#zaun became a shallower world

[mollysunder]

I think when Arcane shifted the story to focus on one of those world-ending threats it somehow made the world smaller. The relationships became less intimate and more rote to the plot. When we do get strong character moments, the way their actions should reverberate across their network is cut off.

For example, when Jinx chose to set fire to The Last Drop it was a really striking moment for Jinx as she reached rock bottom, but the show fails to grapple with the fact this was also the place Sevika was living and working in. Act 2 of Jinx Fixes Everything revealed that Sevika had been sleeping and working in Silco's office ever since he died, dealing with her own grief that way.

Sevika probably has a home to return to but that isn't the point, the point is Jinx destroyed a place that wasn't just significant to her and members of the main cast, but the larger community that is Zaun. How does Sevika react? How does she still choose to work with Jinx after this moment? What about the other members of Silco's gang that followed Sevika into battle? The Last Drop was a part of a lot of people's lives, and Sevika is emblematic of that deep attachment, but we can't see her grieve it's destruction because there's no space for it in the show.

[thesecondhandwoman]

(SPOILERS FOR ACT THREE)

THE ARCANE’S GRASP

Sevika x f!reader

Summary: In the chaos of Viktor’s arcane creations wreaking havoc, Sevika is overtaken by the glowing tendrils of Arcane’s magic, her body suspended in a terrifying trance. As she is consumed, you desperately fight to reach her, only to be ensnared by the arcane yourself.

The chaos erupted around you as Piltover, holding all people from Noxus to Zaun, transformed into a battlefield of terror and desperation. Viktor’s arcane creations surged like a tidal wave, tendrils of golden light snaking through the air, seizing anyone within reach. The sound of battle—screams, explosions, metal clanging against metal—was deafening, but it all faded when your eyes landed on Sevika.

She stood tall in the thick of it, her mechanical arm smashing through the glowing constructs, the harsh slams of her quick fists barely audible over the cacophony. But the arcane wasn’t just targeting the weak or slow. It moved like it had a mind of its own, and it was coming for her.

“Sevika!” you shouted, your voice raw with fear as the golden tendrils wrapped around her arm. She thrashed, grunting as she tried to rip them off, but more latched onto her forehead. Her eyes went wide before glazing over with that same golden glow, and you watched in horror as the markings began to appear beneath her eyes, crawling across her face like veins of molten light. Her limbs lifted, weightless, her body floating against her will as the arcane tightened its grip.

“No, no, no!” The words tore from your throat as you bolted toward her, your feet slipping on the rubble. She wasn’t just being attacked—she was being consumed. The Sevika you knew, the strong, brash woman who fought like she had nothing left to lose, was slipping away before your eyes.

“Get off her!” you screamed, desperate, reaching out for her even as she remained suspended in the air. Her lips parted like she was trying to speak, but the glow in her eyes drowned out any sign of recognition.

Before you could reach her, something cold and sharp wrapped around your own body: the arcane.

It latched onto your legs, snaking up your torso, and you clawed at it, panic surging through you. The tendrils burned where they touched, the heat radiating through your skin and into your veins. You thrashed, tears blurring your vision, but it was no use.

“Sevika!” you sobbed, your voice cracking as the arcane dragged you back. Your body jerked violently, limbs stiffening as the same glow began to overtake your vision. The last thing you saw was her face—her features slack and unfamiliar, consumed by something unnatural.

The world was eerily quiet when you woke. A pounding ache in your head made it hard to think, and your limbs felt heavy, like you’d been dragged through hell. Groaning, you pushed yourself up from the ground, blinking against the dim light.

The battlefield was littered with bodies—most of them stirring slowly, like you. The arcane had released them, its influence shattered when the last of Viktor’s constructs was destroyed. You didn’t know who or what had done it; you were too disoriented to care. All that mattered was Sevika.

Your head whipped around, searching frantically until your eyes found her. She was slumped on the ground nearby, her body half-buried in rubble. Her arm twitched faintly, but she wasn’t moving otherwise.

“Sevika!” you gasped, crawling over to her, your legs barely supporting your weight when you tried to stand. The closer you got, the clearer the damage became. The markings were still faintly visible on her skin, though the glow in her eyes had faded. She looked… broken.

You fell to your knees beside her, shaking her shoulder. “Sevika, wake up! Please, come on!”

Her head lolled to the side, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought she wasn’t breathing. But then her chest rose, shallow but steady. Relief hit you like a freight train, and a sob escaped your throat.

