#silcos enforcer child series

[insane-arcane]

Jinx: [in a jail cell] What about my Miranda rights!? You’re supposed to say I have 'the right to remain silent'! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!

Silco’s enforcer child: [in the cell next to her] You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity.

Zmnxjsdndnssndsndndndndnndn

(Y/N): Jinx for the love of God let me do the talking

Jinx: Never

#arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane lol x reader #lol arcane x reader #lol x reader #father silco #platonic arcane #incorrect arcane quotes #sister jinx #silcos enforcer child series

[abitohoney]

A Shimmer in the Night

Chapter 1 of 5 - Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, Enforcer!Reader, Werewolf!Sevika, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Smut, Light Dom/sub, Dom!Sevika Sub!Reader, Begging, Praise Kink, Cunnilingus, Overstimulation, Strap-Ons, Rough Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare, Soft Sevika, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Choking, A/B/O Dynamics, Marking, Rutting, Heat, Werewolf Sex, Knotting, Breeding, Minor Character Death

Word Count: 6.6k

Summary: A series of mysterious, violent murders has taken both Piltover and the Undercity by storm. As a relatively new enforcer, you're bound and determined to solve this before any more innocent lives can be taken. Nothing prepares you, though, for the discovery you make when you take matters into your own hands. Nor are you prepared for the involvement of Silco's enigmatic right hand woman.

AN: This is already complete on AO3. Just bringing it to Tumblr now. Tags are for the entire fic, not necessarily the individual chapters.

You stand in the office of your superior, along with half a dozen other enforcers, listening as the Piltover sheriff provides a brief on the latest findings regarding a series of mysteries murders.

For several consecutive months now, there has been a seemingly random night in which dozens of citizens of both Piltover and the Undercity had fallen victim to these brutal, animalistic killings. It appeared the killer, or killers, worked indiscriminately, targeting man, woman, or child, rich or poor, several of your fellow enforcers included. The only commonality being how mangled the bodies were left. With sharp, claw-like tears in both clothing and skin, and canine, fang-like bite marks and gouges in the flesh. Traces of purple-tinged saliva found near the puncture sites.

"With body count up to several dozens and quickly rising, we need to act fast to locate and seize the culprit or culprits," Marcus explains, and you struggle to keep your mouth shut and let him finish, knowing you have useful information to share. "Considering the sheer amount of deaths, and the short time between several of the reported discoveries, I suspect we are dealing with multiple assailants," he continues, and you're visibly, anxiously shifting from foot to foot now. He takes notice, eyes flitting to your dancing feet, but he seems to ignore it as he blathers on. "We have yet to determine a pattern beyond what seems to be a once a month occurrence. Calendar date and day of the week have thus far been random-"

Marcus stops abruptly, turning to you with blatant annoyance across his face. "Is there something you'd like to share with us?" He bites out through clenched teeth.

"Sir, if I may," you start, taking several steps forward to the front of the desk, across from where he sits in his chair. The look he gives you says you may not, that he was being sarcastic, but you ignore out and press on. "I believe there is in fact a predictable pattern, a very obvious one actually," you pause, though only briefly when you catch his eye twitch at your last remark. Probably not the best choice of words to use with your superior, especially given you’ve only been an enforcer for less than a year now, but he really is only superior by rank, certainly not by intelligence. "Do you have a calendar?" You question, gaze dropping to his desk where you spot a small calendar facing him. Without waiting for his reply or permission, you reach across and grab it, setting it flat so both of you could view it as you quickly flip back through the pages. "Last attack happened here," you state, finger pointing first to the date, then slipping down to the lunar phase for that day, a full moon. "Prior to that…" you start, flipping back nearly thirty pages before poking at another full moon, "...here." Without removing your eyes from the calendar, you turn back yet another thirty, this time without speaking, simply pointing to the phase of the moon.

Finally lifting your gaze to take in the sheriff's expression, you find him staring down at the latest page, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed.

"I can keep going, sir," you add.

He rubs his temple between thumb and forefinger, and you're certain he's going to try to argue when he opens his mouth to speak. Not giving him a chance, you cut him off, "And tomorrow is the next full moon." Flipping all the pages back in one swipe to the current day, you pull back slightly, pressing your palms against the edge of the desk and allow him to reluctantly turn the page to the following day himself.

