#then trading off with mel and jayce >///<< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[kissingarthurclaus]

OUGGHHH talking to Axel again about hextechule and my s/i going to her first fancy Piltover party with them!! 🥺💖🥺💖🥺 something or other to promote hextech ofc, but she's never been a big fan of that stuff! She's mainly doing it to support her partners and get a little glimpse of the fancy folk in their natural habitat

Mel takes her dress shopping and gets her something that compliments her and fits PERFECTLY and lets her borrow some jewelry, all of them seeing her dressed up like a princess for the very first time...especially Viktor! They grew up together, he knew her when she was a scrappy kid just like him, and now she's a beautiful woman and she's hanging off of HIS arm and he's never been one for these kinds of parties either (he's aching to get back to the lab) but when she's there, everything else falls away. He knows he has someone to RELATE to, from the same ground he was raised in.

We were also talking about my s/i and Viktor eventually wandering off bcs the rich folk are just that dull, and finding the kitchen 😂 Mel and Jayce eventually find us sitting on a counter eating cake with two forks no plates no knives and a dream!

[hy6erion]

Hii! Could I pretty please request a jayce×reader smut. I was thinking about collage!jayce and reader having a game night with friends. In the heat of the moment, playing some game where you are dependent on other's players willingness (like how in catan you can trade with other players or in monopoly you can buy the get out of jail card from someone), reader was really close to winning and just needed jayce to sell her something or trade with her or whatever and said something along the line of "I'll suck you off just trade with me", half joking (everyone laughing, jayce gives in etc...). And after everyone's gone home he's just there like "so... that was a joke, right". Just pathetic desperate jayce because that who he is.

~🍒

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤- 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

⇢𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞!!, 𝐬𝐮𝐛! 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐲 (´ ω `♡) 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐎𝐡𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞....

The apartment is packed, the living room floor covered in game boards, beer bottles, and half-eaten snacks.

The air is thick with the kind of competitive energy that only comes from college students taking a game night way too seriously. You're sprawled out on the couch, eyes locked on the board in front of you, planning your next move with the intensity of someone about to make history.

Jayce is across from you, lounging back against the couch, one arm draped over the cushions, the other lazily holding his cards. He's been giving you shit all night, blocking your trades, refusing to sell you what you need, smirking every time you groan in frustration. Smug, cocky, completely in his element.

You're one move away from winning.

One stupid trade away. And of course, the only person who has what you need is Jayce fucking Talis. You glance at his cards, then at his face, and sigh dramatically.

"Jayce, come on. Just trade with me."

He grins, tapping his fingers against his chin like he's deep in thought, though you both know he's just drawing this out to be annoying.

"Mmm, nah. I don't think I will."

You throw your hands up. "Jayce, be serious. I literally just need that one fucking card."

He shrugs, clearly enjoying watching you suffer. "And I literally just don't feel like trading."

Groans erupt around the room. Vi shakes her head. "Jayce, just give it to her. It's not that deep."

Jayce smirks. "Nope."

You narrow your eyes, leaning forward, playing up the frustration, letting your voice drop into something sweet, teasing. "Jayce," you say, slow, deliberate, "I will literally suck your dick if you just trade with me."

The room goes silent for half a second before erupting into laughter.

Mel chokes on her drink. Caitlyn smacks Vi on the arm, doubling over.

Ekko leans back, eyebrows raised, looking genuinely impressed.

Jayce, though-Jayce freezes. His mouth opens slightly, like his brain is trying to catch up with his body, like the words are sinking in too slow. His eyes flick to yours, and for a moment, you swear you see something shift.

Something desperate, something raw.

But then the laughter drags him back, and he forces out a chuckle, shaking his head like it's nothing.

"You're so full of shit," he mutters, handing over the card with a roll of his eyes. "Fine. Take it. Jesus."

You grab it, grinning, and slam it onto the board. "That's game!" Cheers and groans echo through the room as you throw your hands up in victory, barely catching the way Jayce watches you, barely noticing the way he doesn't laugh as easily as the others.

—

The night winds down after that, everyone packing up, finishing drinks, stretching as they gather their things.

One by one, they leave, Vi and Caitlyn arguing about some rule from earlier, Mel throwing you a knowing look before disappearing out the door.

Jayce is still sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, his hands flexing against his thighs like he's trying to get himself under control. He hasn't moved since the door shut behind your last friend. Just staring, lips parted, golden-brown eyes locked onto you like he's still processing what happened hours ago.

Like he's been waiting.

Like he's barely holding himself together.

You stretch, pretending not to notice the way his gaze drops to the sliver of skin revealed where your hoodie rides up. "Guess I should clean up."

Jayce swallows hard. His voice is rough, low, almost careful when he finally speaks. "So, uh... that was a joke, right?"

You turn, giving him an innocent look.

"What was?"

He drags a hand down his face, groaning. "You know what."

You blink, tilting your head, playing dumb. "You mean when I said l'd suck your dick if you traded with me?"

Jayce actually whimpers.

His head drops back against the couch, his fingers tightening on his thighs, and you swear you see him press his knees together like he's physically trying to stop himself from reacting. He looks wrecked, already ruined, like he's been holding onto the thought all fucking night. His cock twitches in his sweats, barely concealed, already half-hard just from hearing you say it again.

"Fuck," he mutters, eyes squeezed shut. "Don't say it like that."

You bite back a grin, stepping closer, watching the way his breath shudders when you move toward him. "Why not?"

Jayce opens his eyes, and he looks so desperate it almost makes you laugh.

His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his whole body tense like he's about to snap. "Because," he groans, shifting in his seat, looking down at where his cock is already straining against his sweats, "I've been hard since you said it, okay?"

You blink. "Wait."

Jayce groans again, covering his face with one hand. "Since the game."

You stare, heat curling in your stomach. "Jayce."

He lets his head drop back again, groaning into his palm. "Fuck. I knew it. You're gonna make fun of me."

You smirk, stepping between his knees, reaching out to tug his hand away from his face. "Oh, I'm absolutely going to make fun of you."

Jayce lets out the most pathetic little noise, somewhere between a whimper and a plea. His thighs spread wider, inviting, instinctive, like he wants you to take advantage of him. His breath is heavy, ragged, like just the thought of what's about to happen is ruining him. "I-fuck, I don't care. Just-" He swallows, golden-brown eyes flicking up to yours, dark and pleading. "Just, please. Please..."

You drag your fingers down his chest, watching the way his abs tense, feeling how warm his skin is through the fabric. "So desperate," you murmur, grinning.

Jayce nods immediately. "Yeah. Yeah, i'm desperate. So fucking desperate. You've been teasing me all night, and I-fuck-please, just-"

You don't even let him finish before you drop to your knees between his spread thighs. His whole body jerks, a shuddered gasp escaping his lips as his head falls back against the couch.

His hands tremble where they grip the cushions. "Fuck."

You trail your fingers over the outline of his cock, feeling how hard, how thick, how absolutely wrecked he already is. He twitches under your touch, his hips lifting slightly, chasing any friction. "You've been sitting here like this all night?" you hum, pressing your palm down just to hear him whine.

Jayce nods frantically, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "I couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn't stop thinking about you on your knees, about that pretty mouth-oh, fuck-"

You squeeze lightly, watching him tremble. "Then you should've just asked, Jayce."

He groans, his hips bucking up into your touch, his hands fisting the couch like he's trying not to just grab your head and make you take him already. "Please," he begs, voice wrecked, desperate.

"Please, I can't-| need-"

You grin. "You need what?"

Jayce actually sobs. "Please suck my cock."

Who are you to deny him?

—

Jayce is in heaven.

Completely fucking gone, wrecked, brainless with pleasure, golden-brown eyes fluttering shut, his breath coming out in ragged, desperate gasps as you work him over. He's sprawled out on the couch, legs spread wide, hands gripping the cushions like he's barely holding himself together. His body is shaking-tensing and shuddering with every slow, deliberate slide of your lips over his cock.

You hum around him, letting your tongue drag along the underside, teasing, making him feel every inch of it. He chokes on a whimper, his hips jerking up instinctively before he forces himself back down, knowing better than to move without permission.

"F-fuck-" His voice wobbles, high and needy, already so desperate, already so far gone. His fingers twitch against the couch, itching to grab your hair, to pull, to push— but he doesn't. Because you didn't tell him he could.

You pull back slightly, letting his cock slip from your lips with an obscene wet sound, stroking him slow, teasing.

"You wanna touch me, Jayce?"

His head snaps up, nodding frantically, golden-brown eyes glassy, pleading. "Y-yeah-oh, f-fuck-please, please-"

You hum, dragging your fingers up his thigh, tracing patterns against his skin, watching as he shudders, barely able to handle even the softest touch. "Mmm. I don't know, baby. You're not really being patient, are you?"

Jayce whimpers.

Actually, fucking whimpers. His abs clench, his cock twitching against your palm, already leaking, already so fucking needy.

"I-I-fuck—" His breath shatters, his head tipping back against the couch, his lips parting in the prettiest moan as you squeeze around his length. "I'll be good-I'll be s-so good for you, I swear-"

You smirk, dragging your nails lightly over his stomach, watching him suck in a breath, his whole body going tense. "You sure about that?"

Jayce nods frantically, his hands still fisting the couch, his thighs trembling beneath your palms. "Y-yeah-yes, I swear, I swear-p-please-"

You lean in, licking a slow stripe along the head of his cock, teasing him with just the tip of your tongue. His whole body jerks, a wrecked sob breaking from his throat.

"F-fuck-oh, f-fuck-" His voice cracks, completely pathetic, completely desperate. His fingers twitch, but he doesn't move, doesn't touch, doesn't do anything he's not allowed to.

"Good boy," you murmur, wrapping your lips around him again, sinking down, taking him deep, swallowing around him as you feel his whole body seize up beneath you.

Jayce lets out the most broken moan.

His hands fly up— hovering-not grabbing, not pushing, just trembling in the air like he doesn't know what to do with himself. His brain is melting, crumbling, breaking apart at the edges.

"Oh, f-fuck, baby-" His voice is high and breathless, so fucking gone already. His hips twitch, his thighs shake, his golden-brown eyes flutter shut as he lets out the prettiest fucking gasp.

"You feel so good-ohhh-f-feel so perfect, s-so fucking perfect, love your mouth, baby, f-fuck, love you s-so much-"

You hum, taking him deeper, sucking hard, watching his abs flex, watching his head tip back, completely wrecked.

Jayce whines.

Loud, desperate, needy. His fingers twitch in the air before he finally lets them settle on your head, not pushing, just petting, just stroking, his voice breaking as he babbles more nonsense.

"You're s-so good-s-so good to me, baby, s-so fucking perfect, I-love you, love your mouth, I-love the way you— oh, f-fuck-"

His hips twitch forward before he jerks back, groaning, forcing himself still. "S-sorry, baby, s-sorry-f-fuck-w-won't move, I promise-"

You grin around him, dragging your nails down his thighs, watching him shudder, his cock pulsing against your tongue. "You're so obedient," you murmur, voice warm, teasing.

"Such a desperate little thing for me, huh?"

Jayce lets out the neediest fucking moan you've ever heard.

"Yes-ohhh, f-fuck-yes, f-fuck, I'm-" His voice shatters, his hands fisting in your hair, still not pulling, still just holding on for dear fucking life.

He's so fucking close. You can feel it in the way he tenses beneath you, in the way his breath comes out in uneven little gasps, in the way his hips jerk forward before he whimpers, forcing himself back down.

"B-baby, please-" His voice cracks, golden-brown eyes wide and pleading, so fucking gone for you.

"P-please, sweetheart, I-let me cum, please-"

And fuck—

You let him.

[writerbugg]

𝕭𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖉

Yan. Viktor x Reader

Word Count - 9.3K

Some notes. This story should NOT be romanticized, this is one of my darker stories so please read the warning.

The timeline of this oneshot is a bit distortated, I'm spreading some of the events out a bit farthen then they happedn in the og storyline.

The reader is mid-twenties (25-26) in this so there's around a 5 year age difference.

!!Warnings!! - Yan. behavior, Mentor and Apprentice Relationship, OOC, Smoking, Violence, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Unwanted Physical Touch, Guilt-tripping, Panic attack, Mentions of Blood, Injury

Pt.2 (Feat. Yan Jayce) Coming soon...

━━━━━╝✹╚━━━━━

And the world screams,

'Kiss me, Sun of God.'

━━━━━╗✹╔━━━━━

Your breath fogs the window as you rest your head against it. The sun hasn’t risen, yet sleep eludes you. Outside, the world is a mix of cold and silence, but your mind churns ceaselessly.

Three years since you began your apprenticeship under Jayce. In that time, Hextech has advanced beyond anything you could have dreamed.

Piltover has become the heart of progress, its Hexgates connecting nations, "The Center of Trade and Evolution," as Mel once called it.

Yet, for all its brilliance, Hextech remains a paradox to you—a marvel you can admire but never fully understand, much less touch.

Your gaze drifts to the blue orb resting beside you, its pulsing aura whispering a melody you can’t quite discern. Hesitantly, you reach for it, your fingers twitching as the air around the gemstone hums with energy.

You barely graze the pristine blue gem before a sharp jolt shoots through your fingers.

You yank your hand back with a hiss, cradling it to your chest. Blowing on your fingertips does little to soothe the sharp, lingering sting. An exasperated sigh escapes you as you look down at your slightly blistered fingers. This result was expected but still maddening.

For reasons you could not understand, touching Hextech directly always left you burned.

“No progress, hmm?”

The clicking of a cane echoes behind you. Panic flickers across your face as you quickly tuck your hand behind your back and turn around, but it’s too late.

Looking up, you’re met with the unimpressed stare of your mentor’s lab partner.

A nervous chuckle escapes as your cheeks flush with shame. Viktor hobbles closer, stopping in front of you. With a pointed expression, he silently gestures for your hand.

Reluctantly, you reveal your hand from behind your back. Viktor takes it carefully, his touch firm but gentle as his eyes trace the small burns along your fingers.