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered, clutching her shirt as you pressed your forehead to hers. “Don’t you dare leave me, Sev. You promised.”

A low groan broke through the silence, and you pulled back to see her eyelids fluttering. When her eyes opened, they were the familiar steel-gray you loved, clouded with confusion and exhaustion.

“Doll..?” she rasped, her voice weak but alive.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you cupped her cheek. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Her gaze softened for just a moment before her lips twisted into a faint smirk. “Thought… you weren’t gonna cry over me.”

You let out a watery laugh, your heart clenching as you held her close. “Shut up,” you murmured, burying your face in her neck. “I thought I lost you.”

Her hand, trembling but determined, reached up to rest against your back. “Not getting rid of me that easy,” she muttered, her voice steadying as the seconds passed.

Around you, the world began to stir, people rising from the rubble, groaning and coughing as they tried to make sense of what had happened. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

All that mattered was that she was still here.

Your heart continued to race as you held Sevika against you, her warmth grounding you, keeping you tethered to reality. The fight, the chaos, the fear—it all felt distant now despite only happening minutes ago.

Her presence was everything you needed in that moment.

Sevika’s fingers brushed through your hair, the touch gentle but steady, as if reminding herself you were still there, that you were both still standing. She let out a shaky breath, and you could feel her body slowly easing into the relief of no longer being controlled by the arcane.

“Hey,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with an overwhelming tenderness. You lifted your face to look at her, brushing the damp strands of hair from her forehead, your fingers lingering there, touching the skin you almost thought you’d lost. “You’re okay, they are gone now. You’re safe.”

Sevika’s gaze flickered, her tired eyes studying your face with an unreadable expression. The intensity of what had happened still hung in the air, but there was a sense of calm in her that you couldn’t quite place. She pulled you closer, her breath warm against your cheek, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had stopped, as if time itself had granted you both this fragile peace.

“How’s your head?” you asked out of the worry swarming in your head still, brushing your thumb over her temple, where the faintest remnants of the arcane markings still lingered.

“Feels like I got hit by a freight train,” she replied with a dry chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She let out a slow breath, pulling you even closer. “But I’ll survive.”

You smiled softly, leaning in until your lips brushed against hers. The kiss was gentle at first, cautious, like you both needed to feel each other to reassure yourselves that this was real. That she was real. Her lips were warm, familiar—still soft despite everything that had happened. The taste of her lingered on your tongue, grounding you in the present.

Sevika pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her eyes full of emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. You stroked her cheek, your heart aching for her in a way you couldn’t explain.

“God, y-you scared me so bad,” you murmured, your voice thick with unspoken fears. “I don’t… I don’t ever want to lose you, and this time it felt so close, I—.”

Her hand slid up to your neck, her fingers threading into your hair, and she tilted your face toward hers. This time, the kiss was deeper, more urgent. It was as if she was trying to remind herself that she was still here, still yours, despite everything that had almost torn you apart.

When you finally broke the kiss, she pressed her forehead to yours, her breathing ragged but calming. “I’m not going anywhere, doll,” she whispered, the words laced with promise.

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, your hands gripping her shoulders as if to keep her tethered to you. The sounds of the aftermath—the groans and shuffling from the others waking up—seemed to fade into the background. In this moment, it was just you and Sevika, and everything else could wait.

“I don’t care if the world’s falling apart,” you muttered against her lips, “as long as you’re with me.”

Sevika’s chuckle rumbled in her chest, low and almost teasing. “You’ve got a funny way of making the end of the world feel… bearable.”

You smiled, brushing your lips against hers once more before pulling back to gaze into her eyes. There was still a shadow of exhaustion lingering in them, but now there was something more—a quiet strength, something resilient.

She reached up to gently brush the tears from your face, her touch tender. “You’re crying again,” she murmured, though there was no teasing in her tone this time. Only affection.

“Only because I’m just so damn glad you’re here,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like everything was right in the world. You were both alive, both here, and for once, the overwhelming weight of everything felt just a little lighter.

She sighed, pulling you back into her embrace. “Then stop crying,” she said softly, her lips brushing against your forehead. “because I don’t ever plan on leaving soon, especially with those fucking things finally gone.”

You nodded, curling into her, letting her warmth and the quiet assurance of her presence calm the storm that had been swirling inside you. You didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, you had everything you needed.

