#i will write part two anyways. i just like hearing people's thoughts. we have: silco taking a crack at Vik's mental health

[starrycassi]

An engineer. An assistant. A heir.

Located on my jayvik work for silco au.

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Singed doesn't think too highly of himself.

Maybe he did, once. Young and full of passion, he thought himself the next big thing. A lifetime ago, he’d stared at the mirror and grinned, proudly eyeing the way his Academy badge gleamed under the light of his table lamp. Maybe he was foolish enough to think that it was him, him and his ideas, that would change the world. His days at The Academy are not days he recalls too often.

Then he had a daughter, and his world was reduced to her. Her smiles, and her cries, and the way she said pouted when things didn't go her way. He wanted nothing more than to give her the world. Maybe he would have, had things been different. They weren't.

Sickness came, as sickness does. People bawled, as people do. Colleagues tattled, as colleagues do. Oriana wilted away, as flowers do. Unstoppable sequence of extremely common events. When tragedy makes herself at home, the host tends to believe themselves unique in their suffering. They are not. There has been far too many parents and far too many daughters, and far too many of them have met this exact same path, have stumbled in the exact same rocks and crevices. It is what it is. It is as it should be. Death is inevitable, the sky is blue, water is wet. It is as it should be.

The casket should have been lowered, as caskets are supposed to do. It never was.

And now, Singed doesn't think of himself too highly. He knows that his intellect is unmatched, his skill is unheard of, his knowledge is craved. He is different, better, in a way that not many people are. He is, also, failing.

Oriana's face shows no change when he taps the glass of her enclosure lightly. It is not a surprise.

“Soon, my dear.” He tells his little daisy, staring at the still flesh, the closed eyes. “Do not get impatient.”

She does not answer. He is used to it.

.

Singed is a horrible person.

He knows his morals are skewed. His code of ethics is nothing but a two-page pamphlet with vague drawings of fairies in it. He is, objectively, a bad man. He has aided in the killing, torturing and general misfortune of dozens, if not hundreds, of people. It's not like he's keeping count.

“Did you do build this, boy?”

He knows how dangerous he is, even if the boy seems unaware. Thankfully for the strangely trusting young man, he is many things, but not attracted to children. That is one of the few lines he won't blur. Not because he is a father, or because he particularly cares about the wellbeing of potential victims, or because he feels some sort of empathy for the many, many kids subjected to some sort of abuse in these parts of the underground. Though he does think that it is unfortunate, as everything around here is. No. He simply has never been interested, and that’s that.

The boy —Viktor— comes by. He learns, eager for someone, anyone, to pay attention to him, to his ideas. He is silent in a way that Oriana never was, not when she was awake. At first, it is a practiced, learned quietness. The stillness of the deer who has no other option but to play dead. It evolves. Daily, Viktor starts asking more questions, suggesting more improvements. He starts to smile whenever Rio licks his cheek, batting her away with no real force. He starts to cry silently when he thinks Singed is too occupied to notice, usually while cradling a bruised arm or a broken cane. He starts to pout when things don't go his way, frowning with annoyance at whatever prototype has managed to defeat him today.

Singed wonders if his parents know where their son is, who he is with, what he is doing. Do they care? They should. He will never allow Oriana to be alone, in a secluded cave, with an unknown man and a potentially deadly animal, sometimes for hours on end, when she wakes up.

He doesn't care for the kid, not any more than he does for Rio. He is useful. Smart. Quick to understand, easy to guide. He rolls with the punches that Singed throws him, taking them with an unwavering grace. Eventually, he even learns to punch back.

“That is wrong,” Singed says, eyeing the way Viktor's tiny fingers try to mold the copper, “It is far too cold. If you can't understand thermodynamics, then you should not be on my lab. Ever.”

“I am developing a new method,” Viktor answers, not even turning around to look him in the eye, “If you can not understand innovation, then you should not carry a lab.”

“The correct word in that context would be own, or have. Possess, even. I do not *carry* the lab. It is always here.”

“You understood my idea.” Stubbornly, Viktor keeps on turning the material, making absolutely no progress. “Good enough. For me.”