“You know,” Viktor begins, “it seems counter-intuitive for Jayce to appoint the one person in Piltover incapable of safely handling the Hexcore as his apprentice.”

He presses lightly on one of the burns, making you wince and yank your hand back. You glare at him, but he ignores it.

“Why are you up so early?” he asks. “And meddling with Hextech alone? Jayce has told you many times—it’s reckless, given your condition.”

You shrug, offering no real explanation. The ambiguity earns you a disapproving look, though you catch a glimmer of amusement in Viktor’s expression.

“Jayce is rubbing off on you,” he mutters. “Both of you are hardheaded to a fault.”

Viktor turns and gestures for you to follow him. You comply, trailing him to his cluttered desk. Notes are scattered everywhere, buried under odd trinkets and prototypes.

Reaching over the mess, Viktor grabs a small ceramic jar. Carefully, he removes its glass lid, revealing a clear green liquid swirling inside. Dipping a piece of cotton into the liquid, Viktor takes your hand again, dabbing the burns with a precision that’s almost meditative.

The burns will heal in a few days, fading as if they were never there. Still, this ritual has become a quiet tradition, a bond between you and Viktor—something unspoken yet meaningful.

The door swings open, shattering the tranquility. You immediately sit up straight, pulling your hand away from Viktor.

Jayce enters, his smile as bright as ever, and your stomach flutters as his gaze meets yours.

“Good morning, you two!” he says cheerfully, earning a grunt from Viktor and a wave from you.

“Today’s the day—Progress Day!” Jayce announces, his excitement contagious. “We’re finally going to showcase everything we’ve been working on.” Even Viktor’s lips twitch into a faint smile.

Jayce crosses the room to retrieve the crystal you had touched earlier, carefully placing it back in its case. “We need to get ready. Heimerdinger will be here any moment.”

He turns to you, pulling out a pair of gloves from his pocket and handing them over. “My mother made these,” he admits. “For the presentation. I need my apprentice up there with me, after all.”

You take the gloves, admiring the craftsmanship. “Wait… you want me on stage?” you ask, startled.

Jayce chuckles. “It’s your last year of apprenticeship, Y/N. You’ve proven yourself time and time again.” He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “It’s time you made your debut.”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

“The gemstone is gone.”

❪❂❫

“I have come before you to recommend that we suspend all Hextech operations.”

❪❂❫

“I propose that a new chair be brought forth and that House Talis be elevated to the august body.”

❪❂❫

You lay on the rooftop, staring at the stars above. The events of the day whirl in your mind like a storm. The attack, the stolen gemstone, Jayce’s abrupt decision to shut down Hextech operations without consulting you or Viktor, and his election to the council. It all feels surreal, a cascade of chaos.

“The stars are lovely tonight, no?”

The sudden voice draws your attention. Viktor stands nearby, his gaze fixed on the heavens. Though calm, his posture betrays exhaustion.

He sits beside you, gesturing toward the horizon. “Do you see them? The lights of the Undercity.”

You nod as faint glimmers come into view. “You’re from the Undercity, right?” you ask softly.

Viktor inclines his head. “And that’s why you want to use Hextech,” you continue, “to help them.”

“Yes,” he says, conviction threading through his voice. “I wish to end the suffering of the Undercity. To use our technology to evolve humanity—beyond its limits.”

You place a hand on his shoulder. He stiffens at first but relaxes as your words cut through the quiet.

“Your dream is beautiful, Viktor,” you say, admiration clear in your voice. “And I can’t wait to see you and Jayce bring it to life.”

His golden eyes linger on the Undercity before flickering to you. “You believe in us,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “In me.”

“Of course I do,” you reply without hesitation. “You see possibilities where others see obstacles. How could I not believe in that?”

A rare softness touches his gaze. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “Your faith… it means more to me than I often let on.”

The silence that follows is comfortable, the two of you watching the stars and the faint lights of the Undercity. Yet, a shadow passes over Viktor’s expression. His fingers tighten around his cane, his thoughts veiled but heavy.

“The night grows late,” he says finally. “We should rest. Tomorrow will bring more challenges.”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

You stood silently behind Jayce, your gaze darting between him and Viktor as the tension between them thickened.

"This is a misuse of our work," Viktor muttered, eyes fixed on the enforcers tinkering with the Hexgate. His voice carried the sharp edge of frustration. "What happened to our promise to improve lives? To help those in the Undercity?"

Jayce let out a sharp breath, shaking his head dismissively. "I’m a Councilor now, Viktor," he replied, his tone clipped. "My priority is ensuring the Hexgates are secure. That has to come first." He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. "You understand, don’t you?"

Caught off guard, you hesitated, shifting your weight. "Maybe you should’ve... included Viktor in your plans," you murmured carefully. "You know, since you’re supposed to be partners."

Jayce scoffed lightly, his humor paper-thin. "Aren’t you supposed to be my apprentice?" he quipped, offering you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Across from him, Viktor gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. A flicker of genuine gratitude. You returned it with a faint smile before Jayce’s attention shifted elsewhere.

Marcus entered the room, and Jayce moved to speak with him, leaving you and Viktor by the railing.

"I just don’t understand," Viktor murmured as you leaned on the edge beside him. "This should be all the more reason to push our research further. The Undercity needs us, and the longer we ignore them, the angrier they’ll grow."

His gaze flicked to your hands, lingering briefly on the smooth skin where blisters had once marred the surface.

"...Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft but sincere. "At least you understand my frustrations better than Jayce does."

You shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. The quiet critique of your mentor made your stomach knot, but you kept silent. It wasn’t your place to interfere in the growing rift between them.

"—Have you made any progress on the stolen Gemstone?" Jayce's voice cut through your thoughts, snapping your focus back to him.

You noted the strain in his posture, the faint shadows under his eyes. He looked overwhelmed, and a pang of sympathy tugged at your chest. His new role was a heavy burden, but selfishly, you wondered how it might affect your time together. Would he place your training on hold, as he had seemingly done with Hextech?

The thought left a sour taste in your mouth.

Shaking it off, you turned to Viktor, who had gone quiet. His gaze was fixed on the Hexcore, its faint glow reflected in his eyes. There was a distant, almost hypnotized look in his expression.

A chill crept up your spine.

"Viktor?" you called softly, stepping closer. Your heart jolted as you noticed the blood trickling from his nose.

"Viktor!" You grabbed his shoulder instinctively. The touch startled him, and he tensed briefly before relaxing as he recognized you.

“…I’m fine," he muttered, brushing your hand away with a quiet sigh.

Jayce, alerted by the commotion, hurried over. His eyes darted between you and Viktor, narrowing when he saw the blood.

“Viktor, are you all right?” he asked, placing a firm hand on Viktor’s shoulder. The gesture forced you to step back, though you remained close.

“It’s... just a headache," Viktor replied tersely, shrugging off Jayce's hand. "I need to get back to the lab."

He turned away, cane tapping against the floor in an uneven rhythm. Halfway to the exit, he hesitated and glanced over his shoulder, gesturing for you to follow.

You cast a quick, uncertain look at Jayce, who stayed rooted in place, his gaze troubled.

After a brief hesitation, you complied, following Viktor into the corridor.

The walk to the lab was steeped in silence, tension radiating from Viktor with every brisk step. His jaw was set, his frustration evident in the stiff line of his posture.

Suddenly, he stumbled, his cane skidding against the floor. You lunged forward just in time to catch him as he collapsed against the wall, coughing violently.

"Viktor," you murmured, adjusting to support his weight as he leaned heavily on you. His breaths came in labored gasps, but he didn’t resist your help.

"Maybe we should call it a night," you suggested gently. "You’re not well. I could make you some soup—tomato basil, maybe?" You offered a tentative smile. "It’s the only thing I can cook without setting a stove on fire."

Viktor didn’t respond, his focus elsewhere as you guided him to the lab. Once there, you settled him into a chair and pulled up one beside him.

For a moment, the quiet hum of machinery filled the air.

"When I lived in the Undercity," Viktor began suddenly, his voice subdued, "I knew a man—a teacher of sorts. He once told me that loneliness was the burden of a gifted mind." He turned to you, his expression contemplative. "Do you ever feel that? The isolation, simply because you see the world differently?"

You considered his words, offering a faint smile. "Honestly? No. My parents were... eccentric, to say the least. Borderline mad scientists, but they understood me. Every phase, every crazy idea—I always had them."

Your smile softened. "And now, you have me. And Jayce. Even if we don’t always agree, we’re here for you, Viktor. Right behind you. Always."

His lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile, though his eyes flickered briefly toward the Hexcore.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Hours later, you had gone home, leaving Viktor alone in the lab to finish working on the Hexcore. The day’s events weighed heavily on him, the anger and disappointment still clinging to the air like smoke. His hands ran through his hair in frustration.

Sending you home had felt like the right decision at the time, but now that he was alone, a pang of creeping guilt settled over him. He hated that you were caught in the middle of his and Jayce’s ongoing conflict, forced to navigate between them because of your apprenticeship.

Your apprenticeship under Jayce.

The sudden acknowledgment twisted sharply in Viktor's chest. You were bound to Jayce—the Council’s rising star, Piltover’s golden boy. Jayce, who’d leaped into his new role without considering the ripple effects on those tethered to his orbit. On you. On your work. On your future.

If Viktor were your mentor—

He cut the thought off sharply, jaw tightening. It wasn’t his place. But the resentment gnawed at him, clawing at the edges of his resolve. You deserved a mentor who saw your potential, not someone too blinded by his own ambitions to nurture it.

Viktor’s eyes flickered to the porcelain pot sitting on his desk.

Perhaps…

The Hexcore hummed faintly, its glow pulsating in uneven rhythms. Viktor rose, but a sudden wave of nausea pulled him back, his knees buckling as he gripped the desk for support. The fit came hard and fast, wracking his body until crimson droplets sprinkled onto the scattered notes on his desk.

The air thickened, whispers curling like smog around him. His blurred gaze fell to the Hexcore, now spinning in erratic spirals, its light carving shadows that seemed to breathe.

A promise hummed through the static—a tantalizing whisper of hope, of salvation, of Evolution.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

It was early morning when you got the news.

Your breath was labored as you raced past Jayce who had just exited Viktor's room, not sparing him a single glance.

“Viktor!” Your voice jolts the frail man awake as you burst into the room.

“I came as soon as I heard,” you murmur, setting your bags on the chair beside him and diving into them. “I stopped by a few places to pick up things I thought you might need—”

Your words tumble over each other as you pull out a mismatched assortment of elixirs, fresh food, and little trinkets. You barely notice his faint, amused smile as he watches you, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

“You’ve brought half the city,” Viktor rasps, his voice weak but carrying a faint warmth.

You pause, finally meeting his gaze. “I’d bring the whole of Piltover if it meant you’d get better,” you say softly.

His smile lingers, though bittersweet.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you stare at your friend. "...How long?" You whisper shakily.

"...A few months," Viktor answered, his voice quiet.

The words hit like a blow to the stomach. Without thinking, you step closer, wrapping your arms around him. Viktor stiffens at first, surprised, but slowly, he returns the embrace.

You cling to him as sobs wrack your body, your tears soaking into his thin shirt. “I can’t lose you,” you choke out.

For a moment, his hand hesitates, then rests lightly against your back. His voice is a faint murmur, “You won't,” Over your shoulder, he gazes at the sketches of the Hexcore, a stark reminder of what it promised him.

The tools are in his grasp now.

The faint smile on his lips remains, but its sweetness curdles, twisting into something spoiled, something unlike himself. His grip tightens—almost imperceptibly—as if tethering himself to you.

"I haven't given up yet,"

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

“You should be with them.”

Jayce glances up at Mel, her calm expression a contrast to the weight of his own guilt. She’s right, as usual. Viktor was his partner. You were his apprentice. He should be with you, especially after this morning.

That look on your face this morning... The desperation, the panic. He’d never seen you so raw, so vulnerable, and it made him feel helpless. Useless.

Mel’s hand moves gently through his hair as she speaks, breaking the quiet. “How is Mx. L/N? I haven’t seen much of them lately.”

Jayce stiffens, glancing away. “They’re fine, I think—why?”

Mel shrugs, her tone nonchalant but her gaze sharp. “No reason, just an observation. They seem... distant. Did something happen?”

Jayce falters. Had something happened? You and he didn't talk as frequently as before. He searches his memory but finds only fragments—moments where your attention seemed elsewhere, your words clipped.

“I don’t know,” he admits. A quiet befalls the two of them, only a soft breeze interrupting the silence.

“Maybe I... should be there more. For both of them.”

Mel hums thoughtfully, her fingers stilling. “Perhaps you should. Before it’s too late.”

[OML I LOVE MEL KJENFKJSEDF]

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Jayce hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the knob. The dim light spilling from under Viktor’s door made his stomach twist. He knew he should have come sooner.

The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, revealing Viktor sitting upright in bed, a sketchpad balanced on his lap. You were slumped in a chair beside him, fast asleep, your face turned toward him with exhaustion etched in every line. Viktor’s hand idly brushed through your hair, his movements slow, almost reverent.

“Jayce,” Viktor greeted, his voice hoarse but carrying that sharp, sardonic edge. “Burning the midnight oil, I see.”

Jayce stepped into the room, his gaze flickering between you and Viktor. “I came to check on you,” he said after a beat. “On both of you.”

“How thoughtful,” Viktor murmured, though there was no mistaking the faint sting beneath his words.

Jayce’s chest tightened. “I didn’t know it was this bad,” he admitted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Viktor’s smile was razor-thin. “And what would you have done, Jayce? You’ve been occupied. The Council, your reputation, your ambitions—so many pressing matters. Where would I fit?”

The words struck like a blow, and Jayce flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Viktor’s voice softened, a chilling calm threading through his words. “When was the last time you worked with us in the lab? When did you last look at them and see what this has cost?”

Jayce’s gaze fell to you, the subtle furrow in your brow even in sleep telling him everything he needed to know.