"And that's not all I've noticed," you continue, running entirely on adrenaline and ignoring how Marcus won't even lift his head to acknowledge you as you speak, clearly in denial of the knowledge you've obtained on your own accord. "The traces of purple saliva we've found on the victims has a muted luminescence very similar to that of the shimmer that floods the Undercity. I believe whoever, or whatever, is responsible has been under the effects of some variant of shimmer. We should start by investigating the possible sources of this shimmer, and set a curfew for tomorrow, before dusk."

Standing fully now, you anxiously wait for Marcus to speak, unknowingly tapping your foot in the otherwise quiet room. Unable to see your fellow enforcers standing behind you, it's still very apparent by their silence that they are in shock and likely just as anxious as you, though for entirely different reasons.

"So, let's pretend your moon theory holds water. You expect me to, in the span of less than a day, tell not just the entire population of Piltover, but also the Undercity, the people who despise us, that we are enforcing a curfew… on Progress Day? And then top it off by sticking our nose in the business, the main source of income, of the Undercity?" He asks, speaking in a slow, measured tone.

Shit. Tomorrow is Progress Day. You hadn't even thought about that, but it really doesn't matter. Something has to be done before more lives are lost.

"Yes," you reply simply.

His narrowed eyes meet yours and you already know what he's going to say. Fists balling at your sides, you fight the urge to cut him off again as he speaks.

"You're clearly not in your right mind. Probably overworked. Take tomorrow off." He says with finality, one that you ignore.

"Sir, we can't just sit and let this happen again," you start, throwing your hands in the air dramatically.

"We are not going to just sit and let anything happen. We have a plan-"

"A plan?!" You scoff, "You mean that bullshit of sending more enforcers out to slaughter?"

"That's enough!" Marcus hollers, slamming his fist down on the desk. "You are dismissed and relieved of this team!"

Mouth agape, you stare dumbfounded at the sheriff.

Did he really just kick you off this case?

"Fucking unbelievable!" You shout, spinning on your heel and storming towards the door, pushing your way between two of your stunned coworkers. Just as you're about to shut the door behind you, you hear Marcus fire one last shot in your direction.

"Make that a week. Without pay."

Worthless prick.

Lying in your bed that night, you glare up at the ceiling unable to sleep with the rage that's currently burning a hole in your chest. That stupid man was too blinded by his own damn pride to see the obvious. And that stupidity was going to cost more innocent lives tomorrow night. Well, not if you have anything to say about it. He may have relieved you of your duties for the next week and kicked you off the case, but you could do your own investigative work tomorrow. Maybe even convince some to stay indoors come sundown. The money doesn't even matter. You just want to put an end to the senseless killings.

Sighing heavily, you roll onto your side, closing your eyes as you try to formulate a plan. You'd heard the name of the supposed criminal kingpin running the shimmer business. Silco. He's an obvious start. All you can do is hope he'll be willing enough to hear you out. To share any information he may have regarding an errant form of shimmer. Mind racing, it doesn't take long for exhaustion to set in, and your thoughts drift and fade into nothing as sleep finally takes you.

The following morning you're up bright and early, uniform on despite being relieved of your duties for the next week. Your plan, to claim you'd been sent by Marcus to investigate the Undercity, will be much more convincing if you are dressed as an enforcer. Successfully sneaking past several of your colleagues unnoticed, you make your way to the lift that will take you to the lowest level of the Undercity, a place you'd only visited once before along with Marcus and several other new recruits. It isn't until the rickety cage reaches the very bottom of its run that the weight of what you're about to do hits you hard. Just as hard as the Undercity smog that invades your lungs the moment you step out. Reality rears its ugly head; you're about to traipse right up to the criminal kingpin Silco under false pretense and inquire about a rather deadly set of events. That is, assuming you can even convince him to grant you audience.