.

Oriana liked ballet. Fairies. Make up. She was a stereotypical girl, with stereotypical tastes. Singed never cared about it. If she wanted to be a princess, like a hundred girls had wanted for hundreds of years before, who was he to say no?

“If I was, eh, a prince,” Viktor muses, staring into his mug. “I would fill my castle with, how you say? Food. For everyone. Blankits. Water.”

Singed hums, taking a sip of his own mug. The smell of coffee fills the room. His has a drop of whiskey sprinkled in.

“Blankets. Blan-kets. Not lab equipment? Chemical resources? Aluminum, copper, steel parts?”

Viktor imitates his gesture, using the excuse of the drink to think his answer up properly. Singed would be impressed, if he wasn't already aware of how perceptive Viktor is, how quickly he adapts. Chameleon boy and his little cane. Oriana would like him. She will, when she wakes up.

“Well, yes. After I am done feeding all the people. Then, for me, laboratory. And a new bedroom. Big bed. Thick blan-ket.”

.

He asks for parents. Dead father, alcoholic mother. No siblings. The lacking communication skills come from his grandmother, who never learned Piltover common and never explained how she ended up in the undercity. She had raised him, then died. He spoke a fully foreign language at home, which made bonding with other kids even harder. Viktor was ostracized by his circumstances. No one has his back, not fully. No one to stop him.

He offers the spare room on his main sleeping quarters. It is more of a closet than a room, but he brings a new mattress and the fluffiest pillows he can find. A heavy, yellow blanket. His various works pay decently enough for him to feed another mouth. Clothes and necessities can be figured out when the time comes.

If Singed was a better man, he might say that he did it out of care. Or concern. Maybe even out of curiosity.

Singed is not a better man. He did it for the same reason he does everything else. For Oriana.

He is not stupid. The days are passing. His age increases, increases, increases. He isn't any closer to waking her up, and his back is starting to ache when winter arrives. He is getting older, but his daughter is not.

She needs someone else. A brother, if not an assistant. Someone younger than her dad, someone to keep her company in the world. It can not be him, not anymore. His body is starting to resent him from the all-nighters and meal-skippings.

Viktor is not, necessarily, healthy. Or well liked. Not even well known. He has no responsible parents in sight (because, really, how come this child is so often with him?) and no money of his own. Singed could latch onto that. Instead, he thinks of castles with halls full of food, and decides that the way that Viktor will understand is the emotional one.

For all his talk of science and progress, Viktor is a child. Immature and temperamental. He comes with all the downsides of being a child. Fortunately, he brings the upsides, too.

Was Oriana to wake up in the next half of a decade, she would have someone to grow up with. Someone to keep at her side, to play and explore with. Oriana has always been kind. She will slow down, for Viktor, and that will make it easier for Singed to know where she is at. Was she to wake up someday after that, she would have an older caretaker. Old enough to know more about the workings of their environment, young enough to be in the loop of how the external world has changed. Viktor won't live long, not without some tweaks and fixes, but Singed would gladly make the boy a new set of lungs every single month, if it meant that he would look after Oriana.

The decision is taken. He makes sure to keep Rio in her cage. Viktor's attachment to the mutation’s vessel is a problem. Singed is not only a scientist, but a drug-dealer. He's used to solving problems, by now.

.

“Her name is Oriana.”

Viktor gapes at him, eyes wide with far too many emotions for Singed to pinpoint even one. The soft hum of the machines fills the silence for them. A mechanical heartbeat, designed for one person and one person only.

“She is…”

Whatever Viktor is about to say, dies on his lips. He hovers over the glass, careful not to touch, seemingly mesmerized by the body kept inside it. He looks like he's hyperventilating and breathing far too slowly at the same time. Singed considers, briefly, the idea that his daughter will wake up tomorrow and Viktor will be infatuated with her. That would work, too, he supposes. It wouldn't be his favorite option, but it could be manageable.

“Is she… dead?”

Ah. That's it, then. Singed, carefully, turns his words in his brain, making sure to pick and choose them with surgical precision. Viktor is not crucial to the operation, but he could be. He is smart, and lonely, and Singed knows that human nature is not impossible to mold. He could turn Viktor into something vital. He could turn Viktor into someone necessary.