“They’re loyal,” Viktor continued, his hand stilling briefly in your hair. “More than I deserve, perhaps. Certainly more than you’ve earned.”

“Viktor…” Jayce’s voice cracked under the weight of guilt.

“They need someone who sees them. Not someone torn between a dozen different obligations.” Viktor’s hand resumed its slow, deliberate motion, his gaze settling back on Jayce with unsettling clarity. “Loyalty has its limits, after all, and it frays under neglect.”

Jayce opened his mouth, searching for a rebuttal, but found none. Instead, he swallowed the lump in his throat and turned toward the door.

As it clicked shut behind him, Viktor glanced toward the Hexcore sketches. His fingers curled through your hair as he murmured, “You’ll see. Progress waits for no one.”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Jayce stared at the envelope in his hands. It felt heavier than any paper had the right to be. He had agonized over this decision for days, and yet it still felt like a betrayal.

When he opens the door, the soft clink of tools fills the air. You’re at the workbench, hunched over a half-assembled gadget. The sight reminds him of all the times he would stand over your shoulder and critique you.

“Hey,” he calls gently, but the sound still makes you jump.

You turned, your expression softening into a smile—until you saw the look on his face.

“Jayce?” you asked, worry lacing your tone. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitates. Only for a moment, but still, it felt like an eternity.

“I need to talk to you,” He held out the envelope, his hand trembling slightly. “...about your apprenticeship.”

Your eyes darted to the envelope before back to him. “What about it?”

He hesitated, then forced the words out. “I— Viktor and I thought this might be... better for you.”

You take the envelope, your fingers brushing his briefly. The contact sends a brief flicker of warmth through you, but it’s quickly extinguished by the growing knot in your stomach.

“What is this?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

Jayce rubs the back of his neck, his eyes darting anywhere but your face. “It’s... a transfer of mentorship. To Viktor. He’ll take over as your mentor from now on.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

“It’s for the best,” Jayce said quickly as if the words might soften the blow. “Viktor can give you the attention you nee—”

“Why?” The question escapes before you can stop it, laced with disbelief and hurt. “Did I... do something wrong?”

Jayce winces, shaking his head, “No, it’s not that. You’ve been incredible, really. It’s just Viktor… He’s better suited for this.”

“Better suited?” you repeat, your voice cracking.

“That’s not what I meant." He defended, stepping forward, but you recoiled, the distance between you widening in more ways than one."You deserve someone who can focus on you, who can... help you grow. And with everything going on, I just—”

“You just what?” Your grip tightens on the papers, your heart pounding in your chest. “You don’t want to be my mentor anymore?”

Jayce clenches his fist, but doesn't say anything, unable to look you in the eye.

“I thought...” Your voice wavers as you look down at the transfer forms. “I thought I mattered to you. That this... this partnership mattered.”

“You do,” Jayce says quickly, stepping closer, his hands hovering as if he wants to reach out but can't. “You matter, I promise. This isn’t about that, it’s about what’s best for you.”

“Then why does it feel like you're only doing what's best for you?”

The question hangs in the air, and Jayce flinches as if struck.

Clutching the papers to your chest, you quickly begin cleaning up your station. “Fine,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you jam your now broken gadget into a random drawer. “If this is what you think is best, then, fine.”

Turning away, you leave Jayce standing there, his fists clenching at his sides. The door closes softly behind you, but the weight of what just happened lingers in the room, heavy and suffocating.

Jayce sinks into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to the empty air, though he knows the words won’t reach you.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

The lighter flicks in your hand, the flame sparking briefly before you bring it to the cigarette perched between your lips.

The faint burn in your throat as you inhale almost distracts you from the knot tightening in your stomach, replaying the conversation in your mind.

Leaning against the railing, you hold the cigarette loosely between your fingers, smoke curling upward in thin, fading wisps that vanish into the night. Your chest tightens, your gaze slipping to the envelope sitting beside you on the ledge.

You thought you mattered to him.

The sting of rejection mingles with the acrid sting of smoke, and your eyes water. You tell yourself it’s the cigarette.

You take another drag, longer this time, the embers flaring faintly against the darkness.

“Am I interrupting?”

The voice cuts through the stillness, accented and soft. You startle, choking on the inhale, coughing as you fumble to regain composure.

Turning, you find Viktor standing a few feet away, a faint smile teasing the edges of his lips as he watches you struggle.

“Geez,” you rasp, rubbing your throat. “Knocking’s a thing, you know.”

He steps closer, his gait deliberate, his eyes flickering to the cigarette now on the ground. “You smoke?” he asks, voice tinged with curiosity.

“Not often,” you mutter, shifting uncomfortably. “Old habits and all.”

Viktor hums, leaning on the railing beside you. The air between you feels heavier than the night itself. “I heard what happened,” he says, his tone subdued, “I’m sorry.” His hand finds your shoulder, the touch hesitant but grounding.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you reply, toeing the discarded cigarette. “It’s not your fault.”

His hand lingers for a moment before withdrawing. “Perhaps not. But I cannot ignore the role I’ve played in this... shift.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Shift. That’s one way to put it.” Your fingers tighten on the railing, the city’s lights blurring slightly as you focus on the ache twisting in your chest. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Viktor says firmly, his voice uncharacteristically sharp. It draws your gaze to him. “Jayce’s decision was misguided. Shortsighted.”

His conviction catches you off guard. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Viktor says, his voice softening. “He is distracted, burdened by expectations he barely understands himself. He likely believed this was best for you, but in doing so, he failed to see how much he’s hurt you.”

The words settle heavily. “Maybe,” you murmur, “but it still feels like he gave up on me.”

Viktor’s expression darkens, his hands curling faintly at his sides. “Jayce does not understand the depth of loyalty you’ve shown him. Nor the potential you hold. It is his failing, not yours.”

You swallow thickly, his words cutting through the lingering haze of doubt. “I just... I thought I mattered to him. As a mentor, as a...” You trail off, the word left unspoken, though it hangs in the air.

Silence stretches between you, filled only by the hum of the city below. Viktor’s voice, when it comes again, is quieter but no less steady. “You still matter. To me, at least.”

Your head lifts, his words sinking in. He meets your gaze, his golden eyes steady and sincere. “You are... remarkable,” he continues. “Your dedication and ingenuity should be nurtured, not cast aside.”

Heat creeps to your cheeks, and you glance away, unsure how to respond. “Thanks,” you say softly, the word inadequate but all you can manage.

His lips quirk into a faint smile. He glances at the crumpled cigarette. “Perhaps next time, a cup of tea instead?”

You laugh quietly. “Yeah, maybe.”

With a slight nod, Viktor steps back, retreating into the building, leaving you alone once more. The crisp night air fills your lungs as you take a deep breath.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

You’re standing beside Viktor, the air in the lab thick with tension. Heimerdinger’s voice carries a weight you haven’t heard before as he stares at the glowing Hexcore. “What is that?” he asks, his tone grim.

Viktor’s lips twitch into a smile, seemingly oblivious to the Yordle’s concern. “I call it the Hexcore,” he says. His golden gaze flickers to the device, its pulsing glow reflected in his eyes. “An adaptive rune matrix. Hextech that evolves.”

The Hexcore radiates a heat that makes your skin prickle, like standing too close to an open flame. The sensation grows, an almost oppressive wave of intensity washing over you.

“It’s groundbreaking,” Jayce adds, stepping closer, his voice animated. His words blur, drowned out by the dryness in your throat and the heat clawing at your senses.

The room wavers, the edges of your vision distorting. Viktor’s voice cuts through the haze. “You alright?” he asks, concern threading through his words. His gaze sharpens, catching the sheen of sweat on your brow.

“Fine,” you manage, your voice hoarse. “Just… not used to this.” You force a weak smile, but his eyes linger, unconvinced.

Before he can press further, Heimerdinger speaks again, his tone firm. “You must destroy it.”

Viktor’s head snaps toward him, disbelief flashing across his features. “What?” he asks, his voice almost breathless.

The Yordle’s expression hardens. “If ever you’ve trusted my guidance, trust me now. I’ve seen nations crumble from a single spark, and this—this is no different.”

Jayce moves to block Heimerdinger’s advance. “No. I won’t let you,” he states firmly, his stance unyielding.

The Hexcore pulses faintly, its glow intensifying for a moment. You step back instinctively, the heat becoming almost unbearable.

Heimerdinger’s gaze shifts to Viktor, his voice softening. “You’ve changed, Viktor. What have you done?”

Viktor hesitates, his focus flickering between the Yordle and the Hexcore. “I… I don’t understand.”

Heimerdinger’s eyes narrow, his voice heavy with warning. “That thing must be destroyed.”

The Hexcore flares again, forcing you to take another step back. Jayce and Heimerdinger exchange heated words, their voices rising over each other. Viktor remains silent, his gaze fixed on the device, distant, almost entranced.

As the argument crescendos, Heimerdinger turns to leave, pausing briefly beside you. “Trust your instincts,” he says, his voice low but firm. “And remember, sometimes your abilities are all you have. Don’t let this be your tragedy.”

His words linger as he departs, leaving a strange tension in his wake. You stay stuck in your spot, not listening entirely to Viktor and Jayce’s hushed conversation.

Viktor’s voice pulls you back. “I want you to come with me, to Zaun,” he says, his tone decisive, Jayce had already left the room, leaving just the two of you. His hand rests lightly on your shoulder, the touch steady despite the faint prickling heat. “It will be... enlightening.”

Your eyes widen at the offer. “To Zaun?” you ask cautiously. “Does Jayce—”

“Jayce isn’t your mentor,” Viktor interrupts, his tone brooking no argument. “I am. Prepare yourself. We leave tonight.”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

“I understand now,” Viktor said, his voice steady as he stepped closer to the shadowy figure of his old mentor, Singed. The faint flicker of light from a nearby apparatus illuminated his sharp features. “And I need your help.”

Singed didn’t look up immediately, his hands busy calibrating a device on his cluttered workbench. “And you came alone?” he asked, his tone calm, though a tinge of curiosity threaded through it.

Viktor shook his head. “No. My apprentice waits outside.”

Beyond the lab’s cracked door, you leaned against a ruined wall, exhaling a long-suffering sigh. The stale, chemical-laden air was getting to you, but boredom was the real killer. You kicked a pebble at your feet, muttering, “Some ‘important errand’ this is...”

“An apprentice?” Singed finally turned toward Viktor, his pale eyes narrowing with intrigue. “You’ve grown much, my boy. Why not bring them inside?”

Viktor’s gaze swept over the lab, lingering on the glass capsule at the far end. Inside, the still form of Rio floated, suspended in eerie silence. “They’ll... need time,” he replied, a faint unease creeping into his voice. “Like I did. I don’t want to rush things.”

Singed shrugged, his movements deliberate as he set aside his tools. “What is it you’ve brought to me?” he asked, smoothly shifting the conversation.

Viktor stepped forward, handing over a stack of meticulously prepared notes and a sealed vial. Singed accepted them, scanning the pages with practiced efficiency. “Fascinating,” he murmured. “Your work has matured, Viktor. I would very much like to see the device—this Hexcore.”

Viktor tensed, his gaze flickering back to Rio’s capsule. “That... may be difficult to arrange,” he admitted.

Singed’s expression didn’t change, but there was a weight to his silence. Viktor sighed, stepping closer to the capsule, his voice low with frustration. “I’ve tried every combination of runes. Adjustments. Iterations. Yet the result is always the same: the subject withers. It rots.”

Singed’s brow furrowed slightly, his hands resting on the workbench. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, “the fault does not lie with your calculations.”

Viktor’s head snapped toward him. “Then where?”

“With your subjects.” Singed reached for a vial of shimmering, violet liquid, its glow cutting through the dimness. “Nature has made us intolerant to change. Fortunately,” he added, holding the vial aloft, “we have the capacity to change our nature.”

Viktor stared at the vial, unease rippling through him as he took a half-step back. “And this is... shimmer?”

“A variant,” Singed confirmed, walking toward him with measured steps. “It will provide everything one needs to survive a violent transition.”

The vial’s glow reflected in Viktor’s eyes as he hesitated. The liquid pulsed faintly, almost as if it were alive. His cure. His key to evolution, so close he could almost feel its weight in his hand.

“I must warn you,” Singed said, his voice quiet yet deliberate. “If you take this path, they will despise you. Love and legacy—these are sacrifices we make for progress.”

Viktor’s fingers hovered over the vial, his breath shallow. “They will understand,” he said finally, his voice a whisper. “They always have.”

His hand closed around the vial, the glass warm against his palm. For a moment, he studied it, the shimmer within swirling as if in anticipation. He slipped it into his pocket with a flicker of resolve.

“And if they don’t,” he added softly, more to himself than to Singed, “then I will teach them to.”

Without another word, Viktor turned and strode out of the lab. The faint clinking of the vial echoed in his pocket as he stepped into the ruins, the cold air biting at his skin. His eyes quickly scanned the area, finding you crouched by a crumbled wall, lazily tossing rocks into a shallow stream.

He approached and tapped your shoulder, drawing a startled yelp from you. Spinning around, you glared at him, hand pressed to your chest. “Seriously? Can you not?”

“It’s time to go,” Viktor said, his tone clipped, brooking no argument. “I have what I came for.”

You scrambled to your feet, brushing dust off your clothes. "Uh— yeah, right— sorry," you muttered, falling into step behind him.

As you trailed after him, curiosity got the better of you. “Soo... how’d it go?”

Viktor’s stride didn’t falter. “It went... well,” he replied evenly. “I believe I’ve found a solution.”

Your face lit up with excitement. “Wait, really? Does that mean—”

“Not here,” Viktor interrupted sharply, his voice low as his gaze darted to the shadows. “It’s not safe.”

Chastened, you nodded, your excitement dimming as silence fell between you.

The city’s bustle greeted you as you passed into a more crowded district, its vibrancy pulling you from your thoughts. The chaotic energy of Zaun seemed to pulse with life, unlike anything you’d seen before.

“Wow,” you murmured, marveling at the neon-lit chaos. “This is the Undercity?”

