, we saw Deckard's sclera's temporary change while his irises stayed the same. We saw Vander's own irises and scleras be unaffected by shimmer when he took the same amount of Shimmer Deckard did but then as he was dying we saw his irises become pink. We say Vi and Viktor's and Sevika's irises flash purple after being injected with Shimmer but only for a moment, nothing really long term. Not even the people who were addicted to shimmer are were using it constantly over the course of several years, like Huck, received physical changes to the eyes. Jinx's irises become pink forever, she gets new speed ability, and it seems that shimmer is just a fluid her body is producing now because she is now crying tears of shimmer.

So by this alone it seems that shimmer just...affects everyone a different way? But then we have to remember that there are potentially different versions of shimmer. The shimmer we see at the start of the show might not be the same shimmer that we are at the end of the show. Especially since in act one shimmer is framed as a prototype and in act two it's framed as a popular drug sold to the masses. ESPECIALLY since we know shimmer is Singed's invention, and he seems to have been tinkering with it over the years. Shimmer's most noticeable side effects are massive muscle growth at an accelerated rate, joint disfiguration, and massive height growth at an accelerated rate. Yet Viktor and Jinx, two people that received shimmer from Singed, don't receive these side effects. This could be implying that Singed has his own version of shimmer that isn't the shimmer being produced on a wide scale by Silco.

TDLR The nature of Silco's eye will always be a mystery because shimmer is just too inconsistent. The various ways it affects others and the possibility of multiple variations of the drug existing make it too hard to pinpoint if shimmer is the reason why Silco's eye is like that. I honestly don't understand why his eye is different in the AU and what they were trying to imply.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #arcane season two #silco arcane #arcane silco #mic does analysis #arcane shimmer

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starlight-tav · 5 months ago

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I'm going fucking insane over Jayce & Viktor so I offer you an unhinged ramble about the butterfly and the narrative structure of their relationship. I apologize in advanced for being batshit.

So Viktor and Jayce's relationship is a chiastic structure. A chiasm is where the beginning and end of a story point to the middle of it, creating an X or ∞ (a chiasma is also a structure in genetics, if you've seen the word in science classes before.)

This means that the rise and fall of the narrative mirror each other (parallelism). There are many parallels in Jayce and Viktor's relationship, with one of the most overt being "Am I interrupting?" and one of the more covert examples being Viktor's belief in Jayce's dream to use science to bring access to the Arcane ("Our hextech dream") and Jayce's belief in Viktor leading them to shattering access to the Arcane web ("We finish this together.")

At the center of this narrative is death and resurrection (metamorphosis). The first season ends with Viktor's death, and the second begins with his resurrection, the literal center of the story.

Now, Arcane is about love in its entirety. All-encompassing, earth-shattering, life-giving, life-taking love. Love, which inspires our greatest evil and our greatest good, is something that changes us. Love which can lead to grief, can make us into our worst selves (consider the warmongering), but it can also make us into our kindest selves (consider Isha.)

Jayce's love for Viktor saves him but it also changes him. Twice. When Viktor dies, Jayce is unwilling to let him go and uses the hexcore to resurrect him. This transforms Viktor into the Herald.

When Jayce is forced into the alternate reality where he experiences the decline of his body and the struggle to climb from the depths to the surface (a narrative representation of empathy), he finally understands Viktor. This transformative understanding primes him to fulfill his promises to Viktor, past and future - to destroy the hexcore and stop the Arcane from bleeding out all over reality; to save Viktor.

The butterfly is a well-know symbol of transformation, so it's no accident that it follows Viktor and Jayce from the very beginning to the very end. But it isn't just a visual representation of love and its power, but a reminder of the very structure of their narrative.

Because Arcane is also about perspective - narratives. Silco and Vander show us how our shared experiences can yield different motivations, as do Jinx and Vi, and Ambessa and Mel too. Every single one of these characters is motivated by love, but their methods are opposing forces.

We see, time and time again, that those with the most power are those who control the narrative (power in Zaun creating a righteous rebellion vs power in Piltover creating a narrative of dangerous insurrection), and that power lacking empathy is corruptive (Cait and Ambessa forsaking empathy in favor of violently seizing control vs. Vi and Mel embodying empathy to save that which they love.)

At the center of all of this conflict is partnership. Failed partnerships, like Vander & Silco and redeeming partnerships, like Ekko & Jinx. Viktor and Jayce share a dream, and that dreams bleeds the Arcane, corrupting reality. But when they forsake their partnership (Jayce joining the council and Viktor leaving the lab), it nearly destroys everything.

When they lean into their affection, when they utilize empathy, when they let their love be transformative, they heal the Arcane and reality. In their final moments, they mirror each other, and as they're scattered into all timelines and all possibilities by the explosion they are transformed into something cosmic together. Their story ends as it began.

We know from the lifecycle of the butterfly, by the structure of the narrative, that beginnings and endings are not so finite. Love is both a constant ("in all timelines, in all possibilities") and an anomaly ("That which inspires us to our greatest good, is also the cause of our greatest evil".) It is the infinite, and the infinite is not a line with a beginning and an end, but a tangle of time and potential.

The chiastic structure of Jayce and Viktor's relationship is one that shows that love itself is the most powerful and transformative force in nature. It demonstrates that love doesn't just have the potential create or destroy but to do both at the same time; that reality isn't binary, but it is symmetrical. A butterfly was always a caterpillar and a caterpillar was always a butterfly; it experiences both, not one or the other (there's even a moment where it's neither and both all at once!)

Love is imperfect. People are imperfect. When Jayce is transformed in the depths of Zaun, he finally understands this. He carries this revelation to the height of Piltover where he finds Viktor waiting for him.

"There is no prize to perfection, only an end to pursuit."

If love were perfect it would stagnate, dreamless. Recognizing its power is seeing it for all its good and evil, and choosing it all the same.

"You were never broken, Viktor. There's beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are. An inseparable piece of everything I admired about you."

Viktor's transformation isn't from a broken man into the Herald, it's from a man believing himself unworthy of love to one knowing he is loved unconditionally. If love were perfect it would require perfection of us. But it isn't and it doesn't. Only Jayce can show Viktor this, because Jayce loves Viktor and Viktor loves Jayce.

"I thought I wanted to give magic to the world, but all I want is my partner back."

Think about Singed telling Viktor that "Love and legacy are the sacrifices we make for progress."

And Viktor responding, "Jayce will understand."

He did understand eventually, only he sacrifices progress and legacy for love and transformation. Love is not the opposite of progress, perfection is the opposite of progress. In a perfect world, there is no need to dream together. Jayce understands this. He shows Viktor this. And together they change.

I've always been bad at concluding paragraphs, but I hope my rambling has made sense up to the point. TLDR; the butterfly is a visual representation of Jayce and Viktor's narrative as one of love and transformation.

#arcane spoilers #arcane #jayvik #narrative structures #arcane meta #jayce talis #viktor arcane #jayce x viktor

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fairystarstorm · 5 months ago

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Thinking about what's going wrong with Arcane s2

I have not finished s2 yet (still need to finish act 3 but basically got all the major spoilers). I feel like a big problem with this season and why the Z vs P conflict fizzled out is that so many characters are simply not in the that narrative anymore. Especially since they all had interesting stories to explore in regards to it. And if they are apart of the plot line, the things that would make things more interesting are simply ignored.

Taken from the narrative

Heimdinger: the founder of the city realising that the society he built ain't shit and that he failed Zaun by not helping to uplift and protect them (instead of just picking out a pupil from Zaun and calling it a day). All that Talk about how destructive magic could be in the wrong hands while realising he build a society filled with those exact wrong hands because of his inaction. Him actually putting in the work to change and dismantle those structures and belief systems that he allowed to grow in the first place

Jace: He goes against his own morals once again to build weapons for Caitlyn and her team. But we get none of the introspection or the regret that should have gone with it. Why because he is off in an alternative reality fighting for his life. He finds out that Hextech is poisoning Ekko's tree and there's nothing more to that conversation?? If something had gone wrong with the core it could have destroyed Zaun? Something could have happened that could have disabled or killed many others like it did with Viktor. But let's gloss over it. Him reconciling with his actions as a councilor??? That kid really was just a blip in his life i guess.

Viktor: a big problem I feel with Viktor's character is that he can feel very removed from Zaun at times. Like we never got to see his horror about Hextech being used against his people. We never got to know about any family or how he actually felt about being resurrected. What his plan was for Zaun beyond making a little commune. A huge part of that is also because they barely let this man have meaningful interactions with anyone in s2 besides ghost Sky and Jace. Vi, Jinx, Vander and Isha going to his commune could have been a possibility for that. Because even though I do believe that Vander and him did not know each other personally, I don't think he would not have known of him. Also we barely hear him talk meaningfully about his identity as a Zaunite in Piltover

Ekko (and the firelights in general): In my opinion the biggest snub. The others character arcs were mostly about other things in s1 (piltover politics, hextech etc.) but Ekko's whole motivation was to protect his ppl from both the enforcers and Silco. However we didn't get to see him deal with the rise of enforcers in the undercity or Sevika being the one to try and unite Zaun. We didn't get to see him grapple with the fact that Vi became an enforcer or that he was wrong to place his trust in Caitlyn. And even though I love how ep7 is highlighting his good qualities I wish they were explored in his timeline. Him being there would have also allowed for more spotlights for the firelights and Zaunites in general. None of the other people in the cast (Except for Vander) are as involved with regular people in Zaun then he was. It makes Zaun feel less complex and lived in beyond the visuals.

Mel: Considering that they are setting up her mother as the true big bad (which flattened the Z vs P conflict + general bad writing surrounding ambessa which i won't discuss now), it would have been nice to have her be able to react. Like in the beginning of the season we get it a little bit with Mel using spies to figure out her mother's plans. We could have had her realise that Piltover is not fundamentally different from Noxus because of how easy it was for her mother to take over. Only that the violence they dish out is different between the 2 cities. We could have had her sit that in both cases she is part of the oppressive class and that she was only acting out of self interest rather than actually caring about these issues. Instead of her being Kidnapped to get powers, let her finish the story arch that had been set up for her in s1.

Underexplored

Sevika (And Jinx): her involvement with Silco and how that is seen by Zaunites that are not chembarons. Ppl being unwilling to trust or listen to Sevika pleading for united Zaun when she was apart of Silco's operations make sense. Silco brought shimmer into Zaun. Ekko says that a lot of the firelights joined because of how it ruined their lives. Sevika having to struggle with her role in it and how it ultimately makes it harder for the to reach her goal would have been satisfying! Also her showing up after episode 4 would have been nice in general. Also same with ekko, she was the only one who was reaching out and communicating with different groups of Zaun. She and Ekko were windows into Zaun society that they just kept closed for some reason.

Vi: Just everything man.... her trauma, her choosing to be an enforcer, her alcoholism... her relationship with Jinx/powder, her guilt, her role as protector who seems to be failing no matter what she does. All kinda of flushed through the drains for caitvi to be able to exist (yes i dislike caitvi, no i also don''t really care for jayvik or timebomb and i am also a lesbian).

Jinx: I thinks she has been done quite well so far but I have heard for how her arch ends and it is just bad..... also wished they explored Isha more and what Vander coming back would mean for Jinx

Caitlyn: wish they would actually put the responsibility of her actions onto her instead of Ambessa/Jinx killing her mom. Also the fact it was never addressed that even in s1 she was microagressive as fuck towards Zaunites. Yes she eventually saw the need for independence (after talking to Ekko mind you) but does that mean anything if when she was in power due was actively making things worse for Zaun. She could have started working kn redeeming herself but the fact that the narrative/the writers don't want to put the full blame on her just makes that idea seem laughable

Tbh a lot of it has to do with the fact that the writers didn't let characters interact with each other for long periods of time or deal with the consequences of their actions but hey at least the coplesbians fucked and the scientists had their madoka magica moment

#arcane critical #arcane #arcane criticism #mel medarda #ekko arcane #jinx arcane #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #jayce talis #viktor arcane #heimerdinger #sevika #piltover and zaun #ambessa medarda #anti caitvi #if we are honest

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mithrava · 2 months ago

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How To Love Like You (jayvik) - Chapter 1

💙 Jayce is a simple Zaunite mechanic with a brilliant mind and a plan to change the lives of his people. Through a not-so-legal accident, he ends up meeting the man who gave Zaunites a chance at a healthier life years ago - Piltover's Great Inventor, who happens to be just another fancy Piltie named Viktor. The two join forces for the greater good of the Undercity, and love and desire begins to bloom under this unconventional partnership. However, Viktor must confront the remnants of his past that still haunt him.

OR Zaunite Jayce and Piltie Viktor work together to improve Zaun and they can't keep their horny and lonely hands from each other.

Many kisses to @hivemuthur for beat-reading!

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor (Arcane/League of Legends)

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1/?