And as the others around you began to recover, groaning and pulling themselves from the wreckage, you held onto Sevika, cherishing the simple truth that you’d survived the worst of it together.

[knoepfl]

Mad Genius, Part ||||

Characters: - Viktor – A brilliant but physically frail scientist whose passion for progress often drives him to take risks.  - Reader (You) – A chaotic but genius inventor from Zaun. Once rational and sharp, your mind has spiraled into madness due to overuse of experimental powders you created. Obsessed with Viktor, you break into his lab to meet him for the first time. 

Trigger Warnings:

• Mentions of mental illness and paranoia

• Themes of obsession and manipulation

• Animal harm (destruction of a rat)

• Mentions of abuse and isolation

• Themes of obsession and unrequited love

• Violence and dark imagery

• References to drug use and addiction

Masterlist

Part 1: Mad Genius

Part 2: Mad Genius

Part 3: Mad Genius

Words: 1548

--- Nothing. Empty sewer tunnels filled with rotting food and the occasional lifeless rat. A repulsive place most would avoid. But not you. To you, it was home—your sanctuary. The one place in all of Zaun that made sense, aside from Viktor’s lab. You walked along the damp corridors with a soft grin, your left hand in your pocket while your right hand spun a glowing amber vial. The powder inside glimmered faintly, its particles dancing like fireflies under the faint light.

Your footsteps echoed against the stone walls, a rhythm only you seemed to notice. To anyone else, the tunnels were silent. But not for you. No, your world was never silent.

Voices screamed your name, a relentless cacophony that only grew louder the more you ignored them. Phantom bugs crawled across your skin, leaving behind an itch that no amount of scratching could ease. And then there were the footsteps—constant, lingering, making you turn your head more times than necessary. None of it real, yet all of it consuming.

A low chuckle escaped your lips. It was almost funny now, thinking back to how it all began. How you became this. Twisted? Maybe. But you preferred unique. A truly remarkable human being, you thought with a sly smile.

Your gaze dropped to the floor, where a dying rat lay sprawled before you. Its hind legs were missing, its body heaving with shallow breaths. It was helpless, fragile, clinging to life with the last vestiges of adrenaline pumping through its veins. You crouched down, tilting your head as you watched it struggle.

“Fascinating,” you murmured. The rat’s heart pounded so fast you half expected it to burst. For a moment, you considered using the vial in your hand, just to see what would happen. After all, it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. Viktor had been as cold and indifferent as ever, leaving you to your own devices.

"Sorry, little guy," you said with a sigh, standing back up.

You raised your foot and brought it down swiftly. The sharp squeal of the rat was cut short by the crunch of its tiny bones. Without so much as a glance, you continued down the tunnel, the glowing vial still spinning between your fingers.

The tunnels stretched endlessly before you, their shadows shifting like whispers of ghosts. You found comfort in their silence, even as the world within your mind roared louder with every step. Your grip on the vial tightened, the glow of the Amber powder casting faint, eerie patterns on the damp walls. Each flicker of light was like a heartbeat, steady, rhythmic, and entirely yours to control.

The voices clawed at your mind again, their tones rising and falling in a chaotic symphony. They weren’t cruel—no, they were your companions, your confidants. They cheered your every step, celebrated your every decision. Yet sometimes, they mocked.

"You’ll never have him. He thinks you’re broken. A pest."

A sharp laugh burst from your lips, echoing down the empty tunnel. "Broken?" you murmured to no one, or perhaps to the voices themselves. "No, I’m the one who fixes. They don’t see it yet, but they will."

The rat’s remains faded from your thoughts as you moved further into your sanctuary. Your pace was unhurried, each step deliberate, almost meditative. You weren’t in a rush; after all, what did time matter in a place like this? The world above could spiral into chaos without you—it often did.

Your fingers continued to roll the vial, the powder inside swirling with mesmerizing precision. A faint hum escaped your throat, a melody born from the fragments of lullabies you could barely remember. They were cracked and distorted now, much like everything else in your life.

The echo of your footsteps faltered as you reached a small alcove in the tunnel. It was cluttered with vials, notes, and crude diagrams scrawled on scraps of paper. Your sanctuary within a sanctuary. You set the Amber vial on a makeshift table, its glow casting warm light over the chaotic array.

Reaching for another vial, this one filled with a deep crimson powder, you held it up to the light. "Crimson," you whispered, your voice reverent. It was your masterpiece, your magnum opus. It held the power to unravel minds, to strip away the veneer of civility and reveal the raw, untamed emotions beneath.