Viktor slowed slightly, his expression softening at your wonder. “Yes. It may lack the polish of Piltover, but it is... alive in ways they cannot comprehend.”

You nodded, your gaze darting between the glowing lights and towering structures. “It’s nothing like the stories. It’s... beautiful.”

A faint smile touched Viktor’s lips. “Zaun thrives despite the shadows it’s cast into. Ingenuity flourishes here, even amidst adversity.”

You glanced at him, a grin tugging at your lips. “You’ve got stories about growing up here, don’t you?”

He chuckled quietly. “Zaun teaches resilience, but it is not a kind teacher. Every invention, every triumph—it was survival, not progress.”

“Explains a lot about you,” you teased lightly.

He arched a brow. “Oh? And what does that mean?”

You shrugged, smirking. “You’re like... the world’s most intense puzzle. But lately, I think I’m finally starting to figure you out.”

He chuckled again, a rare warmth in his voice. “And you, my apprentice, remain delightfully open-minded.”

The two of you shared a quiet smile before continuing your journey, the glow of Zaun fading as Progress Bridge loomed ahead.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Jayce walks through the smog on the bridge, glancing over the aftermath of last night's attack and the protests. A frown prints itself on his face as he spots two familiar figures near the edge of the bridge.

Anger bubbles just beneath the surface, but he forces his jaw tight, trying to leash it. As he approaches, his boots scrape against the grit of the stone. Viktor is the first to notice him.

“Jayce?” Viktor’s voice is tinged with confusion, his brows knitting together as he gestures toward the blockade. “What is this?”

You sit beside Viktor, a gnawing dread coiling in your stomach. From Jayce's expression, you knew you were in trouble.

Jayce’s voice is low, but it cuts like glass. “Do you two have any idea how this looks?” He glares at Viktor, his words clipped and venomous. “I order a blockade, and my partner violates it, dragging along my- his apprentice? Are you out of your mind?”

Viktor straightens, the weariness in his frame offset by the defensiveness in his voice. “You ordered this?” His tone is incredulous, his gaze searching Jayce’s face. “Why?”

Jayce’s voice rises a bit as he struggles to remain calm. “There are people down there who seem hell-bent on destroying us. And you—” Jayce turned his fiery gaze towards you, “—you just went along with this? Knowing how dangerous it is? How reckless?”

Viktor’s lips press into a thin line as he exhales, shaking his head. “I was consulting a friend about our quandary,” he says, “I brought Y/n along because I’m their mentor, and I thought it’d be a good teaching opportunity.” his words deliberate and firm. “I told you I knew someone.”

Jayce’s eyes widened in disbelief, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You didn’t tell me they were from the Undercity.”

Viktor’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes. “What difference does that make?” he asked, his voice quiet but loaded.

“They’re dangerous!” Jayce hissed.

The words hang in the air, as Viktor’s gaze hardens, glaring into the other man, “I’m from the Undercity.”

Jayce's expression melts, a donning look mixed with regret appearing on his face. “Viktor, I didn’t mean—” He reached out, but Viktor batted his hand away, leaning on his cane as he stood.

Sighing, Jayce lowers his hand, "Sorry... Was your friends able to help?

Viktor pauses, glancing back at Jayce, "No," he answered, “No, he said nature was resistant to this sort of..." His grip on his cane tightens, "tampering."

The silence hung heavy as Viktor turned, his back rigid. You follow closely behind, ignoring the feeling of Jayce's stare on you.

━━━━━━━━

The walk to the lab felt endless, the silence between you thick with unspoken tension.

Once inside, the quiet lingered, broken only by the faint, unsettling hum of the Hexcore. You sat across from Viktor, watching as he wordlessly pulled out a notebook, scribbling away as if nothing had happened.

Your gaze drifted to the two plates of food waiting on the desks—Sky must have brought them earlier. Reaching for one, you broke the silence. “Have you eaten?” you asked softly, though you already knew the answer.

Viktor didn’t look up. “We’ve been occupied,” he murmured, his focus unwavering. “I need to figure out how to…”

He trailed off, and you frowned. Setting your bags down, you approached with one of the plates. “You won’t get far on an empty stomach,” you muttered, setting the food beside him.

His pen paused as his gaze flickered to the plate, then to you. “You care too much,” he said quietly.

“And you care too little,” you counter, leaning back in your chair. “Someone has to make sure you’re taken care of.”

He chuckles dryly, placing down his notebook and pen as he turns to meet your gaze. "I thought you were my apprentice, not my caretaker."

You shrug, "Aren't apprentices supposed to help their mentors? Plus,” you leaned against the desk, “after 3 years of working together, I figured I earned the friend title.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice quieter now, his gaze fixed on you. There was an intensity in his eyes that made you falter.

The hum of the Hexcore permeated the atmosphere, a subtle yet resolute drone. It reminded you of flies, their incessant buzzing heralding decay, drawn to what was already doomed. Like a song, featuring a strange, almost living rhythm, curling around your thoughts. You made an effort to ignore it, but the unease it evoked inside of you persisted, a whispered omen through static.

Your gaze stayed locked with Viktor’s, his amber eyes glinting with an intensity that made your chest tighten. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if he heard the hum too— 

“Though,” Viktor murmured, his voice low and measured, “perhaps I view you as something more.”

—or if it had already consumed him.

The quiet stretched, your pulse quickening as you tried to process his words. Then, without warning, he leaned forward—lips brushing yours.

His touch was gentle, careful, but it felt wrong. The room shifted, the walls closing in as the Hexcore’s hum swelled into an unbearable crescendo, like flies buzzing over decay.

Your mind screamed at you to move, to pull away, but shock froze you in place.

You didn’t know what to do, or how to react.

When he finally drew back, the space between you felt impossibly vast and suffocating all at once. Viktor stared, wide-eyed, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done. You mirrored his expression, stunned.

“I don’t know,” he cuts you off, his voice quiet but strained, like a violin string pulled too tight. He looks down at his hands, now trembling slightly. “I... I shouldn’t have.”

Your chest tightens as the silence between you grows unbearable. Every instinct tells you to say something, to demand an explanation, but words fail you. Instead, you grab your bags and retreat toward the door, the hum of the Hexcore growing louder in the stillness.

Viktor doesn’t move to stop you.

The door clicks shut behind you, and the faint sound feels deafening. Outside the lab, the air is cooler, but it did little to soothe the burning of his touch.

Inside, Viktor sat motionless, staring blankly at the plate of food. His lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of his guilt suffocating. But it wasn’t guilt over the act itself—no, the guilt came from something far worse.

I don’t regret it, the thought whispered like a vulture circling prey.

His gaze drifted to the Hexcore, its ominous glow pulsing faintly in the dim room. “I’m losing myself,” he murmured to the silence.

The Hexcore’s hum deepened, an almost living response, vibrating through the air like whispered agreement.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

You lean over the sink, droplets of water sliding down your face and dripping from your chin. The coolness of the water clings to your skin, but it does little to wash away the lingering sensation. His touch. His words. The suffocating hum of the Hexcore.

Your hands grip the porcelain edges of the sink, knuckles white, as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. Your reflection betrays you, every ounce of feeling lingering on its face. The towel wrapped around you feels heavy, suffocating, as though it might drag you under.

You don’t know what to feel.

Three years you've worked with him, learned from him. Even when he wasn't technically your mentor.

You admired him.

You owe him so much. The opportunity he gave you, the trust he placed in you. His unrelenting dedication and care, even as his body betrayed him.

The memory of his lips on yours lingers like an oil slick, something you can’t scrub away no matter how hard you try.

That bond felt scorched, twisted by the memory of his lips on yours. The Hexcore’s hum still buzzed in your mind, incessant like flies, circling something already decaying.

You press your palm to your lips as if to smother the burning sensation.

You splash water onto your face again, desperate for clarity, for some release from the sickening tangle of emotions pulling at you from every direction. Disgust coils deep within you, heavy and unrelenting. Disgust with him. Disgust with yourself.

How did it come to this?

Your breaths come in shallow gasps as your mind races. Could you have done something differently? Said something? Stopped him? But the guilt gnaws at you, whispering that perhaps you’d allowed this to happen, that your care had somehow blurred the lines between what was right and what should never have been crossed.

The buzzing from earlier won’t leave your mind, an ever-present phantom in the background of your thoughts. Flies, their relentless hum circling something already rotting.

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes, willing the image away. You want to cry, but the tears won’t come.

Instead, you exhale a shaky breath and straighten, staring at yourself in the mirror once more.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

"You can't be serious." Viktor seethed at Jayce, "You aren't actually considering using Hextech as a weapon, and against the undercity!?"

The past two days away from the lab weren’t nearly enough. The noise, the tension—it’s relentless. You find yourself yearning for a simpler time, back before the council, before the Hexcore began to feel like a living, breathing entity between you all.

"I can't—right now—I can't deal with this," Jayce sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I have a council meeting in a few hours. Y/n," he turned to you, his voice softening, "Could you go over these tests while I’m gone?"

You nodded, distracted, your eyes briefly locking with his.

Before you could reach for the files, a sharp voice cut through the tension.

"No."

You and Jayce turned, surprised by the sudden interruption. Viktor stood at the edge of the lab, his gaze locked on Jayce with an intensity that chilled you.

"They are no longer your apprentice, Jayce," Viktor continued, his voice rigid. "Any work they receive will be through me. And me only."

Jayce froze, eyes narrowing in frustration, but Viktor didn’t seem to care.

"Fine." Jayce scoffed, shooting Viktor one last glare before exiting the lab, the door slamming shut behind him.

The tension between you and Viktor hung in the air as silence settled in. Viktor turned back to his work, fiddling with some mechanical components. You returned to your notes, the scratching of your pencil filling the void between you.

The stillness was deafening. Only the clinking of Viktor’s tools against metal and the faint hum of the Hexcore filled the space.

"Shit, where—" Viktor muttered under his breath.

You lifted your gaze, curious, but the irritation in his tone was unmistakable.

"Y/n," he called quietly, "Do you think you can find my needle nose pliers?"

You nodded, mumbling a soft "yes" as you rose from your desk.

You glanced around, quickly spotting the pliers resting right next to the glowing Hexcore. Unease settles in you once more as you stare at the Hexcore.

Did it always look like that?

"Y/n?" Viktor's voice cut through your thoughts, forcing you back into reality.

"Oh— uh, found them."

You mutter, going over the the desk to pick them up. The moment your fingers brushed against the tool, the air seemed to crackle.

The Hexcore flared, and before you could pull away, a tendril of magic lashed out, striking your hand.

Pain seared through your palm, sharp and relentless, making you gasp and stumble back. But it was too late.

The Hexcore surged, and agony radiated up your arm like wildfire.

"Y/n!" Viktor's voice was frantic now, his chair scraping sharply against the floor as he rushed to your side.

Your skin sizzled as the glow of the Hexcore intensified.

A yank on your arm forces your attention away from the burn, Viktor grasped your hand tightly, inspecting the burn. It looked... worse than all the other burns you had received.

"You... You should have been more careful," Viktor murmured, his words shaky, but they felt distant, disconnected like they were coming from somewhere far away. His face was pale, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at your burned hand.

Slowly, he drags you away from the Hexcore over to his desk. Viktor grabbed a familiar porcelain pot, its surface cracked but still holding strong. He removed the glass lid, the faint scent of herbs wafting into the air as the greenish liquid within shimmered under the lab’s dim light.

For a moment, his hand hovered over the pot, hesitation flickering in his eyes. He dipped a piece of cotton into the liquid, his movements precise, almost mechanical. Then, with a gentleness that felt strangely out of place given everything, he took your injured hand in his.

The burn throbbed as he dabbed the cotton over it, the cool liquid soothing the worst of the sting. His touch was deliberate, almost reverent, as though he were trying to erase the damage through sheer force of will.

“This isn’t permanent,” he said softly, breaking the tense silence. “It will heal in a few days. You’ll hardly remember it.”

You winced as the liquid seeped into the wound, biting your lip to keep from crying out. “I’ve heard that before,” you muttered, your voice tight.

Viktor stilled, his hand pausing over yours. He stared at the burn for a long moment before he spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Do you remember the first time this happened?”

You didn’t answer immediately, the memory tugging at the edges of your mind. It was years ago now, back when the lab felt like a sanctuary instead of a battlefield. Back when Viktor’s smile held warmth instead of shadows, the Hexcore was just an idea, not a force that seemed to breathe and pulse with its own twisted life.

“I remember,” you said, at last, your tone guarded.

Viktor nodded, his lips curving into something that was almost a smile but didn’t quite make it. “You were shaking. I thought you might never come back.”

You glanced at him, caught off guard by the faint flicker of nostalgia in his voice. “I didn’t want to. Not after that.”

He hummed, the sound low and contemplative. “And yet you did. You always came back.” His eyes met yours, and for a fleeting second, they softened. “Even when you have every reason not to.”

The words hung between you like a fragile thread.

“I came back because I trusted you,” you said quietly, the weight of the statement pressing down on your chest.

Viktor flinched, the softness in his eyes hardening into something darker. He lowered his gaze, focusing intently on your hand as he wrapped it in a clean bandage.

“You still can,” he murmured, but the words felt hollow like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive. Finally, Viktor broke it, his voice barely above a whisper. “About… before.”

Your breath hitched, and your stomach churned at the memory. You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to relive the wrongness of his lips on yours or the way it had made your skin crawl.

“I shouldn’t have…” he began, his tone strained as if the words were being dragged out of him against his will. “It was—” He faltered, his grip tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. “A mistake.”

Viktor didn’t meet your gaze, his focus fixed on the task at hand. But there was something in the set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, that made you doubt the sincerity of his words.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

His hand froze mid-motion, and for a long moment, he didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he looked up at you, his amber eyes burning you.

“No,” he admitted, the word barely audible. “I don’t.”

The air between you seemed to shift, the weight of his confession pressing down like a physical force.