Tags: Alternate Universe, but still the Piltover we know, Jayce is a zaunite, Viktor a piltovan, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Porn with Feelings,Porn With Plot, tags and more characters will be added as the story progresses, Romantic Fluff, Service Top Jayce (League of Legends), Power Bottom Viktor (League of Legends), First Time, First Meetings, First Kiss, POV Viktor (League of Legends), POV Jayce (League of Legends), Canon Disabled Character, Blow Jobs, Mutual Pining, Tenderness, Yearning, Touch-Starved, Fluff and Angst, Romance, made up science I took out of my butt sorry, Teasing, Dirty Talk, Friendship/Love, Humor, Happy Ending, Top Jayce (League of Legends), Bottom Viktor (League of Legends), Chronic Pain

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63338917/chapters/162265387

#jayvik #jayce x viktor #viktor x jayce #jayvik fanfic #jayvik fic #jayvik fanfiction #arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #arcane au #arcane jayce #arcane viktor #arcane jayvik #jayvik arcane #jayvik ao3 #ao3 fanfic #myfanfic

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nyxs2 · 2 months ago

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Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 14/?)

Silco's presence is carved into your body, crawling over your skin like a mark that never fades. Maybe it should hurt, maybe you should resist—but you can't bring yourself to care. And that should terrify you.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 9,8K

Warnings: sexual tension (a lot of it actually), revenge plans, possessive behavior, Silco being a tease, jealous Silco, dagger cuts, breath play, choking, blood and violence, canon-typical Silco violence, almost death (not exactly, but you'll understand), references to deaths, Silco POV

Things get a little intense in this chapter, but it's all consented to by the protagonist. If you're uncomfortable with violent situations or intense acts, PLEASE DO NOT READ.

Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 13

Self-destruction.

You knew that concept well.

Psychology would define it as harmful behavior, a way of coping with negative emotions—anger, sadness, frustration. But to you, it was something deeper, more visceral. It was a cycle, a spiral that always threatened to pull you back in, no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself you were fine. You liked to say, almost with pride, that you had overcome it. That you were in control now. But deep down, a small, nagging truth whispered in your mind: you were always just one step away from falling again.

Maybe that was why Powder's presence helped keep you sane.

The little girl had a peculiar energy—intense and chaotic, yet at the same time, genuine. She had actually asked Silco to hire you, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And, predictably, he had firmly denied her. But what truly caught your attention wasn't Silco's response—it was hers. Powder wasn't discouraged.

There were no arguments, no tantrums or childish pleas. Just a shrug and a determined look, as if she had already expected the "no" and had an alternative plan in mind. Now, the two of you had this little ritual, a shared habit that took place away from Silco's watchful eyes. Not that you were naïve enough to think he didn't know.

Of course, he knew.

Men like Silco always knew. He had eyes all over The Last Drop, and even if he wasn't interested enough to intervene, he had surely been informed by some of his men. But the fact that he hadn't interfered meant that, for now, he was allowing it to continue. Even though he had been the one to threaten you to stay away from her, and you had no idea why he had suddenly gone back on his threats.

Sometimes, when you arrived at your room, you would find a small metal monkey resting by the door. And that meant only one thing: Powder would be at the bar that night.

The little ritual between you would repeat itself once more. You would head down to the bar, where you'd find her already waiting, perched on one of the stools, legs swinging impatiently. You'd make her a juice, and then she'd pull her bag onto the table, and the two of you would begin working on her bombs.

As her small, skilled hands assembled pieces, connected wires, and adjusted tiny gears, Powder would talk about her day. About Silco, about Sevika, about Silco's men, and her little routine of blowing things up or practicing her aim. You would listen, absorbing her words, sometimes asking questions or making short remarks, but for the most part, you would simply let her talk. It was a simple act, almost mundane, but there was something comforting about it.

Curiously, Silco had left you alone these past few days. No provocations, no forced conversations. He hadn't mentioned what you had done—or rather, what he had influenced you to do. But you knew.

His silence wasn't forgetfulness, nor was it a gesture of respect. No. Silco didn't leave loose ends. If he hadn't brought it up, it meant that, in his mind, everything had gone exactly as planned. Some part of his scheme had fallen perfectly into place.

You just didn't know which one.

And honestly, you didn't want to find out what else he was planning for you.

No matter how much you had accepted that you had killed Cayden—after hours of guilt-ridden turmoil and countless attempts to justify or rationalize your actions—in the end, you had to admit that not everything had been Silco's fault. You could have left. You could have chosen something else.

But you didn't.

Cayden's blood was on your hands, and you would have to live with that, accept your guilt. Still, accepting didn't mean forgetting. And something inside you still wanted to punish Silco—after all, he was the one who had orchestrated the whole thing. But how do you hurt a man like Silco?

Simple.

You take from him what he thinks he controls.

And if there was one thing you loved more than claiming small victories against Silco, it was making him realize he had lost before he even had a chance to react.

It was the fourth and final week of the month—a detail he had undoubtedly overlooked when he restored your privileges. Your agreement with Silco guaranteed you an entire week of total autonomy, no permissions, no escorts. But that wasn't the most important part. The true advantage was the other clause: during those seven days, Silco couldn't demand anything from you. No orders, no favors, not even a displeased look—and most importantly, no touching.

And you fully intended to use that to bring hell to his doorstep.

He probably only realized it when you stepped into his office that evening.

The room was bathed in dim lighting, illuminated only by the soft glow of the desk lamp and the faint shimmer of smoke rising from the cigar smoldering in the ashtray. Silco was hunched over the desk, scanning some documents with that usual air of perpetual bored patience. But when you crossed the doorway, his eyes flicked up—just for a second.

The dress you had chosen left little to the imagination, and you knew exactly what kind of impact that would have.

Silco didn't move a muscle. His face remained unreadable, but you noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers slowed slightly as they turned the pages. The amused glint in your eyes was immediate.

You moved slowly through the office, making sure each step was audible, the click of your heels echoing against the polished wooden floor. But Silco, stubborn as always, pretended to ignore your presence. Maybe he thought that if he didn't react, you would give up.

Bad bet.

With a subtle smile, you walked over to the desk and, without ceremony, perched yourself atop it—right in his line of sight. Silco didn't lift his gaze from the papers. But you saw. You saw the slight clench of his jaw. The almost imperceptible way he inhaled through his nose, as if he needed a second to maintain his self-control. You even caught how his eyes lingered just a fraction too long before returning to his reading—a hesitation so minuscule, yet undeniably real.

"Don't think for a second that this little stunt will work, dove."

Silco's voice was low, drawn out, laced with that dangerous patience that only fueled your amusement. You tilted your head slightly, a playful smile ghosting your lips.

"Oh, I have my doubts."

Your gaze drifted across the desk, feigning indifference, until it landed on a scattered pile of letters and documents. One in particular caught your attention—an envelope, black and refined, far too expensive to be a simple message. Without haste, you reached for it. And, purposefully, you made the motion as theatrical as possible.

As you leaned forward, your neckline dipped directly into his field of vision, exposing your skin beneath the dim office light. You felt his gaze on you, hot as fire. It was impossible for him to ignore. From that angle, he could see everything. The subtle and enticing curve of your breasts, the delicate slope of your collarbone, the way your skin seemed to glow in the room's muted glow. It was almost cruel.

Almost.

Because the real cruelty lay in how he held himself back.

Silco was a man of impeccable self-control, but even he had limits. You saw it when his fingers, once steady over the papers, twitched ever so slightly. You saw it when his breathing slowed just a fraction. The most fascinating part was that he didn't retreat. He didn't look away. He simply watched, absorbing every detail with that predatory intensity. And you pretended not to notice.

Toying with the edge of the envelope, you turned it between your fingers, taking note of the wax seal—an intricate rose embossed into the surface. Refined. Important.

"May I open it?"

"Well, you already seem to be doing as you please." Silco gestured lazily, dismissively. "Opening my private correspondence without permission hardly seems beyond your boundaries at this point."

You smirked, utterly unrepentant. He wasn't going to stop you, and both of you knew it.

With careful movements, you retrieved a small blade—not the dagger Silco always carried, but a finer, more delicate one—and sliced through the wax seal in a single, clean motion. The envelope parted smoothly, revealing a handwritten letter in exquisite penmanship, so refined that, for a moment, you were genuinely impressed.

It was the first time you had ever seen something so... elegant.

he letters flowed with perfect balance, the dark ink contrasting against the expensive cream-colored paper. You began reading, your eyes tracing over the words with growing curiosity. However, as you delved further into the content, your brows furrowed slightly.

"Well, this is unexpected."

Silco merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish the thought.

"You've been invited to a masquerade ball." You finally announced, your voice carrying a note of genuine surprise. Then, you paused dramatically, holding his gaze before continuing. "In Piltover."

You watched closely as Silco's eyes widened slightly while he took the letter from your outstretched hand. His sharp gaze scanned the elegant handwriting, his brows knitting together as he absorbed the carefully penned words. The mention of a masquerade ball in Piltover had clearly captured his immediate attention.

The two of you knew exactly what kind of people would be in attendance. The elite of Piltover's society—those who pretended Zaun was nothing more than a cautionary tale meant to frighten wealthy children. But also the few from Zaun who held enough influence to be tolerated within Piltover's lavish halls of marble and gold. In this case, Silco.

"A masquerade ball..." Silco murmured, the corner of his lips curling into a slow, calculating smile. He turned the letter between his fingers, as if weighing its implications. "And hosted by a Noxian organization, of all possible hosts. How... intriguing."

You tilted your head slightly, lazily crossing your legs over the table as you continued watching him.

"I'd call it suspicious."

It was clear this wasn't just any event. This wasn't about philanthropy or some trivial social gathering where the wealthy flaunted their extravagant masks and waltzed beneath crystal chandeliers. No. This was a political move. Noxians in Piltover under the guise of goodwill? A tasteless joke bordering on irony... This unknown organization was certainly up to something. Perhaps they wanted to stir the waters, or provoke a shift in the delicate balance between Piltover and Zaun. The fact that a Zaunite industrialist like Silco had received an invitation could only mean one thing—someone wanted his attention. Or, more likely, his cooperation.

"Obviously." Silco admitted, his tone indifferent, though the sharp intensity in his eyes betrayed the thousand calculations already running through his mind. "But I suppose I have no choice but to attend."

He folded the letter with precise movements and set it back onto the pile on his desk, as if his decision had already been made. Then, his gaze returned to you, a nearly amused smile dancing on his lips.

"And you, my dear dove, will be my companion." His voice carried that same poisoned sweetness he always used whenever he was orchestrating something behind the scenes—something that others wouldn't realize until it was far too late. "I have a feeling this ball may prove to be... enlightening."

"I don't even have a dress for an event of this level." You remarked vaguely, as if that were a real obstacle, before adding, more sincerely, "And the idea of going to Piltover doesn't appeal to me in the slightest."

Silco sighed. By now, he had to understand your reasons for hating Piltover.

"Nor to me." he admitted at last, his voice a low murmur, laced with restrained irritation. "But if this organization went through the trouble of inviting me, of insisting on my presence, then it's only logical to assume they've been watching us very closely."

You had to admit: he had a valid point. If Piltover was the stage where pawns moved in predictable patterns, Noxus played the game differently—brutal, ruthless. And now, they were extending a hand to Silco. But was it to offer an opportunity or to tighten a noose around his neck?

"And naturally." Silco continued, leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk, "it's always better to know your enemies. To understand what they want and what they're planning. Before they have the chance to catch you off guard."

A half-smile tugged at your lips as Silco's gaze flickered downward. He let his eyes wander to the generous neckline of your dress, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. A clearly wicked thought crossed his mind, because a slow, lazy smirk curled his lips.

"I'm sure we can find a dress... suitable for the occasion."

The heat in his tone made your chest rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm, but you held your ground, meeting his gaze with a defiant arch of your brow.

"You just want to show me off to those pompous, arrogant idiots in Piltover, don't you?" Your voice carried a teasing edge as you leaned forward, fully aware of the effect it would have. If Silco was already shamelessly admiring your neckline, then you were going to make damn sure he got an even better view. His eyes gleamed with something between arrogance and desire, a sharp, calculating glint—but at the same time, indulgent.

"Can you blame me for wanting to show off such a stunning woman?" His voice slipped through the air like silk, a low, smooth purr dripping with intent. "You are a rare jewel. Something meant to be seen, admired, desired by those who dare call themselves the elite."

Your breath caught for the briefest moment as Silco lifted a hand, fingers trailing slowly along the edge of your neckline. He didn't quite touch you, only grazing the thin fabric of your dress, as if teasing both himself and you. A ghostly caress, charged with an electric tension that made your body tense ever so slightly.

His fingers drifted until they reached the cold pendant of your necklace—his gift. He rolled it between his fingers in a seemingly absentminded manner, but you knew better. Nothing about Silco was ever truly absentminded. Every gesture, every word, every glance was deliberate.