Thankfully your memory serves you well and you're able to locate The Last Drop rather easily. Seems most of the Undercity dwellers are still asleep, only encountering a few threatening looking characters in the shadows of adjacent alleyways. Either your uniform or your hand hovering over the pistol at your side is enough to keep them at bay. The large neon eye of Zaun over the entrance, even when not lit, stands out amongst the considerably smaller, more drab buildings along the outskirts of the lanes. It's rather intimidating, probably intentionally so, and you start to second guess your plan the moment you push one of the large doors open.

There are several shady looking citizens within, all of whose attention is immediately drawn to you as you step inside. Clearing your throat, you attempt to stand tall and hold an air of authority, despite feeling like the only prey in a room full of hungry predators.

"I'm here to speak with Silco on behalf of Marcus," you announce to no one in particular. Two of what you're now assuming to be Silco's goons exchange glances before looking to something at your right. Following their gaze you find two rather large and intimidating looking bald men standing with their arms crossed at the bottom of a set of stairs leading to a balcony. One of them nods towards the stairs, and you take that as an invitation to follow.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you offer a nod to the other man, who makes no move to allow you room to pass, forcing you to turn sideways to avoid contact as you slip by. Swallowing hard, you focus on your breathing to calm your nerves as you follow a few steps behind the first man.

"Wait here," he grunts as the two of you come before a large door near the end of the balcony. As instructed, you stand near the railing while he knocks. You hear a muffled drawl, "Come in," from the other side of the door and try to catch a glimpse as the man steps inside, but his large frame eats up almost the entirety of the doorway before he's inside and closing the door behind him. You try to listen in on the short conversation, but become distracted when you catch several of the goons below are still watching you intently. The realization that you may be in over your head hits you, but it's too late now.

The door swings open again, startling you and you spin to find the large man standing just outside, waiting for you to enter the room.

"Thank you," you somehow manage without your voice cracking. He, unsurprisingly, says nothing and you walk past and into what you immediately identify as an office given the large wooden desk situated at the back center of the room, just beneath an ornate green window set within an intricate iron design. The door clicks shut behind you and you're grateful that whoever sits in the tall-back chair behind the desk is turned toward the window because you visibly jump.

Something moves to your left, just within your periphery as you step further into the room. It's only when you turn towards it that you realize there is another person in the room, and you're awestruck by the sight. There, sitting with thick thighs spread on a dark red settee, is a beast of a woman. She's leaning back, one dark-skinned arm, including a bicep that looked as if it could tear through the leather shoulder and arm guard covering it, draped along the backrest. Her other arm is oddly covered by a dark red cloak that hangs only over her left side. A cigarillo rests in the corner of her mouth, dark lips curled around it in an unabashed smirk. Your eyes meet hers, stormy gray and full of mirth, apparently amused by how jumpy you are. She's just as intimidating, if not more so, than the two large men guarding the stairs. But she's also incredibly attractive-

"So the good sheriff sent you, a fresh faced enforcer, all the way down here by yourself to speak with me?"

The low measured tone of the man at the desk pulls you from your thoughts, your attention returning to the desk to find he's now turned to face you. And you are definitely alone in a room with two very scary individuals. Silco, you presume, though a stark difference in both size and skin tone compared to the woman, is terrifying all the same. He's lean, almost frail, with ghostly pale skin. What has you frozen and unknowingly holding your breath is his frightening left eye. It's a fiery orange set within a black abyss. Almost the entirety of the left side of his face is horribly scarred, but as you force yourself to look at his good eye, both out of fear and respect, you found that teal orb to be just as intimidating in that you're certain he can see into your soul with the way it burns through you.

“Uhm- yes, he did,” you reply, taking a few steps closer in an attempt to keep the heated gaze of the woman out of your periphery and from distracting you any further. “As you may already be aware, Marcus is leading an investigation into the mysterious murders that have been plaguing your city as well as our own. Something we recently observed was that many of the victims seem to have traces of what appears to be shimmer along the gashes and soaked into their clothing. As the main distributor of shimmer, we’re wondering if there is any information you may have to share that might aid in the investigation.”

Silco’s brow, the one not affected by whatever had scarred the other half of his face, raises ever-so slightly. “Are you- excuse me- is the good sheriff implying that I have something to do with this?” He questions, tone measured and his teal eye calculating.