You pull your hand away from his grasp, and he lets you.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

You wandered the dark hallways, muttering curses under your breath. In your rush to leave earlier, you had forgotten something important in the lab, and now you were back. The sun had long set, casting shadows that made the corridors feel even more oppressive. Every step felt heavier as you neared the lab.

Your hand rested on the door, but you hesitated. A strange purple glow seeped from beneath it. Frowning, you pushed the door open just a little more.

What you saw inside froze you in place.

Viktor stood at the center of the room, clutching the Hexcore as energy surged from it. The room was alive with chaotic power, papers swirling violently in the air. The air crackled with an intensity that almost felt suffocating.

Viktor’s grip on the Hexcore was inhumanly tight, his body convulsing as energy ripped through him. His screams echoed a twisted mix of pain and something darker.

"Viktor!?"

Without thinking, you rushed forward, grabbing his arm in an attempt to pull him away. But the Hexcore seemed to resist, pulling back with a force that threatened to tear you apart.

A searing pain coursed through you, starting from your hand and spreading through your body like wildfire. You gasped, the sensation of your skin sizzling almost audible as you fought to stay on your feet.

An opulent light flared around you, the burns climbing up your body halting and healing quickly but leaving deep, raw scars in their wake. You could barely keep your vision clear as they spread, scarring your face and limbs, only for the wounds to heal just as quickly—leaving deep, jagged scars behind.

Viktor’s strained gasps filled the air as he looked over his shoulder, horror donning in his eyes when he recognized you. He saw the burns, your face raw with the damage, but before he could speak, the Hexcore pulsed again.

A final surge of energy erupted from it, throwing you back, your body slamming against the wall with a sickening crack. The lab was plunged back into silence, save for the distant hum of the Hexcore still glowing ominously in the center of the room,

Viktor gasps, catching his breath as he writhes on the floor. Desperation claws at him as he searches for your body, wi9dening once he sees it on the other side of the lab, blood smearing the wall behind you, a stark red against the pale stone.

“Y/n—” His voice cracked, hoarse and trembling. He dragged himself toward you, his movements slow and unsteady, his desperation palpable.

“Y/n!!”

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

Jayce stood motionless, staring at the still form in the hospital bed. Half of your face was unmarred, a ghost of the person he’d known for years. The other half was ravaged beyond recognition, the skin deeply scarred, a stark contrast that was hard to look at.

Beside him, the doctor spoke, her voice calm but grave. “There’s a spinal fracture. If they wake, they’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Stop,” Jayce whispered, his voice barely audible. He closed his eyes, as if shutting out her words could make them untrue. “Just... stop.”

The doctor hesitated, then nodded, her expression softening. “I’ll give you some space.”

As she left, Jayce remained rooted by your bedside, his gaze never leaving you. How had it come to this?

You had been more than an apprentice to him—his confidant, his partner, someone who believed in him even when he doubted himself. And now, you were here, teetering on the edge between life and death.

He gently reached for your hand, clutching it as though his grip alone could anchor you to this world. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “No more of this. No more council. I’m done with them. We’ll fix this. I’ll fix this.”

But his words felt hollow, and deep down, he knew he couldn’t undo what had been done.

━━━━━━━━❪❂❫━━━━━━━━

“No one could have predicted this tragedy. Today marks six months since Zaun’s devastating attack on Piltover—”

The radio droned on in the background, but Viktor wasn’t listening.

He stood silently beside the hospital bed, his gaze fixed on you. Your face, marked by the scars left behind, was peacefully asleep. Machines beeped softly in the background, monitoring your condition.

Viktor’s discolored hand hovered just above yours, trembling slightly. His expression was unreadable.

“Soon, my dear,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Soon.”

To be continued...

TagList:

@marcyyywukinnie

[herioclizard]

Request from @ma1egamer for a Moon Knight reader

Mel: "Are you--an angel?"

Y/N: "Yeah, sure, whatever...you got any ketamine?"

.

.

[Y/N heads down into Zaun while shouting]

Y/N: "I know you're here, Silco you, big fucking nerd. Where's my goddamn money?"

.

.

[Jinx lands down from the rafters as Y/N stands there with his arms crossed in his Moon Knight atire]

Jinx: "Y/N."

Y/N: "The answer is no."

Jinx: "I--I haven't even asked you yet."

Y/N: "I'm busy, Jinx."

Jinx: "Egyptian stuff, right? I bet it's Egyptian stuff. Mummies, pharaohs, scrab armies...?"

[Y/N sighs]

Y/N: "Not everything I do is Egyptian stuff."

Jinx: "Okay, okay. But what if...I were to help you become, I don't know, less busy? Than would you hear me out?"

[Y/N sighs yet again]

Y/N: "Sure, let's get this over with."

.

.

.

Caitliyn: "It's over, Moon Knight! I have the high ground!"

Y/N: "You underestimate my ketamine intake!"

.

.

.

[Y/N breathes heavily and then turns to Warwick]

Y/N: "You need a hobby."

WARWICK: "I HAVE A HOBB-"

Y/N: "Listening to Power Wolf, isn't a hobby."

.

.

.

Vi: "Hey, Y/N, I-"

Jake: "I'm Jake."

Vi: "Jake, listen-"

Steven: "Oops, sorry lad, Steven now."

Vi: "Okay, Steven--"

Y/N: "Oh, Y/N again."

Vi: "OH MY FUCKING GOD!!"

.

.

.

Khonsu: "My son, what did you do?! I said kill Mephisto, not Viktor."

Y/N: "Ah shit. Jayce is gonna kill eleven times a day now. When should I tell him?"

Khonsu: "....give it one more day."

.

.

.

Heimerdinger: "I could use your...creditable advice on some Council related matters."

Y/N: "Mhm...I don't give out secrets to the vigilante trade to just about any-"

Heimerdinger: "It's actually about war crimes."

[Y/N's eyes immediately light up]

Y/N: "Get me a pencil and paper I could fill you a fuckin' book. Grab some ketamine too cause we're gonna be here all night, you little furry."

.

.

.

Y/N: "I am...the Silver Surfer. Hand over your wallet and your ketamine or Runaterra is doomed."

Ekko: "Fuck off, Moon Knight. I'm not falling for that one again."

.

.

.

Sevika: "Kill that guy over there."

Y/N: "Yes, I...shut the fuck up, Khonsu, she just told me!"

[cushfuddled]

I don't know if I want to make a video about this because it's SO subjective obv but also like. I've NEVER felt compelled to write a "homophobic au" where I take a tolerant fantasy world and make it bigoted. As a kid I used to complain ALL THE GODDAMN TIME about how fantasy writers could imagine a world with talking dragons and magic powers but always drew the line at equal rights for gay people. And here I am PUTTING THE HOMOPHOBIA BACK into a fantasy world WITHOUT homophobia. And I was like.

do I feel so compelled to do this???

I knew I didn't NEED an excuse to insert homophobia into Arcane. Write whatever you want etc etc. But I was so curious, since my preference up 'til now has always been for casually queer fantasy worlds. And uh yeah honestly I think this pivot stems from like, a disconnect between my understanding of systemic bigotry as a queer autistic woman and the way Arcane appears to pick and choose its world's politics from a salad bar.

In the real world, social issues are all tangled up in each other. Racism and classism and queerphobia and xenophobia and ableism and misogyny and misandry and ageism...all these 'isms bud off each other in a kind of swirling feedback loop, necessitating an intersectional approach to activism.

At the end of Arcane, no one broke the cycle of violence. The council chamber table is shaped like a gear, symbolizing its members' status as a "gear train" for all change within Piltover and Zaun. Jinx's bomb destroys that gear with the rest of the council room, only for an off-screen contractor to glue the pieces together between scenes. Piltover adds more "progressive" representatives to its gear train, but the underlying oligarchical mechanism remains. If the cycle of violence ever breaks, it will be because these new "teeth" convince the council to trade their power for democracy. If the elite don't give a real voice to the marginalized (I'm not sure one or two non-elected representatives makes the cut), the marginalized will take to more radical measures to be heard, and the conflict will start anew.

Arcane's hostile oligarchical world sculpted Viktor into the perfect time bomb. Its proud disgust for immigrants; addicts; the poor; the disabled, taught Viktor great shame and hate for who he was and where he came from. These lessons are at least cousins to Social Darwinism, fascism, and the politics of eugenics. Viktor aimed to "evolve" himself and his people into a "perfect" final form. He equated "progress" with the eradication of disability and sickness...then emotion.

Here Viktor branches off from the emotionalism central to fascist ideology, declaring passion ("Our emotions...rage, compassion, hate...") the "cause of [humanity's] greatest evil." Viktor describes emotions as Freudian "baser instincts," dirty and corrosive in their "self-corrupting" force.

To deserve love and admiration, Viktor believes he must become perfect. And for all he waxes poetic re: science and reason and the people of Zaun, Viktor still bases his definition of "perfection" on the ideals of his oppressors. It says a lot to me, that Viktor's idea of "progress" looks like the total eradication of sickness and disability; the rise of an obedient, docile, dogmatic collective; the dominance of Viktor's dome amidst the modest shelters of his followers; Viktor's sleek, agile, white and gold robots. Viktor's goals share a springboard with those of the Piltover elite. Both systems place undue value on power and purity. Both depend on a complaisant, malleable public, and both punish individualism. Piltover pretends to champion movers and shakers and out-of-the-box thinkers, immortalizing key figures like "Stanwick Padidly" and Jayce, but Jayce was only allowed back into the world of the wealthy once he proved

a. he had something to give

b. he was deemed suitably manipulable.

The moment Jayce tried to clamp down on Piltover's rampant corruption (aka wield his newfound powers in service of the less fortunate), Mel was there to reinforce the status quo. It was made very clear that Jayce's options were either to fall in line or lose his job—along with the chance to make any kind of positive change. Behind the curtain Jayce and Viktor were only puppets in service of the wealthy and powerful. Hextech didn't better the lives of marginalized people. It upgraded weapons for the police and generated new trade opportunities for employers (the economy would've undergone a hell of a shakeup with the sudden flush of consumer goods and access to overseas labor. From the state of Zaun and Piltover post-time skip, I assume the new trade routes shuffled money around but didn't make necessities like medicine or shelter any more attainable for your average citizen).

"You used me, and Viktor, for Hextech. You called us 'investments.'" "Two brilliant young inventors who shared a penchant for impossible surprises. Carrying magic from myth to machine. Rallying the hope and hearts of a nation. You were a wise investment."

Anyway. Why is Viktor so threatened by his ability to feel "affection?" Every other goal aligns with a kind of supercharged version of Piltover's oppressive value system, but this one...not so much.

I guess you could say "civil society" frowns on explosive emotions like rage and hate because they threaten the docility of a healthy status quo. Compassion poses a similar threat. It makes sense for Viktor to fixate so hard on emotions when they're the only weapon powerful enough to snap him out of his Hexcore power trip. But I'm more drawn to the reading where Viktor recognizes queerness within himself (cough his love for Jayce cough) as another barrier on the road to perfection (as measured by the standards of an oligarchical regime).

It seems to me that Viktor's goals are all symptoms of a society steeped in ableism, classism, xenophobia, and queerphobia—but only three of those conditions manifest in Arcane's worldbuilding.

I dunno, man. What resonates with my queer experience will totally contradict someone else's. But I guess I can't envision an oligarchical system like Piltover's—a system founded on classism, ableism, and a weaponized fear of the dirty "other"—would somehow evade racism and queerphobia. Like..."We're fine with black people and gay people. But god help you if you're poor or sick or disabled or from Zaun!" Bigotry is irrational and contradictory, so there are surely examples of this pick-and-choose phenomenon outside of Arcane. And good lord, I don't think anyone should feel "obligated" to fill their fantasy worlds with homophobia! But Arcane definitely sparked enough cognitive dissonance in me to make me crank out some "what if this world was also homophobic" fanfic.

(There's also League of Legends' legacy as an alt-right cesspool. Before I even knew what an MMO was, I'd been warned about a game called LoL, the supposed "worst of the worst" when it came to voice chat culture. Not sure how I feel about that context yet.)

[babynonbinarywitch]

Supernatural Creatures AU - Arcane (Part 2)

Part 1

This is going to go over some the societal implications of magical creatures being the norm in Runeterra and specifically Piltover and Zaun. I’m sure to miss some details, so let me know if there’s specifics you want to know that I didn’t go over.

Obviously magic is an inherent part of everyday life and existence, so it’s more tolerated (unless you’re in Demacia, but we’re not focusing there)

Piltover

Heimerdinger is still traumatized by magic, but it’s specifically the use of magic as a weapon, not just the ambient magic most people on Runeterra (including himself) give off

Piltover’s norm is a mix of mainly vampires and werewolves, with vampires tending to be higher class

Most of the Council are vampires

The exception is Mel (unawakened human mage)

Werewolves exist in Piltover, just mainly as working class people, rather than higher class

There are more than a few immigrant families that aren’t vampires or werewolves, but they tend to either pretend to be human or keep to themselves enough that it doesn’t matter to the public

Like I stated before, dragons are exceedingly rare and ever more secretive, there are only four dragons in all of Piltover/Zaun and they do an exceptional job of convincing the world that they are just normal non-magical humans

Like anywhere where people accumulate enough wealth to want to show it off, there’s obviously a black market trade in rarer, “more exotic” magical creatures, usually captured very young and trained/beat into compliance (such as dragon hatchlings, siren and mer pups, fae children, etc.)

A lot of the time, they’re sold off to the vampiric elite and used as blood bags since it’s considered “uncouth” and “savage” to actually go hunting for a civilian to feed off of

Some of them do develop a preference for what creatures they want to feed off of for this reason, at which point it becomes too bothersome to scout out a specific species to hunt down from the civilian populace

The black market trade is part of the reason that Ximena doesn’t let Jayce out of her sight until he’s much older and able to actually defend himself

There may or may not be irregular raids on the warehouses the children are kept in, orchestrated by abolitionist Piltovans and organized Zaunites

Zaun

In Zaun, the mix is a little more even, with other creatures not really having to hide once they can defend themselves, so it is and appears a lot more diverse than Piltover

It’s still mainly vampires and werewolves, but it’s not a particularly strict hierarchy between them (ie, Vander’s a werewolf, Silco’s a vampire, Felicia and Connor were human, etc.)