“Medically? Yes. Technically? No. See those tubes? They give her the proper nutrition. The ones over there? They keep her blood flowing, artificially. Much like a water pump. It is only temporary, Viktor. I will wake her up.”

Viktor's face changes. One of the feelings seems to simmer down. He looks less scared. Singed had not realized the boy was even trembling, not until he stops. Was he put off? Probably. Viktor was a scientist, but even great scientist had a weak stomach every once in a while. He will come out of it. Singed will help. Then, Viktor will help Singed. Symbiotic relationships are not a foreign concept, specially not to undercity children.

“How will you get her alive?”

There it is. The exact same moment where the cut has to be made, the spot where flesh and bone leave a gap for a scalpel. Viktor is as much of a scientist as he is a kid, and both those sides are easily swayed with shiny new theories. Singed sees his opportunity and takes it. He talks, and talks, and talks. Curative plants, cell-regeneration properties, necessary sacrifices, nature and evolution and everything he can possibly think of that would appeal to the child. He spews back years of research in a way that would make it impossible to replicate, making sure to leave information out when he deems it necessary. Can't have a preteen run around with your life's work, now, can he?

It doesn't seem to matter. At the end, Viktor's eyes are practically shining. He seems so starstruck. So impressed. So swayed. So convinced.

“Do you understand, boy?” Singed asks, placing the palm of his hand over his daughter's bed. "If you live here, I will ask nothing of you but your help with my investigation for her. When she wakes up, you will be her friend. You will be under my protection. I will feed you and keep you, as long as you comply."

“I don't, eh, understand the theory now.” Viktor answers, voice choked with emotion, gripping his cane. “But I really, really want to. I study. I care for her. I behave.”

“I will teach you, then. You must obey me. Everything I say, yes?”

With far too much convention for a child who hasn't finished dropping his molars, Viktor nods solemnly.

“Yes, sir.”

.

Singed doesn't think too highly of himself. Soon, Viktor starts to share the same idea. His disgust with the man is a river that starts with Rio and never ends.

It's far too late when he realizes that Singed is, truly, a horrible man. He is in it far too deep. Silco tugs at his leash, never pulling, not yet.

Then, he brings in a man. Jayce Talis understands Singed in more ways than one. The theory is complete.

[deathbxnny]

Loved your writing of arcane characters saying things they regret during an argument. Would you be willing to do a version with Jayce, Viktor and Silco? I apologize if you don't prefer to write about these characters, you can ignore this

Arcane men saying things they'll regret during an argument. | Viktor, Jayce, Silco x Gn!Reader

Oh, I absolutely am willing to do that, Anon!! These are going to be pretty irredeemable, though, so there is not going to be a part two to this... anyways, enjoy!!<3

Content: Season 2 spoilers!!, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, break ups, swearing, gaslighting, toxic behavior, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

"This... isn't you anymore, Viktor. A-And I refuse to keep lying to myself like this either!" You hissed out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. You were losing your mind in this compound of his, unable to understand how seemingly no one was able to recognize how wrong everything was. People who were "healed" by him weren't the same after. They turned into robotic and uncanny husks of their old selves.

A terrifying sight that unnerved you deeply. And only you here.

The nail in the coffin was perhaps the skeptical appearance of Councilor Salo. Never in your life had you ever seen him give a damn about anyone but himself. He lived a life of riches and materialism, far from the selfless and minimalistic lifestyle found here. But after your boyfriend healed him of his inability to walk, he suddenly preached the same ideals that everyone else did.

Peace, love, and community.

Those were the important pillars of this idyllic place Viktor had created, and yet you couldn't see past the clear red flags that weaved themselves in their white attire. You were never much of a genius like he was, but it didn't take much brainpower to understand that this was not a great place to be in. No matter how hard he attempted to convince you of that.