You’re certain he’s merely attempting to intimidate you, but you remain unaffected. Or at least play it off that way, but it’s impossible to deny the amount of tension filling the room between all three current occupants, including the woman whose gaze is literally raising the hairs on the back of your neck.

“No sir, you misunderstand me. I’m certain you’d like to know who or what is killing your citizens just as much as we do. We’re simply wondering if perhaps you could give us the names of some of your secondary distributors or material suppliers that could possibly be misusing or marketing tainted shimmer. We’re working with very little information here, so anything that comes to mind could help us solve this and prevent further deaths.”

Regarding you for a moment, Silco seems almost bored, and suspiciously so given how dire the circumstances are for his people. This ought to concern him and drive him to seek assistance, even if it’s from topsiders.

“Nothing comes to mind, but I’ll be sure to contact Marcus should something arise. Please let him know that the Undercity appreciates his dedication to our well-being and safety,” he replies dryly and with finality as he picks up several papers from his desk.

“Silco, sir, please, there must be something you can share. A name. There’s a definitive pattern of these killings occurring on nights of a full moon and tonight will be another full moon. If we don’t act quickly-” Your plea for his cooperation is promptly ignored and sharply cut off by Silco’s low voice, which you note now carries a hint of irritation.

“Sevika, if you would be so kind as to show our guest out.” His gaze drops to the papers in his hand. End of discussion.

Tempted to press him further, your words falter the moment you hear the floorboards creak and catch sight of the woman, Sevika, rising to her feet. Not wishing to wait for his obvious right-hand to physically remove you from the premise, you release a frustrated breath and turn on your heels, marching out into the hallway.

Heavy footfalls follow not far behind you, and as you reach the stairs you lose your cool.

“You don’t need to walk me to the door. I’m well aware of where it is,” you snap without looking back. You hear the deep, snide chuckle behind you before Sevika replies.

“Boss’ orders.” Her voice is as deep as her laugh, and just as thick with arrogance.

Biting your tongue, you hold back the snarky remark that threatens to spill out. It won’t help the situation, and there’s no denying this woman could take you out with little to no effort if she felt compelled to.

The large goons at the bottom of the stairs step aside for the two of you to pass and you ignore the heated stares from the remainder of the bar’s occupants, heading straight for the large set of doors that lead to the streets. Sevika is still trailing not far behind you, and it only proves to further test your patience. With the door in arms reach, you just need to get out and cool off. You wrap your fingers around the large handle and pull the door open only to find it forced shut as a much larger hand lands just above your own. Clenching your teeth, you ignore the way the large bicep at the side of your head flexes as Sevika invades your space, and focus instead on formulating something to say that won't end with you unconscious on the floor of this filthy bar. Whatever remark you have ready dies behind your parted lips when you feel something heavy and sharp on your shoulder, just under the arm currently preventing you from leaving.

Your eyes drop to the offending object to find a series of sharp, deadly looking silver-tipped nails attached to intricate brass hinged fingers. Each one curls and digs into your shoulder, piercing your uniform just enough for you to sense the cold metal points against your otherwise fury-heated flesh. You're forced to turn to face Sevika by those claws and your eyes follow them in a mixture of awe, wonder and fear as they drop to her left side and disappear beneath the dark red cloak.

"Listen here, sweetheart,” she sneers, and you’re not sure you appreciate the tone she’s taking with you, nor the seemingly condescending pet name. You raise your eyes to meet her steely gaze, and it takes you tilting your head back enough to crane your neck given how impossibly tall she is. “You and I both know Marcus wouldn’t send a rookie to question Silco."

Setting your jaw straight you attempt to hold your head high and remain cool as she towers over you in a clear attempt to prove dominance and induce fear.

“You don’t know that and frankly it doesn’t matter given the situation we’re in,” you grit out, fists clenching at your sides. Her eyes drop momentarily, apparently taking notice of that before raising again to meet your gaze. The nasty grin that tugs at her dark lips pulls higher and she takes a small step closer until your chests nearly touch, caging you in further between her massive body and the door behind you. You realize that she must have ditched her cigarillo at some point and something catches your attention in your periphery. Letting your eyes flit to her left cheek for a moment, you’re surprised to find a series of scars scattered like blue lightning, running from just beneath her eye, clear down her thick neck and under the soft leather choker that’s wrapped around it. Her gruff voice draws your attention back to her stormy eyes.