And yet, even with all your creations, something was missing.

"Viktor," you said softly, his name like a prayer on your lips. The voices in your head quieted, as if they, too, were listening. "Why can’t you see? Everything I’ve done is for you. For us."

Your hand trembled as you set the Crimson vial down beside the Amber. The thought of him rejecting you, of seeing you as nothing more than a monster, was unbearable. But you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop. He would understand—eventually.

A sudden, sharp noise echoed through the tunnel, pulling you from your thoughts. You froze, your head snapping toward the source. For a moment, you thought it might be him, but the sound faded into silence.

The voices returned, louder, more insistent.

"You’re wasting time. He’s not coming. He doesn’t care about you."

"Shut up," you hissed, your nails digging into your palms. "He does. He just... doesn’t realize it yet and besides he doesn't know where I am. Its impossible for him to find me." A slight chuckle escapes your lips.

You turned back to your table, your gaze falling on a small photograph tucked beneath a pile of notes. It was one of Viktor, taken without his knowledge. He looked so serious, so focused, his sharp eyes scanning a blueprint with unparalleled intensity.

You reached for the photo, your fingers brushing its edges. "Soon," you murmured. "Soon, you’ll see what we can achieve together."

The glow of the powders reflected in your eyes as your mind began to race. Plans, contingencies, possibilities—they all whirled together in a chaotic dance. Tonight, you would rest.

You stepped back, taking in the space you called your sanctuary. The alcove, carved from the forgotten underbelly of Zaun, was more than just a room—it was an extension of your mind.

The walls were jagged and rough, slick with dampness in some places, but alive with faint trails of glowing moss. Hanging from the low, uneven ceiling were a myriad of objects that you’d painstakingly arranged. Wires and strings stretched across the space, suspending glass shards, fractured vials, and metallic trinkets. They danced gently in the draft, casting fragmented light across the walls as the bioluminescent moss and glowing powders reflected off them. Among them dangled tiny gears, rusted keys, and shards of broken mirrors. Each piece was deliberately placed, forming a chaotic constellation above you, constantly shifting as if alive.

Lining the walls above the ground were uneven shelves you’d hammered together from scraps of wood and metal. They jutted out haphazardly, supported by bolts and brackets scavenged from the depths of Zaun. Each shelf held its own collection of treasures and tools.

One shelf was dedicated entirely to vials of powders. Amber, Crimson, Viridian, and others whose effects you hadn’t fully tested yet were arranged like trophies. Their soft, pulsating glow added an otherworldly ambiance to the room. Another shelf displayed your creations—small, twisted machines and inventions that didn’t always work but fascinated you nonetheless. Gears that spun for no reason, mechanical spiders with limbs too fragile to move, and a clock face with no hands all found their place there.

A third shelf, your favorite, held the items that meant the most to you. The rusted music box sat at the center, flanked by a collection of oddities: a brass monocle cracked down the middle, a scrap of velvet fabric embroidered with a strange symbol, and a pristine cog so finely crafted it could have belonged to Piltover itself. The top shelf housed books and loose papers, their spines frayed from overuse. The pages were filled with notes, sketches, and formulas, some coherent and some spiraling into madness.

Below the shelves, along the ground, were crates and boxes overflowing with tools, broken machinery, and scraps of metal. They spilled out onto the floor, creating a chaotic yet functional workspace. A large, cracked mirror leaned against one wall, catching the scattered light from above and reflecting your creations in warped, surreal angles.

Your mattress was nestled in the corner, layered with scavenged blankets and fabric scraps in a riot of mismatched colors. Above it, more strings hung, this time suspending tiny glass orbs and pieces of colored fabric that fluttered like banners in the faint drafts. When the vials glowed, the orbs and fabrics caught the light, painting your bed in shifting hues of red, green, and gold.

The ceiling dripped occasionally, each drop echoing softly in the otherwise quiet space. The hum of Zaun’s machinery provided a distant, mechanical lullaby. Everything here, from the suspended objects to the crowded shelves, told a story—a story only you understood.

You sat on the mattress, your eyes wandering over your room with a faint smile. The chaos of it mirrored your mind, a perfect symphony of disorder. This was your haven, where the outside world couldn’t reach. Here, among the dangling fragments and glowing powders, you felt at peace.

---