The only creatures that are truly rare in Piltover and Zaun are ones more aligned with nature (ie, mermaids, sirens, selkies, nymphs, fauns/satyrs, etc.) because of the pollution that industrialization has caused to the land around them

This is more severe in Zaun because of the runoff and pollution from Piltover’s industrialization floods into Zaun’s streets

Most nature spirits that did live in the region have since moved/died, with one of the exceptions being the dryad for the tree Ekko and the Firelights find later on

A lot of the children freed from the abolitionist-planned raids end up with families in Zaun, since they would be out of place in Piltover

It’s not ideal, but it’s all the kids have, and sometimes it leads to an even worse situation

[goddessofroyalty]

YES!! I WANTED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT THE HEXTECH//MIDDLE CLASS JAYCE//ACADEMY BITCHING SO BAD!!

Mostly because it makes me think about the economy of you Au. Weird, I know.

What i find very interesting about it is that their personal economy could be very different.

Yes, Silco is their first investor/associate, he has some input in what they develope but he might not interfere as much as the council. Besides they would develope things to help the people of Zaun, like the gaunlets.

So, the product being mostly and "Zaun" thing means Piltover doesn't intervine until is more or less stablish. At this point the guys would probably has more control over their inventions so they could be in a better financial state, making it difficult for the Council to bully them.

It could make the relationship between the Kiramman and Jayce more interesting. Maybe Cassandra resents him? Feels betrayed because she was the one to "support" him.

And talking about Zaun, it's betterment could be consider a threat to piltover.

It just makes me think about so many things.

I mean I created a verse as an excuse for more domestic and family fluff and then half the time are rambling about the Politics of it. It's not that weird to talk about the economy.

In the Main Version of the verse the Kirramman's do end up being early investors in Hextech. It's just that they're the third investor not the second. Holding off a bit longer because the story they know about the lab explosion is that Jayce nearly blew up their daughter but then after Mel (a foreigner) and Silco (from the Undercity) both invest in it, the Kirrammans (by which I mean Cassandra) suddenly come to the table as investors to regain Piltover influence into it.

Because, yeah, if Silco is the main investor it's going to end up being something that's mostly being used to progress Zaun more. Part of the reason I have the investment set-up the way I do in the main version of the verse is because if Silco actually had majority sway the gates are being exclusively built in Zaun (and he's probably managed to convince Jayce and Viktor to move down into Zaun and has them squirrelled away in some abandoned factory somewhere where they are free to do their science undisturbed). And once they have the gates they can basically take over Piltover's main economy (trade) because they now have the faster trade routes. And he's not going to give Piltover an edge into it if he can because it's not like they helped Zaun out why should Zaun help Piltover out?

I think Silco probably treats it a bit like how he treats Singed's work (and even Jinx') - he's overall fairly hands off but he does expect results. What exactly those results are is much more "something that is useful to me and my cause" than a really clear idea. And, so long as they continue to give him results, he's happy to continue throwing money and resources their way without really watching that closely what they are doing. There's a lot less pitching "this is what we're thinking of building" to him and instead he tends to be shown things at the fairly advanced prototype stage. So the Gauntlets and Hexclaw get built possibly earlier than canon where they were side projects.

On a personal level I think Cassandra does feel betrayed. But I also think Jayce did go to her first as a potential investor and she turned him down (because dangerous unproven thing that nearly blew up her daughter). So she can't actually blame Jayce for it. That's how buisness is. Instead she probably tries to use their history to get some leverage to get Piltover back into the mix to get some control of the Hexgates back into Piltover's (or at least her family's) hands. Whether or not she would be successful is a different question.

Piltover would absolutely see the Hexgates as a threat to them (again they can basically steal Piltover's economy from them). The thing is could they actually destroy them with Silco determined to defend them? And how long do they have after they are built before the damage is already done, Zaun now controls the trade, the foreign groups would now be mad if Piltover destroyed the gates.

An interesting thing to think about is actually if they only have Mel and Silco as investors (so the Kirramman's never join on). Would Mel act as a pseudo-Piltover influence and try and have (at least some of) the gates built in Piltover? Or would she be swayed to instead also refocusing her investment onto Zaun (and therefore be the first Powerful Foreign Investor in a place that's about to have a massive economic boom)

[melmedarda]

@meljaymicrofics ⸻ drinking ⸻ wc: 856 ⸻ rated G

Within their family there is an unspoken rule that dictates how they show affection. The Medardas are not ones for physical touch. To allow someone into one's space, so closely, is to bare your heart to the metaphorical dagger in their hand.

So no, Mel does not grow up being held, hugged, kissed, cradled. None of it. It is unlike them, and any form of touch she uses is merely one of many tools in her arsenal.

Jayce, her newest project, is the very opposite of her, it seems. His work is of tactile nature; she’s heard that he frequents his family forges and it explains the magnificent span of his soldiers. Such a hands-on trade requires touch.

But, she notices that he is not only hands on with his work, but with people as well. Mindless touches, hands on shoulders, lighthearted punches on the arm made in jest. She's noticed how he interacts with others, straightforward at times, playful at others. And with those closest to him, even more so. He's over seen with an arm sling around Viktor's narrow shoulders, or hugging the Kiramman girl, or entering a room with his mother on his arm.

And Mel. Mel cannot forget the heat of his hand on her lower back. But that is not important.

Right now, the three of them are sequestered in one of the university’s lesser used rooms. Close enough to their research that they can feel at ease. The three of them, Mel, Viktor and Jayce, have secured another investment towards the hexgates. This particular investment came at a crucial time, and as Mel has brokered it and Jayce solidified it, a celebration is place.

Already, there's a blush high in Viktor's cheeks that Mel finds endearing. Jayce hangs off him, attempting to pull Viktor's lips into a smile, while that latter bats his hands away. Jayce himself, is shit faced, his state of inebriation evident by his ruddy face and lack of motor skills.

Mel is only delightfully buzzed. Growing up with her mother's warhosts, and on Noxian spirits, Mel is quite capable of holding her own against Piltover wine. She's drunk many a Noxian under the table.

Her state of partial sobriety has allowed her an opportunity for observation. As the hours pass, she noticed that the the constant furrow on Viktor's brow softened, as did his posture and his mouth. He'd spoken more to her tonight than in all their three years of acquaintance. He relaxed into himself, no longer as wound tight as she noted him to be.

Jayce seems to relax as well, morphing into a louder, more affectionate version of himself. He clings to Viktor, unabashed in his fondness for his partner. Viktor takes it all in stride, batting Jayce away when he attempts to drink from his wine glass or braid his hair. He seems resigned to it, but by the twinkle in Viktor's eyes Mel thinks he loves this. Being prodded and brought under arm because his comrade must show affection while drunk.

“He's like this when he drinks,” Viktor tells her, looking down at Jayce's head on his shoulder. He's trying to rid himself of a bout of hiccups but is succeeding only in turning a concerning shade of purple.

Mel moves the bottle of wine away from the two scientists and back to her side of the table. A glance at the label. It isn't one of the stronger wines from her cellar, but it is a good vintage, from vineyards of one of her Medarda cousins. It is weak to Mel, after drinking beet wine from Ironwater and her brother teaching her to drink with spirits snuck from their mother's wine cart.

She rises to fetch them glasses of water. By the time she returns, Viktor is hobbling towards the bathroom, no longer purple but positively green. Mel sets down the water she fetched on the table, moving to help him. Viktor watches her off as his body wretches, his journey towards the bathroom now gaining urgency, a hand thrown over his mouth. The door slams behind him.

On the couch, Jayce is unmoved. He's terribly pretty like this, cheeks ruddy, lips parted and lashes fanning his cheekbones. His dark hair falls back from his face, and he looks young. Boyish. As if enchanted, Mel draws closer.

“You've done well today, Jayce.” She whispers, standing above him, a warmth in her heart she's grown used to feeling when Jayce is within orbit.“ So well that I do believe you are capable of carrying on without my guidance. Without me.”

“‘d never wanna,” he slurs, and she leans down down down. Until the perfect bow of his lips are eye level.

“Hmm?’ she asks, transfixed. His eyes do not open, but he responds all the same, his arms reaching up, encircling her waist. Bringing her down towards him. He is warm and lips lips are sweet from too much wine, and Mel feels a little drunk from them. From him.

[bloodied-terrors]

My idea for Caitlyn's arc in my rewrite because I think I have good ideas I just don't think I could write them to perfection (I'm more of a horror writer then anything LMAO)

Caitlyn gives herself medals and makes herself a decorated officer to obtain Jinx. Its the only way after the memorial she thinks she can get to her since Vi left her before the raids started. She and Jayce fight about the dismantling of Shimmer, with Jayce pushing for it and Caitlyn pushing back! When trying to obtain Jinx she, at first, she puts out a bounty for Jinx's location and tells the undercity that Jinx killed Silco. They don't believe her or the people she sends in as, no duh, there would be no logical reason why Jinx would kill him. So for the most part people are keeping quiet and artwork and false sightings of the revolutionary Jinx keep happening. Caitlyn freezes commerce and trades, fortifying the bridges blockade with Jayce's help, until she can apprehend Jinx. Afterwards Caitlyn dispatches several teams but someone in the team (Probably a new OC who would fight with Maddie who behaves a lot like season one Caitlyn) seeks vengeance. At first it's little things but they become emboldened, getting extremely violent, especially when they find Ekko's tree. The person sets fire to the tree and a fight breaks out in the undercity leaving the enforcers heavily injured or dead. This leaves Caitlyn, the newbie enforcer who used her wealth to rise up the ranks and being a successor of a councilor, with a decision to make. Does she continue the raids as they are or resort to more extreme measures? Does she try to raise the bounty and fire those grieving vengeance driven enforcers or does she have to appease the public (Which Ambessa can be a representation of while also having her own goals)? Perhaps she speaks to Mel for guidance, as she is familiar with war and it's consequences and could guide her.

Perhaps the Grey ends up getting used because Salo, who is getting overshadowed and is starting to act a little more cutthroat to get to Ambessa's power, goes behind Caitlyn's back and gives the enforcers who set the fire the means too use it. And considering how it can choke people out and potentially kill them (I mean look no further then the Chembarons first scene and the life that died around them due to the Grey. Explicitly showing it's devastating and can kill) this causes even more problems. Children of Zaun are being choked out, innocent civilians of Zaun having their lives destroyed by Piltover's desperation, and Vi in utter disbelief because this is the 'healing' Caitlyn wants to bring to the underground?

Eventually Caitlyn gets someone who wants to turn in Jinx for that sweet reward and leads the teams into the underground to apprehend her (As the entire time Jinx has been just killing Enforcers left and right, setting up traps and becoming more of a revolutionary icon to Zaun) but it was a trap. A distraction so Jinx and Sevika could accomplish their real goal, blowing up the bridges that connect the two sister cities. To literally cut off Piltover from Zaun. This leads to a fight where a majority of enforcers are dead and Caitlyn is the only survivor (perhaps?) and lost an eye and was severely injured in that encounter. She barely escapes back to Piltover, perhaps as she's trying to escape seeing the severity of the Grey affect the people of Zaun while also paralleling how Jinx and Vi escaped Enforcers when they were young. While Caitlyn is healing and trying to recoup Ambessa capitalizes on her losses.

This then leads into Caitlyn's more extreme measures to get Jinx and not fully dismantle shimmer (As to her it does have the capabilities to save people's life like Vi for example) as she has suffered heavy losses and wants to make sure no one else gets dies. This is when she starts leading raids via airships, taking an elite team of enforcers (all of high rank enforcers), to stop Jinx.

This is all I have aside from an idea on how the story would end but I am a little busy rn so I'll add it in later as an edit on this post!

[toaverse]

I'll say this. I love Arcane, got into it after a mutual got into the show, then seaon 2 was.. something. I didn't hate it, but I didn't like it blindly. There's some elements I wish were explained better and some that just ruined season 1. The part with the hexgate connected that not only pollutes the undercity, but is also RIGGED TO EXPLODE IF THE HEXGATES GOES TO SHIT makes me think why the hell would Viktor approve this?! Season 1 Viktor would have never agreed to the Hexgates if the trade off is, at best, Zaun getting polluted, and at worst, getting it nuked off the face of the map (which thank god Caitlyn didn't figure that out cause if that crazy to go after Jinx using the gray, I feared what she do with a nuke.)

I have a fanfic in development that will follow mostly season 1 with OCs but adding and changing a lot of Season 2 canon to make it work better. Two examples I will give:

In the six months in between, Swain and his two other members of the triforce go to Piltover to demand Ambessa return and stop the dictatorship as not only is Swain the new Grand General, but that she and her daughter are under suspicion of the black rose due to Kinno (In my version, Swain killed Kinno as he's a member of the Black Rose). Ambessa tries to fight against it, but her soldiers have to follow Swain first and foremost. Swain is the head honcho. And if he says "Stop this bullshit and get back home" then so be it. Cait would object obviously, but Swain couldn't give two fucks about it and gives her a much needed reality check via bitch slap. And this is where I add the crow, cause the crow is associated with Swain and I figure He learn about it sometime, so Swain does spill to Caitlyn that ambessa was behind the memorial attack to get caitlyn on the war path due to Ambessa failing her own daughter so poorly (A post related to how Swain would not think highly of the Medardas explaisn it beautifully and I'll share it) . So now Caitlyn is emotionally humilated and realizes just how much she messed up and how used she was. Because of all this and with Swain, there is no giant Battle. Swain came in and just pulled the plug, and if ambessa still argues against it... he just kills her. Plain and fucking simple.