"If parading you on my arm is an act of vanity, then so be it." He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked onto yours. "Consider it part of my privilege, dove. The privilege of being the only one to claim you. To call you mine."

A shiver ran down your spine, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing his effect on you. Instead, you smirked slightly, tilting your head just so.

"You're a damn smooth talker, Silco."

"I prefer to think of it as... persuasive."

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers leaving you to tap against the polished wood of his desk in a slow, contemplative rhythm. The silence between you wouldn't last long—Silco's brow furrowed slightly, his head tilting to the side as he studied you with a critical, almost appraising gaze.

"You seem to be in an... unusually good mood, dove." he observed, his voice a low, thoughtful rumble. "I have to say, I'm surprised. After what happened with Cayden..."

You knew he would question you. From the moment you stepped through that office door, you had been subject to his scrutiny over something neither of you had truly discussed. For a brief moment, you considered dressing up the truth. But it didn't take long to realize that lying wouldn't matter. Not to Silco.

He was the one who had unlocked the floodgates, the one who had pulled the strings that unraveled the last remnants of hesitation in your mind.

"You were right. He deserved it."

The words left your lips without a tremor, laced with a sharp certainty. You didn't regret it. Not even when that small part of you—the one still clinging to Vander's teachings—twisted in anguish deep in your consciousness. But you wouldn't torture yourself over a decision that couldn't be undone.

Cayden's death still weighed on you. Not as an unbearable burden, but as a reminder. You had your reasons, and no one could take them from you. Vander would understand, wouldn't he? He wouldn't judge you for something done in pain. After all, after what they took from you... after what was lost... you had the right.

Besides, there was no way for him to be disappointed now.

"He made his own fate." your voice came out steady, laced with something between contempt and resignation. "I gave him a chance."

The words lingered in the air for a moment. It was strange... because, for an instant, it felt as though you were hearing another voice instead of your own.

"I gave her a chance."

The phrase echoed in your mind, the memory of that moment intertwining with the present like a dark shadow. The same words Silco had used to justify Kate's death. The same tone, the same certainty. He had spoken them that day with such conviction, without a trace of hesitation.

And now, here you were, repeating them as if they were yours, as if they were a natural thought.

In the end, you and Silco weren't so different.

That thought should have unsettled you more than it did. You should have felt disgusted, maybe even afraid. But instead, all that remained was a quiet recognition. The choices you made had brought you here, just as his had brought him to where he stood. You now understood the weight of certain decisions, the price of every concession.

It wasn't about right or wrong. It was about doing what needed to be done, even if it turned you into something you didn't want to be.

"He chose to waste his chance. Threw it away just like he threw away his own life."

You tilted your head slightly, watching his expression, searching for a reaction. But Silco only stared at you, his single pale eye analyzing your posture, your words, your intent. You couldn't tell if he was satisfied with your answer or simply waiting for you to say more.

Silco's pride was obvious in his eyes.

"You should be proud of your actions. You did him a favor, ending his miserable existence with a mercy he didn't deserve."

He stood suddenly, the chair creaking with the abrupt movement, and before you could react, he was between your legs—when you parted them on pure instinct—closing the space between you to mere inches.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, not just from the unexpected proximity, but from the way he made it feel so natural, as if it were a right that had always belonged to him.

His warmth radiated against you, a silent reminder of the tension that always lingered in the air when you were together. An electric current crackled between you, charged with something unspoken, something that had been building with every lingering glance, every unanswered provocation.

But Silco was a man of words, and even though he had leaned in so close that you could feel his breath ghosting against your face, he still didn't touch you. His hands rested on the edge of the table, one on either side of your thighs, fingers pressing lightly into the wood as if he needed something solid to ground himself. He still kept to his side of the unspoken contract, no matter how much you tested his limits, no matter how hard you pushed him beyond the edge of his patience.

His gaze drifted slowly to your lips, so close yet still out of reach. For a moment, Silco remained there, as if deliberating, as if battling the instinctual urge to simply close the distance between you. But then, his eyes lifted back to yours, and the hunger burning in them was impossible to ignore.

Desire pulsed in those mismatched irises, a slow-burning heat that never truly faded, no matter how much he tried to conceal it. He was consumed by it, drawn to you, challenged to take what he wanted—what you both knew you needed. You called him closer without saying a single word, and he was there, almost yielding, almost letting himself fall.

His voice dropped into a low, intimate rasp, the rough edges of it brushing against your skin like a whisper of flame.

"If you don't resent me for what happened with Cayden... then tell me, dove, what is it that you're truly after?" His head tilted slightly, gaze locked onto yours as if he could unearth the truth from your very soul. "Why go to such lengths to provoke me, to push me to the brink of my restraint... if not to punish me for my past transgressions?"

You smiled—a crooked, wicked smile—as you watched him dismantle your plan with ease. Of course, he saw through the intentions behind your actions—that was what made it all the more interesting. The more Silco understood the game, the easier it became for you to move him in the direction you wanted.

Your body leaned toward him subtly, as if something invisible were pulling you closer, as if the gravity around Silco was different, heavier. If this were any other day, your hands would already be on him, just as his would be on you. The desk between you would have become an improvised bed, and the world around you would have faded away. But not today.

Today, you were trapped in this silent war, this clash of wills where neither of you gave in first. A battle fought not with blades or bullets, but with glances, words, and the promise of something far worse than surrender—yet just as delicious.

"Oh... I am punishing you." Your voice slipped easily into that scornful tone, every syllable dripping with venomous provocation. You saw how his eyes narrowed slightly, a glint passing through his heterochromatic gaze, but Silco didn't interrupt. He was waiting. "You made me kill someone... someone who deserved it, no doubt. But a death is still a death."

He leaned in closer, until your breaths mingled—warm, charged with electricity—until the space between you was practically nonexistent. So close that you could see every detail of his heterochromatic irises—the blue, cold and placid, a shade that reminded you as much of the sky as of the treacherous waters of a river; and the incandescent orange, threaded with black, a living shadow devouring any light around it. Many times, you had likened that eye to an abyss, but now... now you could say it was a black hole.

Lethal. Inescapable. Indescribably beautiful in its own way.

"You think you're punishing me, dove?" His voice came low and cutting, every syllable laced with that ever-present, veiled threat. "With this?"

Silco's gaze swept slowly down your body, every detail absorbed in his meticulous examination. He always did this—analyzed, pondered, cataloged your every reaction, as if deconstructing a complex mechanism just to understand its weaknesses—weaknesses he was already well aware of.

His face remained impassive, cold, as if nothing he saw impressed him. Pure performance. You knew it. You could feel the latent tension in his gaze, the way his breathing grew imperceptibly heavier, the way his fingers pressed against the wood of the desk, almost as if they wanted to move... but couldn't.

"Do you really believe that tormenting me with a glimpse of what you won't give is enough to make me lose control?" His laughter came low and sharp, a rough, dry sound devoid of humor. It was a warning, a provocation. A reminder that, in the game you played, he had always known how to be patient. "Oh... you underestimate me."

His fingers lifted toward your chin, pausing midair, just a hair's breadth away from your skin—so close you could feel the heat radiating from him, a heat that shouldn't be so intense, so suffocating. But he never touched you.

Perhaps it was its own form of punishment. A silent retribution for the game you had started. Or, worse, a cruel reminder that Silco had always had far more control than he let on. But whatever his intent, the movement made your body react on instinct. Your chin lifted, a conditioned reflex after all the times Silco had done this exact same thing.

Your own body had already learned to respond to him—even if your mind refused to admit it.

"Then go ahead, dove. Keep testing me, keep pushing me past the edge of what I can endure."

His voice dripped with provocation, tinged with an almost amused arrogance. A challenge disguised as indifference.

"But know that every moment you spend tormenting me, every second you deny both yourself and me what we already know we want..." He leaned in a little closer, the tip of his nose nearly brushing against your skin. Just enough to make your breath falter for a brief moment. "Is a moment wasted."

His breathing deepened, slow and measured, as if he were holding something fierce inside himself. But his eyes?

His eyes burned.

"A moment that could be spent on something far more... pleasurable."

Your tongue flicked over your lips, your mouth suddenly dry at his words, because you knew this wasn't a bluff. Silco always knew how to provoke back. He didn't enter the game to play—he entered to win. To consume you completely. But just like him, you were terrible at losing.

Slowly, you leaned in closer, shrinking the space between you until only a thin sliver of distance remained. Close enough to feel his breath, to almost taste the memory of his lips just from proximity. The familiar scent of smoke, whiskey, and gunpowder filled your senses, bringing with it a wave of excitement and danger. All it would take was for him to give in—to lower his head just slightly—and his lips would be on yours.

"Who's underestimating who here, Silco?" you taunted, your voice dripping with challenge, laced with the insolence of someone unafraid of consequences. "Do you really think this was my plan? How naive of you..."

Your eyes gleamed with mischief as a smirk curled at the corner of your lips.

"Call it... an appetizer."

You closed your eyes and, with cruel slowness, let your mouth ghost over his. A phantom touch, a taste of what he couldn't have right now. A game of patience that both of you knew was a ticking bomb, ready to detonate.

You smiled as you felt his breath hitch for just a second.

"The main course will be served later."

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━

Silco should have learned by now to always expect the improbable when it came to her. Never bet on the card he thought was the right one, never trust the rules he knew. Because when it came to her, the game always changed. And he, fool that he was, still found himself falling into that illusion—that treacherous habit of believing he had her in his hands.

It was easy to cling to the trivialities of the everyday. To the silent certainty that, when their eyes met across a crowded room, it was him she was looking at. That when she smiled in that wickedly teasing way, it was for him. That when she let her attention drift to someone else, it was nothing but a fleeting whim, a meaningless game, because at the end of the day... it was always him. Him and no one else.

But then there were moments like this.

Silco gripped the iron railing of the balcony, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. Her laughter rang out from below—exaggerated, theatrical—a sound that made his teeth clench. She leaned back, tossing her head lazily, feigning interest in some insipid comment from that damn punk who had the audacity to grin like he had said something of worth.

The thought that someone like him could elicit a genuine reaction from her was laughable. And Silco knew that. But what irritated him wasn't the scene itself—it was the way that, even as she laughed, even as that fool spoke, her eyes always found their way back to Silco. Always seeking him, testing, probing, as if making sure he was watching this grotesque performance.

Ah... she wanted to throw him into the fire.

Her so-called punishment had started off lightly.

Their encounter in his office had been tolerable—calculated provocations, lingering glances, subtle insinuations. A game Silco knew well. But then she began coming back, day after day, always with that same defiant air, always toeing the fine line between teasing and outright defiance.

And when The Last Drop came alive—when the golden lights cast uneven shadows on the brick walls, and the scent of smoke, liquor, and desire hung in the air like a sickly sweet poison... that was when Silco was condemned to his own personal torment.

She descended into the bar as if she owned the place, slipping into that eccentric, flirtatious persona—an enchanting spell that captured gazes, drew smiles, and stole breaths. A siren's call designed to drag men to the depths of the sea and leave them there, drowning in the illusion that they could ever have her. It was a game—he knew that. A childish little game meant to provoke jealousy. But that didn't make it any less torturous to watch her glide through the room as if she belonged there as much as the very fumes of Shimmer. As if she didn't know exactly who was watching her from afar, consumed by a silent rage.

Perhaps it was the experience she had gained at the brothel that made her stand out in the crowd—the way she moved, the way she laughed, the way she tilted her head when someone spoke to her. Or maybe... maybe it was just Silco's eyes. Only his eyes, seeing her in that crowded room, as if she were the only thing that existed.

Of course, she never crossed the line. Never stepped beyond her little bubble of provocation. She only drank, danced, let the men around her believe they had a chance before brushing them off with a soft laugh. And, of course, she stole sidelong glances in the direction where Silco remained, always in the same place. Like a king on his throne, watching the performance that was put on for him, and only him. You could call it a simple punishment, but for Silco, it was torture enough.

Five nights.

Five nights in a row where anger and frustration mixed dangerously with something darker. Something Silco knew far too well. Possessiveness.

The music exploded from the speakers, deafening beats pulsing through the walls and shaking the floor like an erratic heartbeat. The lights flashed in a chaotic frenzy, alternating in neon tones that blurred the vision, making it difficult to focus. It was Friday, the club was packed—a sea of bodies moving in erratic waves, smothering any trace of logic or sanity. And then, in the middle of that chaos, he saw her.

Or rather, he saw her being pulled onto the dance floor by that punk.

The bastard was too close, holding her by the waist, whispering something in her ear as if he had the right. His filthy hands roamed over the thin fabric of her dress, trailing down the curve of her hip—bold, confident.

That was enough for Silco.

The path to the bar area was taken with haste, and by the time he reached the stairs, his two guards were already waiting. Almost as if they had known he would come.

"Get her out of there." His voice cut through the noise of the music, cold and impatient. "And make that son of a bitch disappear."

A simple order. Simple, but absolute.