"... I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm afraid I can not follow your reasoning for this claim. I am myself... just someone greater. More meaningful. Isn't that beautiful?" His voice was so gentle and patient in comparison to yours. Something that wasn't unusual to him. But the way he used that tone now made you sick. "Terrifying is a better word, actually... Why can't you see that this is just wrong? You're not healing anyone-" "-But I am. Look around you. Is that not enough for you to finally believe me, my love? I want to create a better world... one in which we can live freely together." Your mind spun, his words ringing in your head dangerously. And you hated every second of it.

This isn't the man you loved anymore. He must have died that fateful day when the sky fell from above, and he covered you with his body to save you. His last act of kindness as your boyfriend and lover before he perished and left behind whoever he was. And you'd be damned if the last good memory got tainted too.

"No. I will not let you play with my mind anymore. I've had enough." You pushed past him, wanting to finally escape this borderline cult. Originally, you had only followed after him because you couldn't bear being without him. Jayce was right, though. He really was different now.

"Hm... it seems like I was right about you after all." You stopped in your tracks yet didn't dare face him. "You truly are not worth saving... you can't grasp the beauty of what I have made. I suppose everyone's claims for your low intelligence were, unfortunately, right. What a shame." How could a devil have such a soothing, loving voice? Why did the monster that now lurked in your shadow have to have your lovers face? The cruelty was too much to bear.

Who would have thought that you'd finally leave him for good after all the years you've taken care of him? This moment felt so surreal and yet ironically freeing as well. The end was near. "Did you... ever even love me?" You asked aimlessly, but didn't wait to hear his answer.

Perhaps if you had, however, you would've seen that sudden spark of surprise in his eyes, as you slipped out of his fingers for good at last.

》JAYCE

You had looked everywhere for him. And after also asking everyone under the sun if they had seen your boyfriend, you had eventually determined that he must've somehow gone missing. Worried sick, it pained you knowing that there wasn't much you could do either, considering that everyone was too busy getting ready for a borderline war and Caitlyn became unreachable as a result. Yet just as you began to lose hope, your dear lover finally returned... but he wasn't the same.

He didn't look the same, nor did he act the same, in fact. He looked so different that it even visibly startled you when you found him rummaging through his once shared laboratory. You had just returned from another wrap around the building in hopes of finding it, and whilst you'd consider yourself lucky this time around, all you now felt was genuine dread.

"Jayce...? What happened to you? I looked for you everywhere and-" You stilled at the intense look he gave you, his face flinching for a moment, as though his mind couldn't comprehend your image. Glancing over at his peculiar weapon of choice, you felt unnerved at how even that looked uncanny. The entire situation was unnerving you deeply, to say the least. "You... You shouldn't be here." He finally muttered, his voice deeper and colder than it ever was. Jayce always had such a fun and warm voice. If you didn't know any better, you would've questioned who he was a while ago.

"Hey... tell me where you were, okay?" You said, trying a more gentle approach as you neared him, eyes focused on his clearly injured leg. Had he been kidnapped? You doubted it. So what made him end up like this? Nothing you could come with explained his appearance. His hair and beard were way longer than they should have gotten in the short span of time he was gone, too.

Reaching down carefully, you tried to inspect his leg, but he seemed less receptive to the idea. Or so you assumed, after he shoved you away roughly and held the hammer to your face at impressive speed. His eyes were glossy, as though he wasn't entirely all there. He was reliving a terrifying moment in his mind, unaware of the horror you were going through. Never could you have ever thought of ending up in this position with him. "Jayce! What the hell are you doing-?" "-Get away! I know what you are... you've been sent by him too, weren't you?" You let out a shriek when he swung the hammer at you, only giving you a fraction of a second to jump out of the way.

Falling onto your behind, you quickly crawled backward and away from him, tears welling up in your eyes. Your scream seemed to at least wake him up, though, as he finally lowered his weapon and blinked at you in surprise. "Fucks sake! What is wrong with you?" You yelled out, yet as fast as his face softened, it hardened again. "... Sorry... I need to leave." Quickly making his way past you, he only barely escaped your presence before you grabbed onto the fabric of his pants. "Why? Where are you going? Why can't you tell me anything?"