"I suggest you keep your nose out of the situation , unless you're looking to get hurt." With her proximity you can feel her warm breath fan across your face, filling the air around you with the smell of cigars and whiskey.

"Is that a threat?" you ask, indignation written plain as day on your face and you begin to question that initial physical attraction that hit you when you’d first laid eyes on her in Silco’s office. This brute and her boss are clearly in cahoots with whatever, or whoever, is behind these murders. Either that or they themselves are directly responsible, and given that terrifying looking claw of a left hand she had, the latter seems most plausible.

"No, sweetheart,” she replies, her voice dropping impossibly lower and you swear you catch a flash of purple behind those gray eyes before she lowers her head. “That's a promise," she rasps a mere hairsbreadth from your ear. The tiny hairs at the back of your neck rise again and a shiver runs mercilessly down your spine. Something about the way she spoke those words felt like more than the threat you want to believe is all she intended. And as she stands back to her full height, you find yourself ensnared by the way her thick lips curl into a wide, feral grin, revealing two white rows of teeth that you’re certain each include a pair of excessively sharp canines.

That's… different .

It isn’t until she steps away, the heat that had been radiating from her body disappearing along with her, that you are suddenly aware of just how excruciatingly hot your body had become. The cool air of the bar rushes over the small amount of exposed skin from around your uniform, sending yet another, much more visible chill, through your body.

Sevika’s dark, short chuckle rumbles from her chest and fills the otherwise silent room, bouncing off the walls and singing in your blood-pulsing ears. To say you're pissed is an understatement. It isn’t until you hear another snicker, one that certainly isn’t hers given how distinct hers is, that you recall the two of you are not alone. Clearing your throat, you attempt to straighten yourself up, because apparently at some point your body had gone limp and you were held up only by your back slumped against the door. Unable to clear your head enough to form any sort of retort or even a farewell, you silently turn, open the door and slip out into the smog-filled streets as quickly, albeit pridefully, as possible.

For the entirety of your return topside, you try to convince yourself that the only thing grating your nerves is anger, frustration and maybe a bit of fear, nothing else. That initial… allure or whatever it was you felt when you looked at that woman, is gone. She's bad news.

You spend the next several hours at a desk in your small bedroom pouring over the past several months of reports, of which you admittedly obtained copies illegally a few nights back when Marcus refused to let you review them on your own. It seems glaringly obvious that shimmer is somehow involved. Nearly every report, out of some hundreds of them, indicate the presence of the neon purple substance on or around the victim. And after the morning’s questioning with Silco and his- enigmatic second in command, your suspicions only grew. The two of them screamed shady business, and of course Silco was already widely known for such, but whatever this was didn’t seem business related, at least not something an industrialist should be interested in.

Reading a particularly detailed report on one of the latest victims, you come across the descriptions of the gashes found on various parts of the body. They were reported to be animal-like, as if the flesh was ripped by large claws. And chunks missing, torn by large, sharp canines. Your mind flashes back to your encounter with Sevika, that brief moment where you swore her eyes glowed purple, the flash of sharp, oddly long canines, those metal claws she hid beneath her cloak and to top it all off, the obvious threat she gave you. It all absolutely reeked of foul play.

Not one to admit defeat so easily, you opt to take a trip to the Undercity again later to question some of the locals. With a new lead, you focus your interrogations on Silco, or more specifically Sevika. Does she frequently mingle with other individuals? Based on the sheer amount of killings, she can’t possibly be doing this alone. Has she ever just up and disappeared the night of a full moon? What about any of Silco’s other subordinates? Do any of them have animalistic augmentations or body modifications?

Needless to say, you’re no luckier than you were talking directly to Silco. It would seem that either the Undercity inhabitants are just naturally uncooperative, or probably more-so they have an extreme dislike for topsiders, enforcers in particular. This also, unfortunately, makes them less perceptive to your suggestions that they all stay in that night. Your explanation that the killings coincide with a full moon either fall on deaf ears or earn you condescending laughter and snide remarks.

Just hours before dusk you’re back to your desk, slumped over in your chair. Out of leads and out of time.