The guards nodded, efficient as ever. They moved through the crowd, pushing and clearing space until they reached them. He watched as one of them grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the punk with a firm yank. The bastard had the audacity to try and pull her back.

So predictable. So stupid.

The second guard didn't give him the chance. He grabbed the punk by the collar and yanked him back forcefully. The movement was swift—a blur between the flashing lights—and in the next moment, the fool was being dragged toward the exit, kicking and protesting, unaware that he was fighting the inevitable. And if Silco knew his men—and he did—that punk would never step foot in The Last Drop again. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

As for her... she was escorted in a different direction.

To Silco.

Silco stalked towards his office, his strides long and purposeful, his jaw clenched tight with barely contained fury. He could hear the pounding beat of the music fading behind him, replaced by the sharp click of his heels against the polished floor. The guard matched his pace, one hand firmly gripping her elbow, steering her along in Silco's wake.

Silco didn't spare her a glance, didn't utter a word. He was too consumed by the red haze of rage that clouded his vision, too focused on the image of her writhing against that punk, her body pressed close to his, her lips curved in a way that made Silco's gut clench with a mix of jealousy and lust. He wanted to rip the bastard limb from limb, to paint the club walls with his blood, to make him pay for daring to touch what belonged to Silco.

But more than that, he wanted to bend she over his knee, to redden that pert little ass until she was sobbing and begging for his forgiveness. To remind her, in the most primal way possible, that she was his. His to touch, his to fuck, his to claim as he saw fit.

They reached his office door, and Silco shoved it open, not waiting for the guard to do so. He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on the plush leather couch that dominated the space. He turned, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of she, her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving, her lips still swollen from that bastard's kisses.

"Inside." Silco growled, his voice a low, menacing rasp. He didn't wait for her to obey, simply watched with a dark, anticipatory gleam in his eye as the guard escorted her inside, his grip on her arm tightening just shy of bruising.

Once she was within the confines of his office, Silco turned to the guard, his expression grim. "Leave us." he ordered, his tone allowing no room for argument. He watched as the guard bowed his head, his eyes flicking briefly to she before he turned and exited the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click.

"Did you have fun, dove?" Silco asked, his voice a low, dangerous purr. It was a simple question, but there was nothing simple about the way he said it, about the way his eyes bored into hers, searching, accusing, demanding the truth. "Dancing with that... boy? Grinding against him, letting him put his hands on you, his filthy paws all over your body? Did it bring you the satisfaction you were looking for?"

She smiled, that same infuriating smirk that had been haunting him for days, a cruel little thing that held no fear—only amusement. A deliberate provocation, as if she weren't even slightly concerned about the storm brewing beneath his skin.

"Oh... believe me, that brought me more satisfaction than you can imagine." she replied smoothly, her tone a blade dipped in honey. She barely spared him a glance, as if his growing anger was nothing more than an amusing side effect of her game. "Especially now that I've seen how jealous you get."

Silco's eyes flashed with a dangerous light as she sauntered around his office as if she owned the place, as if she hadn't just deliberately provoked him in the most blatant way possible. He watched, his jaw clenched tight, as she help herself to one of the glasses from the tray on his desk, the crystal catching the dim light as she turned it in her slender fingers.

When she bent down to retrieve a half-empty bottle of his finest sippin' whiskey from the drawer of his desk, Silco's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents in his skin. He wanted nothing more than to grab her, to yank her up straight and pin her against the desk, to remind her in no uncertain terms who she belonged to, who she answered to.

As she straightened up, the glass and bottle in hand, Silco took a step towards her, his eyes narrowing as he approached. He stopped a mere foot away from her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body, close enough to catch the scent of her perfume mingled with the musk of another man's cologne.

He reached out, his fingers wrapping around the glass she held aloft, his thumb brushing against her own. Silco tugged the glass from her hand, the liquor sloshing dangerously close to the rim. He brought it to his lips, downing the contents in one long, smooth gulp before slamming it down on the desk behind him.

"It wasn't jealousy." Silco said, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. "It was a matter of maintaining order, of reminding the rabble that there are consequences for overstepping their bounds. After all, what kind of man would I be if I allowed my woman to be pawed at by some two-bit punk?"

She laughed. The sound was soft, breathy, and yet it struck him like a slap.

"Such a complex explanation just to avoid admitting the truth." she mused, tilting her head. "That you weren't just just irritated, you were seething. That every touch, every glance, every moment I spent in someone else's arms drove you mad."

She finally turning to look at him, and the glint in her eyes was nothing short of wicked.

"That you can't stand the idea of anyone else having me."

She leaned in, just enough for her breath to ghost over his lips, just enough to test the limits of his restraint

"That it kills you to know you don't own me, Silco."

Silco's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his patience finally snapping in the face of her brazen taunts. He surged forward, his hand shooting out to wrap around her slender throat, his fingers sinking into the delicate flesh hard enough to make her gasp.

In one swift movement, Silco slammed her against the desk, the air whooshing out of her lungs as her back hit the polished wood. He kept his grip on her throat, his thumb pressing hard against her windpipe, not quite cutting off her air but close enough to make breathing a struggle.

Silco leaned in close, his face mere inches from her own, his breath hot and furious against her skin. He could see the way her pulse jumped beneath his fingers, could feel the rapid flutter of her heartbeat as he tightened his grip. But more than that, Silco noticed that she didn't fight him. She didn't struggle or claw at his hand, didn't try to pry his fingers from her throat. Instead, she went limp against the desk, her body molding to the unyielding surface, her breasts heaving with each labored breath.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Silco growled, his voice a low, menacing rasp. "Touting your little victory, gloating about how you've gotten under my skin?"

He tightened his grip, not enough to cut off her air entirely but close enough to make breathing a painful chore.

"You want me to admit that I'm jealous? That the thought of another man touching you, tasting you, fucking you... makes me want to put a bullet in his brain and paint the walls with his blood?" Silco's voice dropped to a dangerous hiss, his eyes blazing into hers with a feral intensity. "Is that what you want? To hear me confess my so-called jealousy, to acknowledge that the very notion of you belonging to anyone else makes me want to destroy everything and everyone in my path?"

Silco leaned over her. He stepped between her splayed legs, forcing them further apart and his hand remained tight around her throat.

He searched her face, his gaze raking over her features, taking in the way her chest heaved with each shallow breath, the way her lips parted slightly, as if inviting him to take what was his. But it was her eyes that caught him off guard, that made him pause, his brow furrowing in confusion. He expected fear, anger, a spark of defiance perhaps... but not this. Not the slow, sultry smile that curved the corners of her mouth, the one that seemed to dare him to do his worst.

She seemed to be... amused. No, more than that. She looked thrilled, exhilarated by his outburst and the show of dominance. It enraged him, even as it inflamed his lust.

"Shall I carve my name into you for you to remember you're mine?" Silco snarled, his voice a low, menacing growl. "I think you've forgotten who you belong to."

She was breathless beneath him, her chest rising and falling in quick succession, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but was weighing the risk. For a fleeting moment, he thought he had won, that she'd finally understand the mistake of challenging him.

And then—

"Do it."

Two words. Quiet, but unwavering. A order, not a plea.

Silco stilled. At first, he thought she was delirious, by the intoxicating blend of pain and pleasure that always seemed to dance between them. But then he felt it—her fingers ghosting over his waist, subtle, seeking something. Silco moved with deliberate slowness, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of his dagger as he drew it from its sheath. The quiet rasp of steel against leather was swallowed by the weight of the moment, by the anticipation thick in the air.

He held her gaze, unwavering, as he lifted the blade between them. The cold metal caught the dim light of the room, glinting dangerously as he traced the tip down the center of her dress. He didn't press hard—he didn't need to. The satin gave way effortlessly, parting beneath the blade like flesh under a scalpel.

A breath hitched, not his.

The fabric slid from her shoulders, pooling at her waist, baring smooth, unblemished skin beneath. Silco's mismatched eyes flickered over her form, sharp and assessing, waiting. For hesitation. For resistance. For some last-minute flicker of doubt that might make him stop.

It never came.

Instead, she held his gaze, unflinching. Expectant.

He pressed the tip of his dagger against the delicate skin just above her heartbeat. He could feel it thrumming beneath the blade, could see the way her chest rose and fell with each shallow, agitated breath. For a moment, he simply held it there, the sharp point digging into her flesh hard enough to leave an imprint, but not yet drawing blood.

Then, with a deliberate, almost tender motion, Silco began to trace the initial of his name into her flesh, the razor-sharp edge of his dagger leaving a thin, stinging line of red in its wake. He started at the top of her breast, the point of the blade resting just above her collarbone, and slowly, carefully, he began to carve, his hand moving with a steady, unyielding pressure.

Droplets of crimson welled up along the path of his dagger, beading for a moment before spilling over to trickle down the slope of her breast, the blood painting a macabre trail in his name as he worked. Silco's own breath was coming faster, hot and heavy. His grip on her throat tightened, but not enough to cut off her air entirely. And when he had finished, Silco pulled the blade back, admiring his handiwork. The 'S' stood out starkly against her skin, the red lines already beginning to blur and run together

He felt her hand slide up, dragging his focus away from the fresh mark he had just carved into her skin. Her fingers wrapped around his own, the ones still curled around her throat, and then—she squeezed. A silent request. One that Silco did not hesitate to grant.

His grip tightened, firm, cutting off her air with a calculated precision that only he could deliver. He watched, enthralled, as her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting in a soundless gasp. It was intoxicating—the way she surrendered to him, the way her body arched ever so slightly, as if welcoming the darkness creeping at the edges of her vision. But then, something changed.

The moment her breath truly left her, her eyes snapped open. And he saw it.

That glow.

Silco recognized it instantly—the same luminous, eerie sheen that had burned in her gaze when she had wrapped her hands around his throat in Singed's lab, when she had nearly choked the life out of him in a fit of untamed rage. But now, instead of that ghastly, pale white, it was something else entirely. Vibrant. Alive.

Purple.

She did not move to strike him. Did not retaliate with the fury he had expected. Instead, she merely stared—deep, piercing, searching—as if peeling back the layers of his very soul. That eerie glow in her eyes seemed to strip him bare, exposing sins she should never have known about.

The violet shimmer in her irises pulsed, and for a fleeting moment, Silco wondered: Had she figured it out? Had she somehow discovered what he had done? That he had been the one to introduce Shimmer into her veins. That, without her knowing, he had altered her. Tainted her.

Was this her way of haunting him for it?

Then, just as quickly as it had come, a thin trickle of blood slipped from her nose, and Silco let go.

She gasped, her body convulsing slightly as her lungs rushed to reclaim the air he had denied her. The glow faded, receding like the tide, until her irises returned to their true color. He glanced down at her chest—the mark he had left there only moments before was gone.

No scar. No wound.

Only dried blood and the ghost of the "S" he had carved into her skin.

Silco wiped the blood from her nose, his touch unexpectedly gentle despite the storm simmering just beneath his skin and the tense feeling that existed in the office. The silence between them stretched, thick and charged, until she finally broke it with a soft, breathy laugh.

"You broke your part of the contract." she murmured, shifting slightly as she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of his desk.

He didn't flinch, didn't look away, only exhaled a quiet, measured sigh. "I did."

She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her gaze like a flame teasing dry paper. "Do you remember the consequence?"

Silco leaned back slightly, appraising her with that sharp, knowing look of his—the one that had dissected men and left them bare with nothing but a few words.

"You get a favor." he acknowledged, voice smooth as ever. "And I assume you already have something in mind, don't you, dove?"

The slow, wicked smile she gave him was answer enough.

Trouble.

There was always trouble with her.

"There's someone I'd like to see again."

[...]

Silco's office was bathed in the dim morning light filtering through the window. In front of him, Marcus stood tall, proudly displaying the sheriff's badge on his chest. Despite the usual seriousness etched into his face, Silco noticed—with a faint, cynical smile—that there was a glimmer of satisfaction in the man's eyes. The promotion was something Marcus had been chasing for years—and Silco knew he owed at least part of it to their arrangement.

Marcus, posture rigid, held a stack of documents in his hands. Documents that, to Silco, were more than expected. He had been anticipating this meeting for some time, knowing that with his new rank, Marcus would gain access to even more valuable information. So, on that Wednesday morning, Silco welcomed him into his office after receiving his letter requesting a meeting.

"Congratulations on your promotion, sheriff." Silco teased, his voice dripping with polished sarcasm as he reached out to take the stack that now hovered over his desk. Marcus, long accustomed to Silco's tone, merely grunted in response, maintaining his rigid stance and vaguely aggressive stare.

Silco already had a good idea of what he would find in that neat pile of documents, but, as always, he needed to confirm the details. The air in the room grew heavier as he scanned the first page—a police report, stamped with Piltover's crest in the corner.

The location: The Piltover Institute of Ascension and Progress. Supposedly a charitable initiative meant to give Zaunite youth a chance to rise in Piltover. It had been the site of a massacre years ago. More than twenty dead. The list of names seemed endless, mostly staff—scientists and professors. On top of that, the institute had been set ablaze, making the recovery of physical evidence even more difficult.