The look in his eyes made you shrink away. This wasn't your Jayce anymore. "... The future of everyone in Piltover hinges on me being there on time. Now, make yourself useful for once and get out of my way." Shaking you off harshly, he left you crying on the cold floor of the once lively laboratory, not once looking back.

》SILCO

When you first met Silco, you were both still leading simple lives in the last drop with his brother and all of your other friends in Zaun. The lanes were harsh and, at times, cruel, yet you fought through the agony of it all together. Years down the line later, you find yourself still reminiscing on those heavenly days, particularly those of your lover who had turned for the worst in the time being. And the question of why you didn't listen to Vander's warnings came to mind again then. Perhaps you were just too used to excusing everything his brother did, especially after he had attempted to drown him so horrifically, which left him permanently injured.

But even so... why didn't you just listen? Why did it take so many years for you to finally throw the towel and leave for good? Finally realise that the man you loved was a monster? A disgusting and evil monster who was willing to use the plight of others for his own gain. And for what? Money? Fame? Power? It was all an ego trip you had far more than enough of. Zaun was his playground, and an escape was impossible. You'd be, however damned if you didn't at least try to anyways. Even if just in Vander's honor as a long-awaited apology.

Pushing past the crowd in the stuffy, full Last drop, you finally reached his office upstairs. Not caring about formalities anymore, you knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply. If death met you behind it, then so be it. "Ah, darling, in a hurry today, aren't you?" "We need to talk. Alone." Short and straight to the point. Raising a brow, he shared a look with Jinx, who was just done giving him his daily "medicine". Oh, how you hated your lover's dearest creation. Shimmer. The exact thing that had ruined your lives for good. But you pushed away your disdain for the task at hand.

Giving Jinx a dismissive wave of his hand, you waited for her to be gone for good before taking a breath to speak. But Silco beat you to it. Always so painfully perceptive. "The answer is no, if you're here asking to leave. I refuse to let you go, dear. You have no one else but me after all. You wouldn't survive on your own." He always underestimated you, so this wasn't an all to surprising response. And if you were just a couple of months younger, you would have maybe agreed and backed off. But you were sick of his games.

"I didn't come here to ask for permission, Silco. I'm here to say goodbye." The slightest, softest crack at the last word gave you away horribly. You certainly didn't expect your feelings for the man to betray you, but even that won't stop you now. Said man just hummed in response as he stood up to face the window. His hands calmly lit a cigar, very much unbothered. But you knew that your sentence had gotten to him anyway with how his hand shook ever so slightly. Out of anger, most likely.

"So you think you can do whatever you want? Leave after you've spent so many years at my side? Your hands aren't as clean as you think they are, darling. Even yours are a bright violet." A reference to the shimmer vials on his desk. He knew how much you hated it, so this felt like a jab. A jab at the deep guilt you felt every day for enabling the death of all of your friends indirectly. If only you had stopped him from the start... then maybe you wouldn't have to feel the dread that ruined you from the inside anymore.

"I've accepted my flaws and sins a long time ago. I may not be better than you... but sometimes, in order to end the cycle, you have to walk away and leave some things behind." You suddenly felt so content, his cold and terrible words not reaching you anymore. You were so close to leaving. So close to leaving Zaun and Piltover like you've always dreamed. But Silco just scoffed in disbelief.

"Hah, don't give me that self-righteous shit... I've been there for you for so many years, dear. I've taken care of you, fed you, and loved you to my best ability for so long. The least you could do is be grateful for my kindness." "So you think I'm a burden?" The silence was deafening, but it was enough to confirm your long-standing suspicions. He had lost his love for you a long time ago. Perhaps the side that loved you so purely drowned in the river with him.

"... Goodbye. I hope one day you can walk away too." You turned and began walking out then, suddenly realising that it's finally over. Shoving your hands into the pocket of your coat, you felt the ticket for the skyship you had to take. "Don't you dare leave. Don't you dare it-" All bark and no bite as usual. There was no stopping you now, and he knew it. He was letting you go after all. You could just hope that one day he'd listen to your words and end the cycle, too.

What a shame that you won't be there at his side to see it, however... maybe in another life then.