Fit with your enforcer issued pistol and a rifle you’ve only ever used for target practice, you stuff your camera into a small pack attached to the belt at your waist. Unsuccessful in obtaining enough information to put a complete stop to the murders, you’ve opted to do the next best thing. Arm yourself to take out the culprit, or culprits, and maybe save a few lives. Or at the very least capture some pictures that could aid in solving the mystery before another attack a month from now. Ditching your enforcer uniform to a) avoid being caught in it while off duty and b) don something more practical than the standard issue dress, you opt for simple fitted jeans, ribbed tank top, black jacket and some sturdy ankle high boots.

Glancing out your window situated over the desk in your bedroom you can already see the full moon starting to poke out from behind the clouds in the nearly dark sky. You need to move fast. The area you plan to scope out, a heavily forested area with a winding walking path, is a far trek from your home. That particular area seemed to have the highest frequency of incidences in Piltover, so you’re hopeful that you’ll find something there.

Heading out, you’re disappointed, but not surprised considering it’s Progress Day, to find there are still a large sum of people wandering all throughout Piltover. Many of them are drunk, which you’re certain will make them easy targets, especially when they do finally decide to head home late in the night, likely alone and unarmed. Even many of your fellow enforcers are out enjoying themselves rather than holding posts and staying vigilant.

It makes your stomach churn and your vision blur with red at the thought of how Marcus simply chose to take no action, just like Silco. That odd little similarity hits you and you pause just outside the edge of the entrance to the forest.

Is that just a coincidence?

You’re pulled from your thoughts when the single lamp along the walking path that winds in and out of the woods begins to flicker. Gaze drawn upward to the flashing yellow, you catch sight of the full moon as it disappears behind the clouds just as the bulb in the lamp finally dies out, leaving you in complete darkness.

Not wanting to give away your presence by pulling out a flashlight, you push forward nearly blind, stepping between the tall evergreen trees and further into the darkness. The cloud above passes quickly, providing you with just the faintest glow from where the moonlight sneaks through the tiny gaps between the tree tops. Treading slowly, carefully, you attempt to move as quietly as possible. Once you reach the edge of a small clearing where you can see the edge of the walking path poking through, you find a relatively flat spot behind a large trunk and drop to kneel on one knee. With your rifle resting on your back, strap over your shoulder, your hand rests over the pistol on the opposite side of your pouch. All that’s left to do is sit and wait.

You’re not sure how long you’re waiting there, but it’s definitely long enough for your nerves to settle and for the sweet siren’s call of sleep to reach your mind and body. Eyes and body heavy, you shift to sit on your haunches, leaning your shoulder against the massive trunk. It’s eerily quiet tonight. No animal seems to be awake, not even the insects. The only sounds your ears can pick up on are the occasional rustle of leaves when a gentle breeze passes through or your own breathing when it’s otherwise calm.

Another cloud passes overhead, evident by how that tiny bit of moonlight you’re relying on suddenly disappears. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear something heavy was taped to your eyelids with how difficult it became to keep them open. Maybe you needed to move to a different spot, another one along the path. Your lids droop and you catch a glimpse of moonlight. Willing your eyes open again, you try to consider your options. Your vision goes black again as you start to nod off. When your head starts to slip along the rough bark of the tree, your eyes shoot back open again. The clearing is fairly well illuminated again, clouds apparently passed. Just as your eyes are about to fall shut yet again, your ears pick up on something.

A rush of adrenaline has you wide awake as you hear the sound of crunching leaves and twigs just past the clearing. Somebody, or something, is moving just out of sight. Careful not to make a sound yourself, you push back up onto both knees, then raise one to place your foot on the ground in the event you need to run. It could just be an animal. Or it could just be someone taking a late night walk. But your hand hovers over your pistol regardless.

Something starts to step into the clearing, into the moonlight, and your heartrate kicks up a notch. Whatever it is, it’s large enough to be human, but definitely on all fours like an animal. Holding your breath you watch wide eyed as it steps fully into view. It’s covered completely by dark, matted fur, with a large snout. It’s reminiscent of a wolf, but far too large and the rear legs are oddly similar to that of a biped.