The following pages detailed the investigation conducted after the slaughter. The reports pointed to a student as the primary suspect. A young girl who, according to witnesses, had displayed increasingly erratic behavior in the months leading up to the attack. The details were a mix of speculation and fact, but one thing was certain—she had not only been accused of orchestrating the massacre but also of killing her own father before fleeing to Zaun.

Silco leaned back in his chair, slowly swirling the glass in his hand as he read. He remembered the weeks following the massacre all too well. Piltover's enforcers had descended upon Zaun like vultures, scouring every corner in search of her. Not that Silco could blame them—he had been hunting for her too, though for very different reasons.

He had to give Singed credit for that, after all. It was the scientist who had first suggested that finding the girl might just be the golden ticket they had been searching for.

Singed had been recruited by that organization that called itself the "Institute"—a name vague enough not to raise suspicion, yet grandiose enough to mask what truly went on behind its walls. Singed himself, in one of his rare ramblings, had told Silco that the members of the Institute had been deeply interested in his research on "conquering death itself." But, as expected, his questionable methods had ultimately condemned him.

The reaction had been predictable. Heimerdinger had not only ensured Singed's expulsion from the city but had also severed all ties between him and the Institute. Keeping him around would have raised too many questions, and Piltover liked to pretend its conscience was clean.

Hypocrites.

Still, the little that Singed had seen while he was there had been enough for him to reach a conclusion: that girl—now a woman—was a product of the Institute. The result of years of clandestine research. The problem was, no one knew exactly what she had been created for.

The next set of papers contained forensic reports. Silco flipped through them carefully, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the details. Her body had been found weeks later, floating in the river that connected Piltover and Zaun. It was in an advanced state of decomposition, making visual identification nearly impossible. The reports described how her facial features had been completely lost. What remained to confirm her identity was her hair—partially preserved—and her eyes, their shade a perfect match for the suspected.

But what truly sealed the identification was a metal choker, more akin to a collar, that had been fastened to her body. The dried blood found on the piece matched the girl's genetic material. There was no doubt, at least for the forensic examiners, that the body was hers.

What Silco knew to be untrue.

Though he was certainly curious as to how she had faked her own death and managed to disappear for so long.

Silco raised his glass to his lips, savoring his drink with an unsettling patience. His gaze shifted to Marcus, who looked mildly uncomfortable in the stifling air of the office. The greenish glow from the window cast soft shadows on the walls, as if the room itself conspired to feed the tension.

"This Institute... is it still operational?" Silco asked casually, though there was something almost imperceptible in his tone that made Marcus straighten, as if about to answer to an invisible tribunal.

"No." the sheriff replied, trying to maintain his composure. "At least, not on record. Everything related to it was officially shut down. The financiers and administrators dissolved the organization right after the massacre. There are no active administrative traces."

Silco tilted his head slightly, as if weighing the words. He swirled the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid shift lazily before taking another sip.

"And the founder?"

"He remained anonymous." Marcus replied, his tone harsher than before. "But you know who his representative was. The man who, coincidentally, turned up dead a few weeks ago."

"A tragedy." Silco said with icy irony, as if he hadn't personally arranged the so-called "tragedy." His mouth curled into an almost imperceptible smile, but his eyes didn't follow suit.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, and pulled one of the documents he had skimmed earlier. Flipping through the pages, he stopped when he found what he was looking for. His eyes scanned a note scribbled in the margin before looking back at Marcus.

"It says here that you were one of the officers assigned on the day of the massacre." Silco pointed out, his words carrying a weight that seemed to press down on the room. "Did you happen to see the girl?"

Marcus hesitated, and that pause was all Silco needed to know something was wrong. He didn't answer immediately, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet Silco's.

"No."

Silco remained silent for a few seconds, simply watching. The sheriff tried to hold his gaze, but it was like staring into an abyss—he blinked first.

"Do you think she's dead?" Silco asked, his question sounding more like a challenge than a request for confirmation.

"She is." Marcus answered quickly, but his haste only fueled suspicion.

"Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything, Marcus?" Silco murmured, his words rolling effortlessly off his tongue. He stood slowly, walking around the desk with the grace of a predator. "It's an unsettling feeling, I must say. As if something... is being hidden."

Marcus cleared his throat, trying to keep his tone neutral. "I've given you everything I have, Silco. If there's anything more, it's not in the official reports."

"Official reports..." Silco repeated with a hint of disdain. "You and I both know they rarely tell the full story."

Silco stopped beside the man, leaning in slightly, the scent of tobacco and whiskey thick in the air between them. "You know, Marcus." he began, voice barely above a whisper, "Omitting information isn't all that different from lying."

The sheriff held his rigid posture, but sweat had begun to bead along his hairline, betraying his discomfort. He could try to feign composure, but Silco had already dismantled him piece by piece—he didn't even need to ask the question he already knew the answer to.

"You saw her." Silco murmured, his voice smooth, almost pleased. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. "Now we're getting somewhere. Tell me, she didn't look like a student, did she?"

Marcus clenched his fists, clearly unhappy about being cornered, but he didn't argue. "No."

"Then why all the theatrics in the official reports?" Silco raised a brow, tilting his head slightly. "We both know that Institute was anything but a place to help Zaun's youth."

Marcus closed his eyes for a brief moment before letting out a weary sigh. "Because, at the time, one of the councilors got personally involved in this case." he revealed, his voice low, as if afraid that someone other than Silco might hear him. "And that made everything disappear."

"And who would this oh-so-diligent councilor be?"

Marcus hesitated, and Silco noticed the tension in his shoulders. He knew that by answering this question, Marcus would be crossing a line he couldn't return from. But there was no choice anymore.

"Torman Hoskel."

Silco tilted his head slightly, indifference gleaming in his expression, though inwardly, he was surprised by the information.

"Keep an eye on him and report back if he does anything out of the ordinary."

Marcus clenched his jaw, and Silco immediately saw that he was about to argue. But before the sheriff could utter any useless protest, he cut him off.

"You're the sheriff now, Marcus. You answer directly to the councilors... So don't disappoint me."

Marcus, reluctant, swallowed hard and nodded. Silco could see the hesitation on his face—a useless remnant of pride that still refused to die—but in the end, the sheriff simply obeyed. He turned to leave but didn't make it more than two steps before Silco's voice sliced through the air once again.

"I have one more question."

Marcus stopped instantly. He didn't turn around right away, but Silco noticed the way his shoulders stiffened, as if he already knew he wouldn't like what was coming next.

"Every single person who met with her that day is dead..." Silco tilted his head slightly to the side, studying the tension that rippled through Marcus' body. "So explain to me, Marcus, how the hell are you still here?"

This time, the silence was heavier.

Ah.

There it was.

Silco watched as the vein in the sheriff's temple throbbed dangerously, almost as if it would burst at any moment. He was exhausted. The conversation had already dragged on longer than he would have liked, and now, cornered, the man in front of him looked like a trapped rat, pressed until there was no more room to escape.

For a second, Silco wondered if Marcus would make the mistake of trying to lie. But whether out of good sense or fear of testing his patience, the sheriff finally opened his mouth.

"She let me live." The words came out low, almost rushed, as if he were spitting something bitter. "Told me to run back to Piltover."

Silco remained silent for a moment, simply watching Marcus. The man before him still held his shoulders rigid, fists clenched at his sides, his gaze drifting to the floor as if searching for a way out of this conversation with his skin intact.

"Did you do anything to her during this little encounter of yours?"

Marcus hesitated. Ah, so there was something. Silco said nothing, merely tilting his head slightly to the side, waiting.

"I shot her." the sheriff finally admitted, his voice nearly swallowed by his own breath. "But she didn't go down. She kept coming, even with a bullet lodged in her chest."

He ran a hand over his face, exhausted, and let out a short, humorless laugh before continuing.

"That's when I knew something was wrong with her." Marcus then exhaled a heavy sigh and looked at Silco, as if finally freed from the conversation. "Am I dismissed?"

Silco only smiled. A smile that brought no comfort.

"Actually..." He moved to sit back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other with an easy, unbothered motion. "I promised someone a reunion. So, I'm afraid you'll have to stay a little longer."

Before Marcus could react, there was a firm knock at the door.

The sheriff's expression changed instantly.

"Oh." Silco tilted his head slightly. "And it seems she's arrived. Come in!"

The door opened.

And Silco saw—not just saw, but felt—the exact moment Marcus lost all the color in his face.

The terror in his eyes was not an ordinary fear. It wasn't the unease of a man realizing he had made a wrong choice or that he was facing a predictable danger. No. It was something primal. A visceral dread that clenched his throat and made his legs tremble.

Marcus took a step back. Then another. The muscles in his body locked into high alert, like a cornered animal that had caught the scent of its own death. His chest rose and fell erratically, his wide, trembling eyes those of a man who had just glimpsed his own personal hell taking shape before him. His fingers reached for the gun at his holster, as if it would help. As if anything would help now.

Not against her.

Silco smiled again, this time genuinely.

"Meet my baroness."

Part 15

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The scene between her and Silco was created from the quote "Shall I carve my name into you for you to remember you're mine? I think you've forgotten who you belong to." which happened to be spoken by Silco's voice actor, where he says these words in Silco's voice (I have the link if you want to hear it too, send me a message). I thank the reader on Ao3 who posted this information in the comments, this chapter is for you. Also, a little breath play but in my own way, also suggested by a reader. The chapters are already planned, but you can always suggest an idea but I don't promise if I will use it.

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#silco x reader #silco x you #reader insert #arcane fanfic #arcane #arcane silco #minors dni #no beta we die like silco #smut

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violent-viscera · 5 months ago

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my true (respectful) thoughts of arcane s2

so much of the promotional material promised so much in the way of vi and jinx/powder and their sisterly relationship, but i feel like with the amount of storylines/plotlines they did in this season, it was just too busy to focus on anyone–let alone the two supposed protagonists of the show. i think the best way for me to articulate how i feel about the writing of this show is that it fell flat, lost its heart, and emotional impact of the first season.

i would have been okay with them straying from my personal favourite focus if:

the storylines had been fleshed out better

the decisions the characters made actually made sense

main characters didn't become plot devices (vi)

new additions of the show weren't just plot devices (isha, loris, maddie, etc.)

motivations of characters made sense

characters had even small lines/dialogue to articulate their intentions/ideas

less time spent on off-screen development

and the thing is with the amount of plot lines they were ambitiously aiming to see out to fruition, its really hard to also set up all these new facets or opposing characteristics in former characters–plus adding new ones too. for example:

caitlyn's facist arc that didn't really have much meaning or attention

jinx's s1 mental collapse which changed abruptly into her redemption arc via isha (plot device)

jinx's revolutionist arc (first, reluctantly and then, willingly w ekko)

vi's pitfighter/brawler arc which was literally just one clip (which ended up being a teaser that showed everything)

im almost grateful to the minimal screen time ekko got bc they didn't try to change the core and essence of who he was in s1: he stayed true to himself. he's just a boy with a huge heart and love for his people that chose to leave his happy ending in an alternate timeline to return to the ppl who needed him where he is almost guaranteed heartbreak in some way or another.

i think the main reason so many ppl loved the first season was bc the characters were relatable in one way or another and they became so multidimensional when you explored how their environment/circumstances shaped them. but this season bc it was so purely focused on the endgame instead of HOW everyone got there, the characters fell flatter, they lost a soul and heart, and i felt the show lost its charm.

i know we all have our favourite characters and storylines we want the show to focus on and i would have been okay if i didn't get my way. if the show didn't focus on jinx and vi, i would've lived (although the promotional material was unfairly misleading) if the storylines, characters, and everything else made sense to me.

of course, the animation was lovely and the music was catchy/heartbreaking. i dont regret watching the show out to its final episode. it was one of the most beautiful visual experiences of my entire life. i still love the characters and will never regret staying on board until the final moments.

but i cant lie and say im not a little sad at how it ended too.

edited add-on:

also, the voice actors did phenomenally. ella purnell just absolutely nails the delivery for every line and reed shannon also hurt me with how he portrayed ekko. so on and so forth.

but that being said, i also felt the dialogue and lines of each character felt much less impactful this season (again, writing.)

i liked viktor’s monologue at the end of act 2. that was compellingly well written

but the lines this season weren’t the same quality as silco’s monologue about drowning, jinx’s speech at the beginning of the doomed tea party, etc. everything just felt so flat and shallow this season overall.