Black Rose and Mel. TBH, I wasn't a fan of Mel being an affair baby made to a weapon line. So I'm simplifying it to Le Blanc taking interest in Mel cause Kinno mentioned Mel by name and how she be a perfect member of the Black Rose. Rather than just, kidnapping her, Le Blanc grooms her. How could she groom her? This is where I will add the alternate way the bombing in the begnning goes... Viktor's connection to the hexcore somehow protects him, creating a shield that protects only him. I say that cause the shield literally pushes Jayce and Mel to opposite sides with various results. Jayce gets a bad head injury and injures his leg (not too much) while Mel... well. Salo dies in here so... Mel is the one who's lower spine is fucked to the point of getting paralyzed. Yes. I'm flat out making Mel disabled from the attack. This gives Ambessa the perfect oppertunity to remove Mel from the council as she can make the excuse of Mel needing time to recover and being in a delicate condition. The memorial attack was worse, as here, Elora dies and the attack leaves Mel with a worser injury. So Mel is powerless, friendless, watching her mother destroy her city while her surving relationship with Jayce falls apart (making it platonic here) leaving her utterly alone... perfect for LeBlanc to manipulate. Course Mel does rebel but it came at a high cost. That is all I'll share for now but I just want to say that as much as Arcane Season 2 was disappointing, I remember how the best works of art are birthed from Spite. The dome in Florence was created from spite. SO I will make my fanfic of Arcane from spite and love (now I just have to continue writing chapter 1 thought :,3 Thank you for allowing me to drabble.

Thank you for sharing this!

I love the addition of Swain and his no-nonsense attitude towards Ambessa and Cait! Love that shit!

I do have some things I personally would change/leave out, but I don't want to discourage you. Go for it!

Please send me the link once chapter 1 is out!

[balderdashboard]

Okay while im proud of the tarot deck I made of arcane season 1 screenshots, I think it says a lot about the quality of arcane that these brief moments ended up being plot points in season two. Even without knowing why, the audience (me) could pick up on the significance of these pieces.

5 of swords: the necklace

Meaning: arguments about ideas/opinions/morals; no common ground; winning at all costs (or not acknowledging/recognizing the costs); alienation for beliefs

In season 1, the necklace represented Mel's memory of her mother's choice to kill the heir to the kingdom because winning decisively was more important than mercy. In season 2, the necklace takes on the additional meaning, and mel is wearing it when she defeats her mother defending her home.

In both cases it is a symbol of an argument over principles. Actually now I think about, even though she 'loses' in season one and is banished for her weak choice, and wins in season two with her new power, mel loses her mother in both. Which is the lesson of the card--no one wins in war.

4 of pentacles

Meaning: hoarding money, fortune, or power; fear of losing what you have; investments

In season 1, Mel coaches Jayce on how to deal with the council because some of them, like Amara, don't like his interference with their trade deals. They want to hold on to their comforts and power. Jayce invites Amara to invest with him as a hextech partner. In season 2, we see Amara is a black rose, and tries to stop Ambessa from finding the secret power (mel).

Amara here is always trying to prevent change and doesn't want to give up what she considers hers. Unfortunately, as we know from the lessons of the four of pentacles, you can't hold off change forever. And you certainly can't own a person.

[findmeinthelake]

Steel (Jayvik Fanfic)

Chapter One: Transformation

Note: This is also posted to my Ao3, which is under the exact same username

Jayce x Viktor (Arcane), tension, angst, Viktor becoming Machine Herald, Machine Herald

"Those stupid words that came out of Jayce's lips... fuck."

“Jayce will understand.”

His previous choice of words still stuck in his head, bouncing off his skull and causing yet another headache. 

Viktor sighed.

Jayce did not understand, yet here Viktor stood- next to his friend whom he loved dearly. Why did he do these things for Jayce when he got nothing in return?

Love. Unconditional love. 

---

“Mel?” Jayce called, coughing and covering his eyes, shielding them from the dust that clouded the room. 

Soft groans came from the rubble, the remnants of the council chambers shifting as those who survived cried out for help.

The Golden Boy dove at the stones, trying to find his lover. He sifted through the pile, looking for any sign of life. 

“Please, Mel…” Jayce whispered, “Please.”

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of falling rocks and the pitter patter of enforcer footsteps. 

Then came the sobs, awful screams of agony. No one could tell if it was a trapped soul, or the one who found their body.

That, right there, was his biggest mistake.

- 

Dark grey rocks crumbled as Viktor tried moving his already weakened limbs. This was going to get nowhere.

He inhaled sharply, holding back coughs of dust to listen in. Faintly, Viktor could hear Jayce calling out. 

His amber eyes lit up as he gained hope, thinking, no, knowing, his partner was looking for him. Viktor could finally smile.

“Mel… please.”

Viktor barely heard the whispers from under the rubble, struggling to free his left arm that had become pinned between two pieces of metal. 

Those stupid words that came out of Jayce’s lips… fuck.

No one was looking for him.

No one cared.

---

The lab was just like how he left it- messy. Good. He knew where everything was left.

Viktor limped over, not wearing the glove that had previously concealed his augmented hand. He dropped his crutch, gathering his supplies.

He frantically scooped up blueprints and materials, shoving them into a bag. Jayce will miss none of this. He thought to himself. 

Jayce never noticed anything anymore.

Viktor sighed, double-checking that he grabbed everything of importance. Yup.

He was good to go.

-

“Home sweet home.” Viktor murmured, walking down the entrance of the cave. He carried his belongings in a heavy bag, straining his shoulder.

“I assume he didn’t.” The Doctor spoke, bandages covering his mouth as he answered the statement from days ago.

Viktor shook his head in disappointment. “He… he did not.” He calmly spoke, setting his bag of stuff down.

Singed had a history with Viktor, as they had met when the young boy stumbled into his lab. They didn’t see entirely eye to eye on things, but, ends could be met.

The older man didn’t have to ask. He eyed Viktor’s altered leg, examining the purple and black skin. “Are you willing to give up valuable things?”

“Like what?” Viktor asked, cocking his head. He had already lost his friend, his lab, and his trust in people.

Flicking a vial, Singed replied with two words. A horrifying trade.

“Your humanity.”

Viktor gave a slow nod, accepting the consequences. 

Singed smiled, glad his old friend was beginning to agree with him. 

“Get rid of all of it. I want it all gone.” Viktor muttered, “Every last part that renders me slower- more of a, how do you put this, risk? Anything you can do, do it.”

The chemist nodded, walking over towards Viktor. “It will take a toll on you. Emotions are what drive the mind, boy.”

Viktor closed his watery eyes, whispering “I don’t want to be human anymore.”

“As you wish.” Singed replied, tracing Viktor’s arm with the needle. He flicked the scientist’s small tricep, squeezing around his arm to find the vein. 

The needle had a cool sensation. Viktor didn’t question what was being injected in him, as he didn’t wish to know the pain he would endure. Yet. All things have a price. His amber eyes got heavy, weighing down on his face. He watched Singed grab a small saw, blinking rapidly as the restraints were tightened.

---

Was it real gold? Or was it fake, just in place to make Piltover, The City of Progress, look exquisite? 

Why is this the shit I ponder? Jayce scolded himself. He could be doing something important- something worthwhile. But no. He sat and stared at the fancy ass door that should’ve been opened over an hour ago.

“Mr. Talis?” A voice called, the sharp steps echoing around the room. 

Jayce perked up, scratching at the side of his face where the cut was. “Yes?” He asked, standing up and turning towards the enforcer. He wiped the small amount of blood off his cheek. The stupid thing kept reopening… constant reminder that he failed.

The enforcer coughed, crumpling the piece of paper. “There is still no sign of Viktor.” She paused, watching the Councilor’s expression turn from hopeful to blank. “He is now presumed dead, most likely caught in the blast of the explosion and, well, vaporized.”

Vaporized.

With a quickened heartbeat, Jayce whimpered. No… that can’t be true. Not Vik… A tear ran down his cheek, running over the small cut. First Mel, now this?

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, sir. Viktor is dead.”

The world froze. Nothing mattered anymore. Years down the drain… Everything was so real now, coming into the limelight and falling onto him. He never got to say goodbye.

Without another word, Jayce headed out the door. Surely there would be some clues in the lab, right? Work Viktor left behind?

-

Jayce opened the door, twisting the familiar key in his hand. He peered in, wide-eyed and half expecting to see his old partner at work on one of their many projects. 

He walked along the lengthy desk, tracing his index finger in the dust, drawing obscure shapes. Maybe if he had paid more attention to Viktor, he would know where to look. 

The hexcore was gone, but even when Vik was… alive… it was gone. Maybe Heimerdinger had it destroyed in secret? 

“We could have done so much together…” Jayce whispered to the nothingness in the room, waiting for a response that wouldn’t come. 

If only you didn’t leave him- and for a girl of all things. Maybe he would have trusted you more. Confided in you. But NO. 

Jayce winced, clawing at his temples and tearing the wound on his upper cheek open. “Go away… please.” He whimpered, staring at the center of the room. He contemplated grabbing the pistol he now carried.

Nothing responded.

He was alone. No one was left to do his work, look after him, let him lean on them- they were all fucking gone because of him. He could’ve done more.

Progress isn’t something that comes to those who don’t strive for it. The future is now, and the past needs to be left behind. The dawn of tomorrow is coming, and Jayce doesn’t want to be left behind.

That is his greatest fear.

---

Nothing.

Viktor grunted, struggling against the restraints. He didn’t say anything- didn’t want to see. His eyes were wide with excitement, but also regret. 

“You’re awake?” Singed spoke, walking over to the boy and grabbing him by the jaw, using a small flashlight to look into his pupils. 

The Inventor nodded, a million thoughts surging through his mind. Did it go well? How far along was he? Is he gone?

Singed undid the restraints, occasionally glancing up at the man he operated on. “It’s just your legs for now.” He paused, undoing the last restraint and pointing at the ground, “Test them out, go on.” 

Viktor furrowed his brows, asking “Why not the other parts-” 

“I need to see how your body reacts to the change. I know you mixed magic and science by carving runes into yourself, and by doing that, you made yourself the one controlled variable we are allowed.” The Chemist explained, blankly stating what he found to be quite obvious. 

Cold. Viktor traced the steel with his fingers, standing up and shaking. It would take him a minute to find his balance, but he could walk. 

He grinned.

The new limbs were quite nice indeed. He paced around the room, flexing the metal limbs. “They’re beautiful.” He whispered, “More, please, doctor.” He asked, sitting on the table once more.

“I cannot pair your nerves with the mechanics- you will never be able to feel anything with your hands again.” Singed muttered, his mask slipping. He almost felt bad for the boy. 

Viktor nodded. “My organs- can you replace them too?”

Singed silently agreed.

Viktor leaned back, closing his eyes as Singed flooded his bloodstream with shimmer. Now would hopefully be the final time.

-

An orange glow tinted the room, only the experiment tubes providing other light. The steady sound of creaking filled the space, water dripping from somewhere above. 

Without a word, Viktor opened his eyes. He moved his limbs, noticing he wasn’t tethered down to the operating table like before.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up.”

Viktor looked towards the Chemist, standing up. “How long has it been?” He asked, blankly stating the question. 

Singed sighed, “Almost one month. Your body took quite the toll.” He explained, finding a mirror for the boy to look into. “The shimmer has a fair share of side effects, which would explain your prolonged sleep.”

The face in the mirror was not one Viktor recognized. His eyes were a milky shade of black, only having his amber pupils to stand out. Cheeks that were once colorless were now replaced with steel. A neck with many unique marks was covered in sections of metal, moving smoothly on itself. 

“I hope you like it.” Singed whispered, watching Viktor touch his new face with metal fingertips.

“I am satisfied.” Viktor replied, a faint smile cracking on his lips. He ran his new hands through his fluffy brown hair, twisting it around his fingers like he used to as a boy. 

Nothing. He felt nothing. 

The Mechanical Man unbuttoned his shirt, looking at his torso. He still had some skin, but his ribcage was guarded by a steel chamber, along with his spine that ran up the back of his head.

Singed explained “I hope you don’t mind the small changes. I had to extend it slightly up the back of your skull after I… altered your brain.”

Viktor felt at the back of his head, hearing only the sound of metal on metal. His brown waves that were previously there were cut, replaced by the steel plating. He still had most of his hair, but the sections near the metal were cut extremely short to account for the surgery.

“It’s only a small section that is hidden.” Viktor replied, shrugging before putting his shirt back on. “Even then, it doesn’t matter.”

“Then it worked.” Singed smirked. “Before, you would have thrown a small fit.” 

The Scientist nodded. “Good. Then I look relatively the same, aside from the sides of my cheeks and eyes?”

Singed coughed, “Yes.” He murmured, handing Viktor a small metal mask. “This is so you aren’t… how should I say this… ostracized? Society won’t like you like this.”

Viktor took the mask, examining it. It was beautifully crafted as a gift for him. “Thank you, Doctor.” He smiled, “But society didn’t like me before, it will be no different now.”

“They will hate you.”

“So be it.” Viktor muttered, attaching the mask to his face. It heavily altered his voice, giving it more of a… robotic feel. “I have things I need from my lab.”

---

Jayce walked down the hallway, doing his nightly walk. 

It was a new routine for him- pace around and think.

He passed the lab twice now. Jayce avoided the door like the disease it was- it had ruined his life once, and he wasn’t going to let it ruin it again. 

CLANK.

A rattling sound came from the lab, followed by a string of angry curse words. 

Jayce stood in front of the door, his hand inches away from the handle. Should he open it? What if it is bad?

His curiosity got the best of him. Jayce twisted the knob, entering the room. His hazel eyes met an orange glow coming from the desk as someone, or something, rummaged through the drawers. 

“Show yourself!” Jayce barked, ordering the thief to step into the light. “I’m armed!” He yelled, holding the weapon at his side.

The stranger walked over, revealing a mask of steel. He stared at Jayce, watching him tremble. 

Jayce shook, eyeing the tufts of brown hair that stuck out into a similar fashion that Viktor’s did. “Vik?” He whispered, lowering the gun. 

“What?” Viktor mumbled, his voice masked by metal. “Did you really th- OW FUCK.” He yelled, holding his side.