The hand at your side trembles and a lump forms in your throat. You’re certain this had to be one of the things that has been terrorizing both Piltover and the Undercity. A breeze sweeps in from behind you and towards the beast. It raises its snout, sniffing at the air and you realize too late that it’s just picked up on your scent. You’re frozen with fear when Its head slowly turns in your direction and its glowing, purple eyes meet your own. Large rows of teeth, including two pairs of deadly sharp canines, glisten in the moonlight as its face contorts into a snarl.

Shit.

Pulling your pistol from its sheath, you take aim just as the beast lurches toward you. You pull the trigger and at a mere twenty or so feet from your target you manage to hit its front right shoulder. The howl of pain that rips from its throat is unlike any animal you’ve ever heard, and to your terror the beast is quick to return to pursuing you.

Fuck.

Firing again, you manage to hit the other shoulder and this time you spring to your feet, ready to flee. Another yelp echoes through the forest, but it still moves forward, quickly closing the distance.

A third shot behind your back as you begin running with limited vision through the dark forest. Eyes focused on the ground before you, you don’t watch for the hit, but you hear another howl and know it at least landed, but the heavy patter of large paws crushing the foliage behind you indicates it still wasn’t enough to take it out.

Heart hammering in your chest, you fire several more rounds blindly behind your back, apparently missing as there are no more cries of pain, just a series of terrifying snarls and growls that are gaining fast.

With your mind racing in panic, you lose track of how many bullets you fire, and to your absolute dread you find the gun now empty. Stomach churning you attempt to pull your rifle off your back. It’s not suitable for close quarters like this, but you are literally out of options. Before you can manage to get the damn safety off it you lose your footing, tripping on a large tree root that you couldn’t see.

A startled yelp tears from your open mouth as you find yourself falling face first to the ground. The side of your head hits something hard and unforgiving and for a fraction of a second you see white behind your lids. Attempting to scramble to your feet, pure adrenaline is the only thing powering you as your lungs burn and your head spins. Then something slices across your back, shearing right through your jacket and top, tearing flesh like it's made of nothing more than wet tissue paper.

The shriek of pain that rips from your throat echoes through your ringing ears. Collapsing to the ground again, your hands reach blindly for the rifle you’d dropped during your fall. Tears fill your eyes and the dark objects that surround you spin and careen, making your stomach lurch.

Somehow, miraculously, you manage to find your gun. Grabbing it by the barrel with one hand, you roll onto your opposite side, swinging as hard as you can towards the beast now crawling over your feet. The butt of it lands hard against the jaw of the snarling animal from where it towers over your legs. Saliva and blood fly from its mouth, but it quickly recovers. Watching in complete shock, your heart plummets to your stomach as it rises, crouching on hind legs that are certainly not like any animal, nor human, you've ever seen. Pushing yourself up into a sitting position, you struggle to right your rifle. The beast raises a front paw that looks far more like a hand, only with razor sharp claws, and swings faster than your dizzy mind can process, but you feel and hear the gun leave your hands and scatter some distance to your side. Frozen in terror and without any other defense, all you can do is close your eyes when that giant paw pulls back for another swipe, and await what you hope will be a deadly blow so as to end this quickly.

A sudden growl followed by a pained, animalistic yelp hits your ears and your eyes fly open just in time to see a second, larger beast just inches from your feet. Its attention, thankfully, is not on you, rather it appears to be snarling at the first which is now several feet away and limping in a defensive arch around you and its attacker. Leaning back on your palms, you attempt to scoot further away from what is certain to be a brutal fight between these two creatures. Vision blurring and body aching, you're only able to get far enough to lean your left shoulder against the base of a tree, careful to avoid the gaping gashes that spread clear from your right shoulder down to just above the left side of your waist. A sudden sharp throb at the side of your head has you touching it gingerly. It's wet, with blood no doubt, right where you'd hit it when you fell. You're most likely concussed, yet another mark against you on this cursed night.

As the second beast circles around the first, you catch a glimpse of something odd in the small beam of moonlight that filters through the treetops. The front left leg, or as you're starting to consider it- arm- is neither human nor animal. Not flesh or organic by any means. It's… metal . Clear from the hand-like fingers to the shoulder, it's entirely metal, reflecting in the light of the moon.