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toytle · 8 days ago

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INTERNATIONAL FOLLOWERS!

i am now offering a cheaper alternative shipping option for my arcane scars prints!

instead of shipping your order as a parcel, i can package it in the form of a letter to decrease shipping costs. the print(s) will be sandwiched between 2 boards to prevent bending and sealed in a plastic casing to protect from weather damage. i hope this can begin to combat the ridiculous shipping prices you guys have to deal with!! 😓

#arcane #caitvi #jayvik #arcane merch #arcane fanart #toytlebox

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bwat5-blog · 5 months ago

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Always With You: Vi and Jinx Part 2

**Spoilers for All of Arcane**

The beginning of season two picks up with the direct aftermath of the cataclysmic event that concluded season 1. We have followed the tale of these sisters as their lives were torn apart by greed and violence. We watched as Vi threw herself headfirst at every obstacle trying to get back to Jinx, and as Jinx battled her inner demons and the manipulations of those around her. We watched them coming so close to reuniting, only for it all to fall apart.

Season two leads directly into the aftermath of that end, with Vi no longer able to deny who her sister has become, and Jinx feeling that she has finally lost everyone and everything.

Adrift:

Vi-

In the aftermath of Jinx's attack on the Piltover Council, Vi is holding on by a thread. Seven years spent dreaming of getting back to Powder, making things right, being a family again. And instead she found that her sister had become something darker, and far more dangerous...Jinx. Her every attempt at saving her had failed and to make things even worse, by convincing Caitlyn not to shoot at Jinx, that mercy had repaid by Jinx's attack, killing Caitlyn's mother.

Vi tells Caitlyn she has to go with them to apprehend her sister, but balks when Caitlyn tells her the only way is to become an Enforcer. Even with all that has happened Vi will not wear the uniform that symbolizes so much loss and pain for both she and her people. She only relents after the attack on the memorial, when is no longer any chance of peace.

Now, obviously we are focusing on the relationship between Vi and Jinx, but Vi's time as an enforcer is the driving incident in she and Jinx's next big encounter, so let’s take a moment and talk about "Enforcer Vi"

This part of her story has drawn a lot of criticism of her character, with her being called everything from a traitor, to a bootlicker and worse. I have seen people suggest she simply did it for the crush she has on Cait, who she has only known for a short time, or because she gave up on her sister. However, when we take the entire picture in account, what we find is not a woman betraying her last living family for a "schoolgirl" crush. We find a woman who defines herself by her fight for those she loves, grasping desperately at the last fleeting options left to her:

Retaliation from Piltover is coming. That is not a question, and it is not a debate. Especially after the attack on the memorial. The strike team is an alternative to a full scale invasion.

2. Caitlyn shares her fears with Vi that if she goes after Jinx alone, one of them will die. Remember what I said, Vi is trying desperately to hold on to the last few options she has left to protect those she loves. She feels both responsible for what Jinx has done, and guilty for what she became, as well as loving and wanting to protect Caitlyn. and Caitlyn is telling her one of them will die if Vi does not go. For someone like Vi who places all her self-worth in her ability to protect, there is only one choice

3. "You Don't Get To Be Selfish".. putting on the uniform of an Enforcer is a violation of Vi's very person. They took her parents from her, they were the source of fear and oppression throughout her years with Vander, and they were the source of abuse and pain in Still Water. To wear their symbol and commit violence in the streets of her childhood is a violation of everything Vi believes. So why do it? To protect Caitlyn, and because no matter the outcome, no matter what it means at the end, no matter how badly it hurts Vi, she sees this as her last way to honor her responsibility to her sister, even if she can't save her

Side Note: Before we move on to Jinx during this period, a small reminder. I and many others have touched on this a lot, but the fandom has entirely lost their minds regarding the actions of the strike team.

The use of the grey while disturbing, and a perversion of Caitlyn's families good works, is not nearly what people have made it out as. It’s not Sarin. We see many, many characters exposed to it some for lengthy periods and no one has died. As Vi explains, they used it to clear the streets to try and keep innocents out of the fighting. And as Jinx's favorite routine is to blow things up, this seems reasonable.

The Strike team goes into Zaun with 3 objectives. Dismantle shimmer, apprehend Jinx, and eliminate agents still loyal to Silco. So, in essence, catch and destroy chem barons who are still trying to control the undercity through violence and drugs, destroy an illegal highly addictive drug operation that mutates many of its users, and apprehend the woman who at this point has proven herself to be unquestionably a threat.

Jinx:

In the wake of all that has happened, Jinx is alone. Every person who has ever been close to her, has died or left. In the wake of Silco's death the barons have fallen to infighting and the undercity is in chaos. Vi is gone, again. And her attack on the council has brought the wrath of Piltover down on the undercity, prompting a call for her to be turned over to them. She has given up. During her first meeting with Isha, what does she say to the little girl she just saved?-

"you feel it.. that buzzing behind your eyes? Because you know in a moment it could all.. pow!.. best feeling in the world"

She then gestures to the wanted poster of her saying "that's me, you ever need to curse a sibling, a family or a society.. my card!"

Vi's loss is easier for us to connect to. It's not that she hasn't made mistakes, but her motivation and her intention are unclouded by the issues Jinx has. Her motivations and feelings right or wrong, are much more straightforward.

Jinx is different. Everything from her cocky theatrical attitude to her clothing is loud and dramatic ,and it all draws attention away from the absolutely crushing pain this tortured young woman is going through. Until now. No Silco, no hex-tech, no Vi.. wandering alone through the undercity with no one to perform for.. And what has she told us? She is ready to die, and she has cursed everyone and everything in her life.

When Sevika asks her plan, she responds "Let it all burn"..

This only changes when the strike team comes for her. We see the heart wrenching reaction realizing that it's Vi wearing the uniform, storming their old hideout from when they were kids. Now, when Vi and Jinx see each other again, Jinx attacks her verbally over this. Lashing out from a "moral highroad".. But I think what is really happening here is that Jinx feels her sister would only have put on that uniform if she had truly driven Vi away forever. In her mind, she has officially lost the last person who there was a chance could love her. Running out into the street coughing and gasping, she is attacked by Smeech and subsequently saved by Sevika. We are given two important character points here I want to touch on:

"Everyone who gets close to me dies"- like the words Vi eventually says "I choose wrong every time" this is Jinx's negative core belief. If we think back to the beginning of their story, with Mylo teasing her and calling her a Jinx, she has truly come to believe she is exactly that, bringing death and misfortune on anyone who gets too close. From her childhood until now, we need to inventory what has occurred to reach the point that she has truly come to believe she is a curse on everyone who knows her:

Loss of her birth parents

Loss of Mylo, Claggor and Vander all of whom she blames herself for

Loss of Vi: This is obviously complex, Vi hitting and yelling at her but then her thinking Vi was dead. Lot of conflicting emotion

Killed Silco: Of course, the truth of her relationship with Silco was extremely toxic but she still loved him as a father

Feeling of total rejection by Vi

2. "It was something I could fix"- Jinx quietly took this on herself to try and make something right by replacing Sevika's arm. It's a small thing and blown by fairly quickly given all the other stuff going on at this point. But it's a small nod to the fact that Jinx is not totally lost.. there is still someone in there who considers the cost of her actions and wants to make things right.

Ultimately, due her heartbreak and rage and her total and complete loss of her family, she declares her plan to finish what's left of her family.

Battle of The Ventilation Chamber:

Vi- In an emotional moment before it all goes wrong, Vi has a conversation in which she states "My sister, is gone. There's only Jinx now, it has to end." it should be noted that this is not a "bad-ass" revenge mission. This isn’t the heroic final confrontation and the show doesn't treat it as one. While Caitlyn has been growing darker, and more violent as their work has gone on, Vi has watched as the last person she had left she has left loses herself more and more. Vi is emotional, and she is frightened of what she may have to do and what's happening to Caitlyn. But she has reached the point where she doesn't feel she has a choice.

I recently had a discussion with another user in which they questioned how Vi could ever reach a point that she was ready to kill Jinx. I have thrown lists at you all throughout this post and part 1 so I'll spare you. But what it boils down to is this. Vi cannot reconcile that her sister, and Jinx are the same person. At this point in the story, she cannot look at Jinx and see Powder after a lifetime of trauma and guilt and inner pain. As she tells Jinx before the fight kicks off “.. done pretending you’re my sister you’re not. You killed her. I’m not gonna let you stain her memory anymore”. Now of course at the heart of it, Vi is wrong. That is still her sister... But as I have touched on repeatedly in this two part deep-dive, Vi doesn’t see what we get to see.

Take the bridge attack from season 1:

What does Vi see- After running onto the smoking bridge, covered in wounded and dead enforcers from Jinx’s attack, Vi goes to Caitlyn and in relief she is okay and starts to help her up. As she is doing so, the little sister she fought so hard to come back to materializes out of the darkness and opens fire, nearly killing them both

What we got to see- Jinx trying to silence Mylo’s hallucination and reassure herself that Vi was saying goodbye to Caitlyn and won’t leave her again. We see that she only attacks the bridge when she realizes the stone is there. The same stone that is the symbol of Silco’s acceptance, and remembering her deep fear of being alone or abandoned if she is deemed weak or not useful, we understand she has no choice but to get the stone back. At this point we have already seen her hallucinations when she sees Caitlyn’s face, and we know that Silco and Sevika have intentionally used Caitlyn’s presence to drive a wedge between Vi and Jinx (with Sevika intentionally doing it to destabilize Jinx’s mental health). And we see the look on Jinx’s face after her fight with Ekko... she almost killed her sister, and she and her childhood best friend almost killed one another... before she pulls the pin...

As stated, my purpose here is not “Team Vi” VS “Team Jinx”. That’s not the point of this story at all. So while it’s true that Vi’s inability to see her sister in Jinx has pushed Jinx further into the dark, and that Jinx’s inability to quell that darkness in her has made her a monster in Vi’s eyes, ultimately what it comes down to is seeing these sisters who once were so close, pushed to the breaking point by a world that never gave them a chance.

We come now to the tragic but inevitable violent clash between the sisters. They are in a massive chamber with pillars Jinx has painted with scenes of their childhood. As is her way, they all seem to portray Vi in a more sinister way, and when Vi sees them, she tells Caitlyn "take the shot". This is the first time we hear Vi call her Jinx to which she responds, "Finally got the name right". They verbally snipe at each-other, and finally the fight starts after Caitlyn takes the shot.

This whole scene is aesthetically breathtaking between the music and the animation and garnered a lot of praise as it deserved. But in the story, this moment is heartbreaking. For everything that's happened, this is the first time we see Vi and Jinx truly trying to harm one another. I have seen a lot of commentary regarding a moment where they were "sister fighting" suggesting how unserious they were. And while it is very true that as the fight goes on, we see the horror of what they are doing to one another start to register, Jinx opens the fight full blast with her Gatling gun which Vi shortly rips in half. They are not playing. But as the fight continues, we do start to see that realization dawning on them of how far this has gone.

Jinx looking up at Vi after Vi rips her gun in two:

2. Vi catching Jinx when she is about to fall dangerously far, note how she is holding her for the briefest moment

3. Vi's face when she hears her little sister say she is ready to die, and that she's glad it's VI

Eventually it comes to a head when Caitlyn shoots one of Jinx's fingers off and Vi pins Jinx by the neck to a stone altar. Jinx reaffirms what she has already told us "Go on. I'm ready... I'm glad it's you... it had to be you..." as she goes from angry and struggling to letting her eyes close. The rage leaves Vi's face and transitions into a heartbroken shock as her hand falters. Grief and anger play out on her face before seeming to work herself back up to finishing it, until Isha jumps in the middle and stops everything by pointing a gun in Vi's face. Ultimately because of how it plays out, we will never know if Vi would have done it. I see it as equally likely she was going to scream and smash her hand down on the side, as we saw her starting to see Powder in Jinx’s face during that moment.

Of note, the second that gun is in Vi's face Jinx looks scared and shouts "NO!"

After Caitlyn shoots Isha's gun from her hand Vi looks down at this child protecting Jinx in shock and confusion... you recall I mentioned Vi had not seen a moment of good in her sister since she came home.. seeing this vulnerable little girl risking her life to protect her I think made Vi question everything right then in that moment. We then see the way Jinx is looking at Vi.. who protected them... Like for the first time in a long time, both are seeing who they used to know.

Turning Their Backs on the world:

I have had trouble finding a straight answer on exactly how long passes between the end of Act 1 and the beginning of Act 2, but most seem to agree its anywhere from 6 months to a year. And in that time the sisters have fallen into very different lives.

Vi:

For the first time, we are seeing Vi in total freefall. She has always had a reason, always had a purpose. When she was a teenager, she lived to protect Powder and the others, and make a better life for them. When she was in prison, she lived to see Powder again and make things right. And when she couldn't save Jinx and joined the strike team, she lived to protect Caitlyn and end Jinx's threat. But she couldn't save her sister, and Caitlyn betrayed her. Everything Vi believes in, every core tenant, every lesson she has tried to honor have all been shattered. And for all the blood, and bruises, and broken promises, she has nothing, and no one. And we see her self-destructing. She seems strong at first, winning fights and looking immensely strong, but that quickly devolves until she is curled up alone, dreaming that the first hope she'd known in seven years still loved her.