Jayce panicked, looking at the gun he just fired. “Oh my god…”

Viktor swatted at Jayce, “Get away from me, traitor!” He grunted, shoving more stuff into his bag with gloved hands.

“They told me you were dead…” Jayce cried, dropping the gun. “I thought I lost you.”

“You have.” Viktor blankly stated, eyeing the ‘Golden Boy’. “Now, leave.”

Jayce shook his head, “No, absolutely- absolutely not!” He yelled, walking rapidly towards Viktor and jumping at his face. 

Trying to shake him off, Viktor grabbed at Jayce. “Get off me, dammit!” 

“What did they do to you?” Jayce yelled, pulling at the mask. “I can help you, Vik, we all can- the city will help you. I am here for-”

Jayce went silent as he fell to the floor, carrying the mask with him. He looked up at his old friend’s face, seeing his altered eyes and the steel on his cheeks and neck. 

“I did this to myself.” Viktor answered, staring at Jayce on the floor, taking off his gloves and revealing his metal limbs. “It’s quite nice, actually.”

“Vik…” Jayce whispered, tearing up as he looked more and more. He stood up, walking over and grabbing Viktor’s steel hands. “We will make this work… it will take time, but we will make it work.”

Viktor watched as Jayce traced his hands. “Stop.” He ordered.

Jayce looked down at him, his brows knitting together. “What?”

“I can no longer feel the sand under my feet. Never again can I feel the warmth and touch of someone’s hand on my own. It means nothing to me.”

Jayce shook his head, unable to believe this was the same person as before. “Vik, I love you. I always have.”

Viktor tilted his head, taking his mask back and sealing the bag he carried. 

“Love is conditional, Jayce.”

[froggydafroggy]

Artistic Movements in Arcane: Art Deco

Arcane places a lot of attention to art and visual language. Piltover has an immediate steampunky vibe and Zaun has a deep industral, punk, urban feel, which the sets and objects use to carry clear deeper messages. It should be no surprise that there’s clearly a lot of influence from artistic movements throughout the past 400-500 years. The art appreciator in me wants to point them out, starting with:

ART DECO This hallmark of the roaring 20s is probably the most obvious movement. Characterised by bold lines, geometrical motifs, striking colours, and detailed craftmanship, it’s pretty much Piltover’s whole thing. Art Deco came from a time of prosperity and luxury, interest in science, curiousity in the exoticised other places. That fits Piltover, a prosperous city that is Runeterra’s bastion of trade and progress, pretty well. You can find it pretty much everywhere in Piltover. While making this analysis, I just kept taking screen shots until I realised that Piltover is effectively just a big ball of Art Deco. 

Arcane’s logo itself.

It’s on this lamp and the tiles.

These buildings.

The chairs in the council room.

In Caitlyn’s SHOWER. The SHOWER, for God’s sake.

The list could go on, and it’s clear why Piltover gets so much out of this movement. The intricate style of Art Deco is so evoking of science and prosperity. And the rigid angles of the various geometric figures could be interpreted as quite symbolic of the rigid hierarchy and the stiff, ineffective council.

Mel is clearly the most Art Decked Out character. She is the epitome of wealth, political power, and trade. Her actions are the driving force in the council. Being kicked out by her mother from Noxus, she thrives as a people person and business mogul in Piltover. She is arguably the one with the most highest authority. She loves her new home and wants to show it as much as possible, especially in a way to cast off her old time in Noxus.

Other characters with significant Art Deco in their designs are Jayce and Silco. Jayce is pretty much the face of Piltover and a big enthusiast of technology, progress, and science. He has it all. Meanwhile, Silco covets progress and wealth for Zaun. He’s essentially dressing for sucess. His motif of red, gold, and black accents parallel Jayce’s red, gold, and white. Both want prosperity for their people, hence the gold, have a lot of dedication to their work, hence the passionate red, but are on opposing sides, hence the black and white.

There is so much Art Deco in Arcane I could really go on and on, but time is short and I plan to explore other movements as well.

[moonsdancer]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass it to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Oooh, cool!

This exercise was funny because I made myself revisit old, old fic lol. It's crazy how one's writing develops. I forced myself to only pick one per fandom. Anyway, here we go:

5. we survive; we always survive (a dark comedy) | Bonnie Bennett/Caroline Forbes/Elena Gilbert | a zombie apocalypse poly romance bc why not

Extract:

They slept curled around each other.

As the least violent sleeper and the warmest of the three, Bonnie often found herself stuck in the middle. Her arms wrapped around her two friends as if they were all three drowning, and by sheer force of will, she might be able to keep them afloat with the strength of her arms. Caroline was a snuggler. She burrowed into any crevice she could find. Her favourite spot was Bonnie’s shoulder, right near where her pulse thrummed with the sweet scent of blood; it reminded her vaguely of pop tarts. Elena was a clinger. She clutched Bonnie’s hand in a claw-like grip that didn’t let up even in the deepest parts of the night, almost as though she was afraid they’d all disappear. Sometimes it hurt, made Bonnie grunt, “Ow, vampire strength, ‘Lena,” and she loosened her tight-wound fingers—but not by much.

4. if i’m lost then how can i find myself? | Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood | Shadowhunters | pre-relationship, Alec & touch starvation (before the show pissed me off as these shows do)

Extract:

It’s funny. But Alec doesn’t feel like a soldier when Magnus touches him, stuck in a centuries-old supernatural war they're not winning. He doesn’t feel like a blunt instrument to be thrown at the Clave for some unseemly purpose or like something to be patched up after a bloody battle.  

He’s just Alec, and Magnus Bane’s fingers are stroking the side of his jaw. Everything in his life feels like it could blow up in his face at any moment. But this, a hand on his cheek is nice. It makes him feel grounded and like he could float at once.

3. you're so (not) my type | Josie Mccoy/Reggie Mantle | Riverdale | 180 seconds of screen time and these two had me obsessed, ofc the show became so unwatchable but it peaked here for me.

Extract: “What’s going on with you and the walking jockstrap?”

2. drink the fatal drop, then fall apart in parts | Daenerys Targaryen & Jon Snow | Game of Thrones | in which the lord of light brings Dany back as a vampire and she goes on a revenge spree, starting with her killer - written in the throes of s8 rage lol. Basically a Kill Bill, Volume Dragon Queen, lol. I like how batshit it is, lol.

Extract:

“Yes—yes you did, Jon Snow.” She’s watching him the way a maester might watch a dull experiment. “I suppose it’s what you do, isn’t it? Kill people you love.” She says it with a calculated cruelty that makes him wince with every word

1.the wolf has golden teeth | Mel Medarda (& some Mel x Jayce) | Arcane | a Mel study spanning from childhood to the finale, I'll always be proud of this one. It's my truest love letter to Mel, and I've written several lbrh.

Extract:

He touches his forehead to hers just like they did as children and says, sure and warm as he always is even though his eyes are sorrowful, “We will meet again, sister, I promise you.” And she believes him because out of everyone, Kino has never lied to her. Not once. He steps back, his dark locs falling across his brow as he reaches into his pockets to procure a sealed letter. “Take this and head south to Rokrund, then east to Piltover by sea. Rhodri Ferros will take you in – at least until you decide what to do.”

“Why would they?” She’s never heard of the Ferros beyond reading some of the histories of Piltover, a city well-known even throughout Noxus for its industrial and trading prowess.

Kino smirks, a sharp thing full of teeth that reminds her a little too much of Mother. “Let’s just say, they owe me one.”

Tagging:

@laufire

@melmedarda

@synergetic-prose

@dontbotherwiththepronunciation

Anyone keen!

[letters-to-rosie]

the fan is a good point---the mines likely have moved. there are probably still some, but obviously it's not as common as it was in Silco's day, because his whole pitch to the chembarons is also "let me remind you why we're not going back to the mining days," which also implies that the worst of that time is behind them, but it would have needed to exist at one point in order for Piltover to grow and get the label of city of progress and finance things like mines overseas (the question then is whether the mines are privately owned or owned by Piltover as an entity... the type of capitalism is vague but we clearly have something)

I've made a couple posts elsewhere talking about the idea that Zaunites commute to Piltover in large numbers, also based on the idea of the blockade (and because you can't convince me that Pilties do their own, say, sanitation work wholesale), and multiple posts calling what Jayce and Viktor do to the city's economy "hexgate neoliberalism," which doesn't map onto the setting perfectly but works a little too nicely lol. the short of it would is that the rise of neoliberalism in the western world typically also meant the decline of industry-centered economies. the factories get offshored, the economy moves more towards trade and service, and the city becomes a "financial center." they had those before but they had more factories and stuff

hexgates seems to have had a similar effect, making Piltover a "global shipping lane," as Shoola puts it, and clearly most of the city's wealthiest people require the hexgates to do business (the Mel and Jayce scene at the theater). they could still be involved in mining/industry, but that's happening less, probably

AND the other clue is the way that neoliberalism affects something that is really important to Marx's analysis of capitalism, the surplus army of labor. these are like unemployed people who want to be employed and are kept out of the labor market so capitalists can keep control over their workforce, so there's always a place to fall down to, and so the surplus army of labor can be called on for seasonal work, etc. but you don't want this group to be too big. Marx claims that the group being too big is a major driver of English and Irish immigrants to the US in the 1800s. and lowkey implies it's the reason, other than racism and stealing land, for the potato famine. anyway, under neoliberalism, the surplus army of labor starts getting kinda big and winds up more and more precarious. so we see now, like 50 years into neoliberalism, the rise of gig work, terrible job stability everywhere, etc, and the global advent of neoliberalism also coincides historically with changes in the global drug trade. I read an article about this during my masters lol. in the US, Michelle Alexander's famous book The New Jim Crow suggests that this shift led to the war on drugs, that as industrialism fell, drug use rose, and the surplus army of labor was shuffled off to prison more and more

it's easy to imagine how increased worker precarity and generally worsening conditions for the poor would be kinda convenient for a guy wanting to sell a certain purple substance and in need to a network to get it out there. and that relying less on industry and mining would make it easier for the wealthy to ignore it

There is a theory that the way children play serves as a means to simulate and prepare them for the tasks they'll take on as adults. So for all the narrative weight both Jinx and the story give the boxing machine at the arcade it would never have prepared her or the kids to take on Piltover.

What are the two things that Piltovans excel at over their Zaunite counterparts to keep the hierarchy? Weapons and technological development.

When you look at the way Piltovans invest in their children, they don't prioritize hand to hand/melee combat training. Piltovans focus on giving their children experiences in handling firearms, a pursuit that is both leisure sport for the wealthy and a key offense against dissenting Zaunites.

And from the show notes even Jayce, whose family occupies the upper middle class, was sent on educational excursions across Runeterra to explore the world and learn what it had to offer. Without Jayce's education abroad he would never have been inspired to pursue the concept hextech.

It's no wonder that the two figures that are set to be Piltover's biggest threats from Zaun are Jinx and Viktor, becasue they engaged in the same kinds of games and activities as their Piltovan counterparts.

Jinx didn't have an entire forest to preserved to help her practice her sharpshooting like the high houses of Piltover, but she did excel in the few games at The Rift (the arcade) that built on her talents. She's the only Zaunite thus far who's long distance offensive is a strong counter to Piltover's forces.

Viktor couldn't travel the world like Jayce did, but for better or worse he managed to stumble into an opportunity to get real opportunity in research not offered to his peers through Singed. It was through that experience that Viktor knew to turn to Singed when he was at the end of his rope, and the consequences of that will be fully realized in season 2.

Ironically, the kind of skill the boxing game champions is only good for keeping other Zaunites in line. Vander's days of fighting Piltover were way behind him when we first met him, and Vi spends season 1 primarily fighting other Zaunites. It's no surprise the Zaunites who embody the old ideal of strength in Zaun that the game portrays, Vi and Vander, are largely at the mercy of Piltover and end up collaborating with them to avoid further harm.

Zaun's future as an independent city-state couldn't happen if they stuck to their old ideals. The people who stand a chance against Piltover are the ones that not only succeed but excel at playing Piltover's games against them.

[themirokai]

This is for @fleursdusang who mentioned the idea of Mel/Viktor in the notes over here and then the idea got lodged in my brain and then uh my hand slipped.

I always write Viktor as gay. I am 1000% team Jayvik. And yet and yet … this would not leave me alone.

So have some MelVik:

It works when they stay in their lanes. Viktor does not talk about domestic policy. At least to Mel. Mel does not talk about practical applications of Hextech. At least to Viktor. Topics of conversation that are mutually off-limits include but are not limited to Jayce Talis and Professor Heimerdinger. Topics on which they agree include and are largely limited to music (loud, dramatic, full orchestra or bust), literature (prose, not too flowery, compelling plot), and the ridiculous dullness of most Piltovians they have to endure (the exception being Jayce Talis, who they do not discuss). They can talk about international trade but it tends to veer too close to off-limits topics and get dodgy. It’s not like they spend much time talking anyway.

It works because they both like a challenge. Viktor looks at Mel like she is a problem to solve. Mel looks at Viktor like he is a foe to vanquish. The ensuing struggle is hotter than either of them expected when they started this. They both end up with bruises and scratches but are mindful not to leave them anywhere visible. On a memorable occasion when Viktor was at the forge with Jayce, he had removed his tie and undone a few buttons on his shirt in a concession to the scorching heat. What happened to your chest? Jayce had asked him, staring at the lines of fingernail marks. Viktor had glared at him and buttoned his shirt.

There had been a gala. Jayce had begged Viktor to go with him. They were partners! Jayce shouldn’t have to do all the people stuff himself! He wasn’t even that good at it! Viktor relented. Once there, and after a glass of champagne that probably cost more than his parents’ apartment, Viktor noticed how Mel was looking at Jayce. Like he was a meal. Like he was a toy. That wouldn’t do. Viktor had made sure her attention was directed elsewhere.

Neither of them had expected it to last more than one night. But then … it had worked. They had figured out how to make it work. For now.