Jinx:

Jinx in the meantime has been living quietly with Isha in her hideout and found a measure of peace. We learn she has not been seen in public in months, but between her attack on Piltover's council, and their attempts at demonizing her to have the undercity cooperate, she has become a symbol to the citizens of Zaun, although she wants nothing to do with it. We see a much gentler side to her, playing with Isha, dying her hair. and we have a revealing conversation here that shows us she is more at peace than before.

Jinx shares that her name used to be Powder, when she was a kid.. and that being with Isha is reminding her of Powder. And even more telling, she declares "Jinx is dead!"

-- In a way, the sisters are going through similar journeys at this time in their lives, Jinx is just at a different stage. While Vi has lost everything and is struggling to find the will to keep living, Jinx has come out the other side of that... learning to be someone new with Isha by her side. Although I think we were cheated out of a conversation where it was mentioned, it does seem clear to me that through taking responsibility for the younger girl, Jinx starts to understand Vi more than she ever did.

We see when Sevika returns to try and force Jinx into attending the rally, Jinx has a moment where the glitches return, but she stops it saying Silco shouldn't have died if he wanted her to be his symbol. She goes to see Silco's chair, speaking like he was there, saying she knows she probably owes him the revolutionary role but is afraid to mess up she and isha's peace, and mourns his loss

Jinx does not owe Silco anything... But even with progress she has begun to make her guilt over what happened lingers. However, what is important to recognize is this. During all of season 1, the influence and manipulation of Silco and Sevika kept Jinx from reuniting with Vi, from finding the peace she so clearly needed. Now that Silco is gone, she resisted. She even says at one point that her head is much quieter since Silco died.

Finally, Jinx is forced back into the world, when Isha is taken at the rally. When Sevika tells her, we see a glimpse of that darkness in her, hearing the specters and seeing Silco. Until it ends and she and Sevika set off.

There of course two big moments for her character on the mission:

While at the prison for Isha, (which lets be clear, she went for Isha), she releases the others taken in the rally. They begin to gently touch her shoulder in thanks, and in the beginning, she appears nervous, like a trapped animal. Until she realizes they meant no harm, and the music shifts as her eyes soften. And what is the music giving us? "Dear friend across the river".

Her reunion with Vander- Not a lot to say in terms of character at this moment, but it literally impacts the rest of the story.

For Vander:

The Sisters are reunited when Jinx comes to Vi, both much changed. Vi is understandably extremely aggressive with Jinx, especially when Jinx brings up Vander. But the changes in Jinx seem to register with Vi, enough to let her guard down, at least enough to hear what Jinx has to say.

Jinx in general just seems calmer and even tempered, trying to nervously joke with Vi

Does not try to fight back when Vi grabs her

starts crying while Vi is choking her

We must remember that the last time Vi saw her little sister they quite literally tried to kill one another. These small changes, perhaps coupled with an unspoken joy to have her sister back, and Vi follows. As they travel, there are several key points we want to discuss:

Seeing the painting: There is a moment where Vi sees the painting in the undercity, depicting Jinx in a heroic pose with Vander behind her, and no sign of Vi on the image. Vi looks almost indignant while Jinx gives a cocky smirk. It's not mentioned again, but my assumption would be that Vi is looking at, seeing herself left off, and her feelings are hurt. Jinx helped flood the lanes with shimmer, helped Silo who of course killed Vander, and Vi is forgotten. Although hardly fair, I think is a part of Vi realizing the potential of who Jinx can be. No matter what the past was, her sister seems to have become someone other than a creature of the dark for their people.. “maybe we can rewrite your story.. like you did with Zaun”.

The Sisters Bicker. They go back and forth insulting each other’s weaponry, mental state that sort of thing. Jinx throws the enforcer thing in Vi's face again and they bicker-fight leading to Isha getting smacked after getting in the middle of it again. I think the key take away here is they were able to fight and it is SO MUCH different than before. They weren't trying to kill one another.

Vi sees Jinx tending to Isha. Vi watches as Jinx tends to Isha, comforting and checking on her, and she seems almost angry, but I believe she is more conflicted… Vi is seeing the actual person in Jinx. Not the persona but the young woman underneath, and slowly it’s these changes that make her start to see her sister is still in there… (For all the “Vi is seeing how she should have treated Powder” people, go back and watch every scene of Season 1 Act 1 with them in it other than the single time Vi hurt her, in the literal worst moment of their lives since their parents were killed. No. Just No)

Jinx tells Vi the last time they tried to help Vander alone it all went wrong. Maybe this can be a do-over for them. Seeing this hope in Jinx is huge. She has spent so much time believing all she does is hurt her loved ones, and for the first time we are seeing hope in her. A hope that things can be different. And she brought Vi into that hope with her.

The mining shack. With Vander's letter revealing how things could have gone, we see a bittersweet moment in which Vi tries to bring herself to comfort Jinx but isn't there quite yet.

Vander arrives: Purely story wise these events are all massively impactful. But to speak on Vi and Jinx's relationship. They have not really been at peace since Vi left prison. There has been anger, loss, bitterness and so much grief. But as soon as Vi sees Vander charging, she throws her body in front of Isha without hesitation. She says "He's gonna kill you" not us, not me, you. Vi holds back Vander while Jinx frantically tries to figure out how to help, until the moment comes. Vi is faced with a choice:

Trust Jinx, and potentially die, or don't and potentially kill Vander

Vi drops her gloves...

"I choose wrong every time, and because of it, I've lost everyone"..

"Everyone who gets close to me dies"

In the small glow of Jinx's lighter and the green of Vander’s back, both of these poor women's worst beliefs are wrong... Vi let the heart of hers Vander believed in lead her, she trusted her sister, and now Jinx finds her family alive and embracing one another. Changed. Hurt. But alive and demanding that she join them in a loving embrace. This moment COULD NOT mean more for Jinx and the animation is just gut wrenching. She is so terrified that she has cost one or both of her family their lives in the dark… and then she sees it. They are okay. And they love her.

The Commune:

This nauseatingly brief time as a family all takes place in Viktor’s commune, where they have come to find healing for Vander. It all takes place in a single episode, but what we are seeing is the continuing healing of Vi and Jinx, away from the influence of what drove them apart in the first place. The conflict between Piltover and Zaun. The ongoing oppression of Zaun and deep history of the classist system that has caused so much turmoil is far, far too vast a topic to bring into this in detail. So, I’ll say this. We first met these characters in a clash between the two cities in which they lost their parents. And ever since then, they have not had a moment free of some aspect of that conflict driving them apart, until now. And it is in that quiet that they start to make peace:

Jinx trusts Vi enough to give up her guns when they enter

Vi wants Jinx’s opinion regarding if they should stay to help Vander

Vi wants them all to stay and be a family

(Pointed out by another user and god I love this point)- When Jinx is telling her joke to Isha, she doesn’t identify Vi as an enforcer. She calls her a sentimental ex con..

Vi trusts Jinx with the plan to save Vander even over telling Caitlyn about Jinx’s involvement

Jinx saves Caitlyn’s life: I mean… I don’t really think there is way to overstate the significance of this.

Of course, because of the arrival of outside influences over which the sisters have no control, all falls to death and destruction. They lose Vander again… and Isha. And we see them for the last time this act as Vi, who at the end of Act 1 almost killed her sister, throws her body over Jinx shielding her from the blast.

To see them have their family back only to have it be ripped away so quickly… I think we all had the same reaction. It’s extremely difficult to watch Jinx hugging Vander while Vi treats us to a rare genuine smile of relief, only for it all to fall away so quickly. It wasn’t what we wanted. But I believe that through the bond they share Jinx and Vi are made stronger through their brief time in this place, ultimately closing in on the path to becoming who they are meant to be.

Back in Piltover:

Act 3 begins with the final fight mere days away after they have all returned to Piltover in the wake of the Communes destruction. I have had trouble finding an exact time frame for how long it’s been but the very least I would venture it has been close to a week. Whatever Vi’s exact injury was she has been unconscious the entire time, healing in Caitlyn’s bed. Her hair seems longer and most of the black has been cleaned away. Jinx on the other hand, has deteriorated. Her hair is unbound, she will not eat, and she is picking at her skin in the dark of the bunker cell while Caitlyn waits for Vi to wake up.

We are given a scene with each of the sisters apart from each other first that are significant here, followed by their reunion:

Vi-

First and foremost, when Vi wakes up and asks where the others are yes she asks for Caitlyn first (aww) but then when she asks about her sister, she asks for Jinx. Not Powder. She isn’t using the name in anger, or fear, but out of concern. We watched over the course of act 2 as Vi was able to start seeing the person underneath the “character” of Jinx, start seeing the truth that she still has a sister. It’s a quick moment but one noteworthy in terms of her acceptance of who her sister has become.

This only continues during her confrontation with Caitlyn. Upon learning Jinx is in jail Vi comes to her defense and she and Caitlyn talk things out to a point. The primary meaning in this moment is between Vi and Caitlyn, but in Vi’s spirited defense of her sister we see a few clear points all lending itself to her learning and believing that Jinx has changed, all concluding in the question she leaves hanging in the air “Who decides who gets a second chance”

Jinx-

We find Jinx in a terribly dark state. She is damaging her skin, she won’t eat, her hair is bedraggled and unkempt. As some users have pointed out the thick string of her shirt has been removed suggesting either an attempt at self-harm or at the very least concern over it. Having come so close to a happy family again, to having some sense of regaining what she blamed herself all her life for destroying, only to have it all destroyed again seems to have driven Jinx into an empty darkness we have not seen her in.

Now, we have seen her lost and having given up before. In the wake of Silco’s death and her attack on the council she wandered the undercity lost and without purpose seemingly hoping to die. But this is different, it is quieter. It is the hollow emptiness of grief, not the chaotic fury of self-loathing. And the difference matters. The tragedy of Isha’s death is a wave that almost swallows Jinx completely as we will come to see, but in that loss, she has also been severed from Silco’s shadow and by extension the “symbol of Jinx”. All that’s left is the person, and we watch as she and those who love her help that person wake up and swim to the surface. Before she and Vi see each other again she has two important conversations in this cell:

Caitlyn comes to feed her. This is a rather short exchange for these two women whose lives have impacted each other so much yet spoken so little, but its incredibly important. After being confronted by Vi, being forced to question who deserves a second chance, Caitlyn demands Jinx try to account for her actions. Caitlyn also in this moment gives away the fact that she sees the common ground between them, realizing they have both done terrible things. And we have the moment Jinx in her way, apologizes to Caitlyn. She admits it would not have made a difference, but she didn’t know her mother was there. Now I have seen some conversation regarding this, suggesting that Jinx is saying she would have done it anyway because she didn’t care. That is clearly incorrect. Jinx is looking back and realizing that at that moment, she was lost. She isn’t the same person anymore, but she is able to see now how lost she truly was.

She is finally visited by “Silco” in this moment and this “conversation” marks the turning point for Jinx’s character. All of the dialogue from this entire moment is amazing but what it boils down to, is Jinx realizing the only way forward is to break the cycle. Silco speaks on the prisons we create for ourselves out of the identities we cling to, the “symbol of jinx”… at that the only way the killing stops, is to walk way. To end the prison of who she thinks she is supposed to be and end the cycle

Never Giving Up:

Vi comes rushing to Jinx’s cell once again calling her sister Jinx, accepting who she is. She has taken the keys and intends to free Jinx, with hopes of helping her rewrite her story like she did in Zaun. Jinx only responds in a muted fashion but Vi rushed into the cell and embraces Jinx tightly crying. Jinx’s eyes soften for a moment before she says softly “Your never gonna give up on me… are you” before striking Vi in the stomach and locking her in the cell. As Vi tries to stop her and Jinx vanishes slowly into the dark, Jinx tells her “You don’t have to worry about me anymore… you don’t have to be feel guilty about being happy. You deserve to be with her… there’s no good version of me… break the cycle…” leaving Vi screaming in the cell.

Vi-

This is obviously a very heavy and bleak moment between the sisters. With everything they have been through, Vi has fully come to love, accept and trust her sister again. And this reversal of her attempt to rescue her is jarring and extremely upsetting. As she tells Caitlyn later, she truly believed Jinx would help them. Would stay. And here’s the thing that we as the audience know but Vi doesn’t. Vi was right. She was right to believe in her sister, right to see Jinx’s potential and not stop loving her. But was the lesson that is so hard for Vi to learn that this all leads up to, is that you can’t save someone who isn’t ready to be saved. Vi loves Jinx with all that she has, but Jinx isn’t a place mentally and emotionally to process and receive that love quite yet. So yes, Vi could have somehow hulked out of the cell and chased Jinx down somewhere. But it wouldn’t have mattered.

I had a conversation with another user a few posts back who asked for my thoughts on this moment. I don’t know if any of you have ever loved an addict in any way, romantic partner, sibling, parent what have you. But you can’t make them get better. You can scream at them, hit them, hug them, hold them down and beg them and all in all at the end of the day until they are able to turn that corner in their mind it won’t matter. Not because they don’t love you, but because they have to start loving themselves enough to see the hope you have for them themselves.

Jinx-

I saw a recent quote from one of the showrunners, saying they focus on characters who do the right things, for the wrong reasons, to make them so compelling. This is a classic example. As we will come to learn, everything that Jinx’s mind projected as Silco in that moment, was correct. The only way for any of them to find peace is to walk away. To break this never-ending cycle. We know what she is going to do, and thankfully that she is stopped, but another major factor here is what she says to Vi. I have seen this conversation twisted into every possible way- “oh she is clearly pushing Vi away and clearly going to hurt herself, Vi should have gnawed her way out of the cell like a badgermole and swooped Jinx up while Piltover burned! “(or some other insane nonsense). But those people are missing perhaps one of the most loving moments between the sisters since they became adults.

Jinx is not pushing Vi away. She is trying desperately to give Vi the permission she knows Vi can’t give herself to be happy. Yes, in this moment by “breaking the cycle” Jinx is intending to end her own life. But she is also freeing Vi of the cycle of guilt that has tortured Vi since they were children. As horrific as it all was, I think losing Isha, feeling that guilt for that younger girl she loved and tried so hard to protect, gave Jinx an understanding of Vi and the pain she has carried all these years. And in what she planned to be her final words to Vi, begged Vi to accept the happiness and love Jinx knows she deserves.

Never too late to build something new:

In the brief time between their conversation and the final battle, the sisters are once again separated for a time. The aftermath of what in that moment felt like it could be the last time they saw eachother still heavy on them both. We sit with each of them, seeing the moment they are each faced with a choice, break the cycle, or let it end:

Vi-

Caitlyn finds an understandably extremely upset Vi in Jinx’s cell, knuckles raw and bleeding. Vi emotionally admits to freeing Jinx, lamenting that she truly thought Jinx would help them and finally giving voice to her negative core belief – “I choose wrong everytime, and because of it… I’ve lost everyone”. Vi is a warrior. She has been since the beginning of the show and that has remained a core character trait. But it’s not her ability to do violence that makes her who she is, it’s her heart. It’s her unending belief in those she loves and their potential. But, the hardship and pain she has gone through have robbed her of seeing those same things in herself, that she fights so hard to protect for others. And it is in the aftermath of her sister’s departure, and the realization that Caitlyn not only is still there for Vi, but has laid down her hatred knowing that Vi was going to do this and giving her the chance to, that Vi has a choice:

Continue the cycle, ignore her love for this woman and caitlyn’s love for her and hunt down Jinx, knowing that they all may die tomorrow- “When people look up to you, you don’t get to be selfish”

Accept that she cannot save Jinx if Jinx isn’t ready to be saved, and fall into the arms of the woman she loves for the first time choosing herself, and her happiness- “you don’t have to be feel guilty about being happy. You deserve to be with her”

And because of Jinx, for the first time since we have seen her, Vi chooses happiness and love for herself, rather than continuing to try and bare the pain of those she loves.

Jinx-

*Disclaimer*: I’m going to be honest with you all, I think this is one of the moments they really undercut with the rushed pacing of season 2. I understand through implication and context what the missing pieces were. But Jinx deserved more time for us to see how Ekko brought her around, and how she rallies the undercity. Also I know this GIF is not this moment but I couldn't find what i wanted and i think it has the right feel for them

We find Jinx destroying the remnants of who she has been. Burning the Last Drop, cutting her hair, the haunting lyrics of please let me go behind her we are watching as she is dismantling the prison of who she is piece by piece. All culminating in her standing on the rooftop, setting off the monkey bomb before Ekko stops her and eventually talks her down enough (after a series of attempted suicides) for him to tell her, “it’s never to late to build something new”.

Now this all connects to Ekko’s AU adventure, and we aren’t getting into that here, because that Powder is not our powder. But the importance is that Ekko had previously given up on Jinx. Even in the face of Vi’s insistence that she could be saved, Ekko denies her again and again. But during the fight on the bridge in season 1, we see that moment of tenderness between them. And then in the AU, Ekko has come to believe in the possibilities of the future again, in the possibility of Jinx’s future.

The Final Battle:

The battle spreads all across the city and there is a lot that could be discussed. But keeping to our sisters, first we need to talk about Vi. All throughout this post and the one before it, I have tried to convey my belief that Vi has been finding the value in herself other than her ability to harm. She has been on a journey that has changed her tremendously in many ways, not the least of which being she has gone from that angry young teenager who didn’t view herself as someone worth of being protected, but was prepared to fight and bleed to protect others, to someone who was able to choose happiness, to see the value in a part of herself not meant to take a blow. All of that to say, it is interesting that the character who has been known for her fighting the entire show, appears the first time in the war not throwing punches with the enemy, but carrying a wounded person out of the firing line as buildings collapse. Her first action in the biggest conflict of the entire show, is to save a life.

We do also have the moment where she sees Gert’s blue hair and is clearly afraid it may be Jinx before the helmet comes all the way off

Jinx’s Arrival-

Things are dire. Vi and her forces are being overrun by the Noxian shimmer-hulks, Caitlyn and Mel are facing Ambessa while their enforcers are on their knees, when Jinx rides in on a war balloon (apparently what her hideout has been this entire time) leading the firelights and the undercity to war. This is a fantastic moment for many reasons but in keeping with our purpose here I want to discuss a few things:

Validation of Vi’s belief- When Vi freed her from the cell, Vi had fully come to trust Jinx again, seeing the woman her sister had become, and not as some stranger. And when Jinx left Vi was devastated. But in this moment Vi’s belief and faith in her sister are proven correct, for both of them

Jinx’s Balloon bears tributes to her loved ones: Vi’s bunny rabbit that she gave Jinx before trying to turn herself in, small dolls for both Mylo and Claggor, and Isha’s bunny ears.

Because we essentially jump from Ekko barely managing to talk her out of committing suicide to her arrival here, unfortunately there is some speculation required as to how exactly that transition went down. I see this as Jinx finally beginning to step into who she is meant to be. Not the shattered ghost of Powder, and not Silco’s terrorist daughter. Her own person. She wears Jinx’s colors and comes in blasting music and colorful smoke, but her whole demeanor is much more calm and under control. That cocky smirk when Ambessa sees her somehow reminiscent of when we first saw her giving Sevika the same look in season 1, but Jinx feel so much more grounded and adult. Ultimately after a series of coming to each other’s rescue, it all results in the two sisters, back to back, standing in the wreckage of the hex-gate preparing to do battle with what used to Vander. Before the fight starts, Vi sprints to Jinx and lifts the rubble off of her saying “I guess you shouldn’t have come back” and Jinx says “Still don’t get it, huh sis? I’m always with you, even when we’re worlds apart”

Jinx’s Sacrifice/The End:

The rest of the fight goes in with the degree of epic insanity we have come to expect in this show but ultimately it all ends, with two sisters, and their father. When Viktor and Jayce vanish Jinx, Vi and “Vander” come crashing down in the rubble. Jinx lands higher up and looks down over Vi and “Vander” calling for Vi to move before it all breaks apart.

Okay, I have covered this moment in a variety of posts, so for those keeping up with my blathering, I apologize. But A- people continue to completely miss the point here, and B- this is actually quite relevant for what occurs next. So when we see Vi, tearfully standing over “Vander” and kneeling down to cup his head in her hands, ignoring Jinx’s calls to move, we need to remember some things. Here is a quick and dirty list of the trauma Vi has survive up until now:

According to Arcane Wiki Vi was 9 when she saw their birth parents killed

At roughly 15 years old she sees her adoptive brothers violently killed in explosion

Sees a shimmer mutated Vander die under her after saving her life

Survives seven years in an abusive, violent prison after being locked up without cause starting in her teens

Is wounded countless times over the events of the show at least twice in ways that could have killed her

Almost killed by little sister multiple times before they make peace

Almost kills little sister

Compromises her principles regarding wearing the Enforcer uniform only to be completely abandoned and betrayed

Gets Vander back in severely mutated form

Loses Vander again in truly traumatic fashion

Loses Isha who she had begun to bond with

Severely wounded saving Jinx

Entire battle up until now including seeing Loris die in front of her

Vi is twenty-three at the end of the show. Twenty. Three. She is so young to have suffered so much. And it is quite clear as she starts crying, standing over “Vander” and dropping to her knees, that she has just had enough. We literally see her flashing back to the first time she lost him and it truly seems like she is not even hearing Jinx. When “Vander” attacks, for the first time in the entire show, we don’t see Vi fight back. She crawls back crying and even calls out “Vander!” for him to stop. Until Jinx launches into him, sending them both over the railing.

Vi tries to save her sister, but Jinx seeing that they are all going to be pulled down, repeats her vow to Vi “always with you sis” before knocking the hex stone out of Vi’s remaining gauntlet sending Jinx plummeting down with “Vander” leaving Vi screaming in grief above. We watch as Jinx smiles, a peaceful expression on her face and the animation of her features shifts back to resembling Powder more, and finally as we see a flashback of Vander with the girls when we were little, the bomb detonates.

The End:

Vi-

For so much of this story, Vi was driven by guilt over the horrors of their youth. A life of standing in the breach for others, and no belief in the value of what else she had to offer the world, had left her unable to believe that she deserved to be happy. When she was released from prison, nothing was as she found it, including the sister she came back to save. And although the journey was far from simple, getting to know Jinx as her sister, seeing those parts of her she thought lost, having that all too brief time back together with Vander, and even seeing her sister leading their people in defense of humanity itself, all helped Vi heal from the loss of Powder, because Jinx is her sister now. And Jinx gave Vi something no one else could have. Permission to be loved, and to feel safe. I love Caitlyn and Vi's love story. Truly, I do. I consider their relationship immensely important to the story and plan to give it the same treatment as I have here. But if Jinx had not begged Vi to finally allow herself to know peace, I don't know that she and Caitlyn would have found each other again. And it is because of that happiness, that I believe Vi will find her way through the loss of her sister. Because she isn't alone. She is supported, and she is loved, and she is safe. And rather than seeing Jinx's fate as her failing her little sister, I hope that eventually Vi will see it for what it was. Jinx saw her older sister in need, and became the shield Vi had always tried to be for her, the shield Vi never believed she herself deserved...

Jinx-

Jinx's arc is not finished. I love Vi, and I sincerely hope to see her character again someday, throughout all of her trials and tribulations we watched as she found who she is supposed to be, and found a way to know peace. Jinx has found who she is... I think... but she knew there was no way she could ever find that peace in Piltover or Zaun. There would always be turmoil for her, and by extension for Vi. And Jinx knows Vi could never know peace, knowing she was out in the world all alone... its a hard sacrifice. But it leaves the door open that one day, maybe they can be sisters in the untroubled lives the world stole from them when they were young. it's hard to say exactly what would have become of Jinx had Vi never come back. My thought, is that she would be dead, or something so dark that it would be better if she were... I do not discount that Silco loved her as a daughter in the best way he knew how, but we were watching the erosion of her mind and soul and until Vi arrived, no one challenged it. No one seemed to care. Vi's stubborn, bullheaded unyielding belief in Jinx helped her see that she was not "A Jinx", she was simply Jinx. As I said, the road was clearly far from simple. But at the end of the day, as she reconnected with Vi, and as she came to understand Vi through her relationship with Isha, Jinx overcame those howling demons inside of her, and put to rest her negative core belief:

"Its ALWAYS me.. everyone who gets close to me dies"

With what may have been her last act among the living, Jinx made sure that the person in her life who tried so hard to stand by her side, made it out alive.

If I may, I would call your attention back to the very beginning of these sisters journey together:

There in the wake of the first tragedy, after seeing young Vi standing tall in the horror, holding Powder's hand and trying to shield from from the death all around them, Vi eventually can't take anymore. And what does Powder do when Vi needs her?... becomes her fucking shield. (I'm not crying.. your crying)

It's hard to know what to say after such a devastating and beautiful story... I like most people believe that Jinx is alive, and the evidence is strong to support that. But it doesn't take away from the immense loss these sisters have been through. Unless we are to assume the Caitlyn has shared her suspicions with Vi, Vi believes Jinx is dead. And given everything we know of her character, the painful truth is that Vi will likely carry that guilt in some way for the rest of her days. And after watching them fight so hard to come back to each-other, it is difficult to accept that after everything they have faced, they are still apart. But it is through seeing what they gave each-other, that we find hope for the future...Ultimately, rather it be Piltover or Zaun, In prison or free, dead or alive, the love these sisters have for one another stretches across all worlds..

To anyone who stuck with me on this, thank you. As I have with each of these deep dives I have gained a whole new appreciation for the true beauty of this story and its characters. Keep standing up for stories that matter.

#arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane season 1 #vi arcane #vi and jinx #jinx arcane #powder #arcane #very long post

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