What the hell have you uncovered?

Unable to tear your eyes away, you watch in awe and horror as this larger beast lunges at the first. Between your fading consciousness and their gruesome fight moving further into the shadows of the trees, you're unable to make out which one is winning. Not that it matters. You're dead either way. But you can certainly hear that one is fairing far better than the other. Though both are clearly the same type of creature, you can pick up on obvious differences in their snarls, growls and whines. It all seems to happen so fast, but your fear leaves you unable to grasp time. Not long after the battle disappears further into the trees and completely out of your sight, you hear a final animalistic cry of pain and then everything goes eerily silent. It isn't until that moment that you realize your breathing has become dangerously shallow. You're barely holding onto consciousness, and as you watch only one beast emerge, it starts slipping faster.

Head falling limp against the side of the tree you're barely leaning against, your glazed over eyes struggle to track the slow, stalking movements of the victor. Moonlight streams first across its left hand, which reflects back. It's the second beast. It steps closer still, revealing bared teeth dripping with saliva and blood. Body so completely numb, you can't even feel fear anymore and your eyelids become unbearably heavy.

You blink.

It's at your feet, sharp canines ready to bite.

You blink again.

It's over your legs, its deep growl reverberating through your entire body.

One final blink.

All your clouded vision can make out is the terrifying glow of two purple eyes mere inches from your face, but you feel the wet, warm sensation spill down the front of your neck and beneath your shirt as that mixture of blood and saliva drips from the beast's mouth. Just before your lids drop, you swear you catch those eyes turning gray for just a second as the moonlight disappears behind the clouds.

Unable to open your eyes, your ears ring with the pained howl that erupts from the creature and somehow dissolves into a human's- a woman's- deep pained groan that grows quieter and quieter, until everything fades to black.

next chapter >

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader #fanfic #honey writes

[local-lamppost]

Jinx’s Parenting

Before I begin: I am the youngest of three, but due to my oldest sibling being rather immature my other sibling and I had to shift up the line in terms of stereo typical “oldest child, middle child, youngest child”. So I am writing this from the perspective of someone who is the youngest, but more often than not treated like the middle child. Just wanted to put things in perspective when it comes to my view on siblings. Alright? Alright.

From the beginning we know that Jinx, or Powder as she still was, could not have been raised in any worse an environment. Her childhood home was in the lowest slumps, a place where the dregs topsiders don’t want to think about go. Little is known about this time in her life. We can infer that her mother was caring, as a hallucinating Vi mistook Caitlyn for her mother in a scene where she received possibly her first gentle touch in years. As for her father, we don’t know anything.

Next there’s Vander, whose parenting of Powder we also know very little about. Vander spent most of his parenting time on Vi. Not because Vi was a problem child, at least no more than any of the others, but because she was the oldest and thus able to look after the others during the majority of the time when Vander couldn’t. Not that Vander neglected Powder, the two seem to have a little ritual that cheers Powder up and Vander quickly knows something is wrong when the ritual doesn’t work.

Vander’s parenting of Powder is best seen through Vi’s parenting of Powder. Now, right off the back, there is a problem. Vi shouldn’t have to be a mother to Powder, but with Vander running the Lanes there’s little choice in the matter. Vi is far from a perfect mentor or leader. In fact, I’m of the mind that Vi is an un-natural leader. Sure, Vi has a charisma to her, but she would rather do everything herself than involve others. This isn’t leader behavior, it’s the attitude of someone with a guilt complex a mile wide. Vander’s failure of parenting is seen in Vi’s unhealthy selflessness. There is rarely a moment in the show where Vi acts selfishly. Even her ignoring Caitlyn’s issues are all for the sake of making sure Powder is safe. She has no personal desires that she pursues to better herself, only to save Powder (and maybe get revenge on Silco for everything, but I think if keeping Powder safe meant leaving Silco alone Vi would gladly ignore him). 

And it’s Vi’s most selfish act of the series which cements this connotation of “personal care=bad things for people I love” in Vi’s mind. After watching her brothers and father die, after being badly injured, and already blaming herself for leading Mylo and Claggor into a rather-in retrospect-obvious trap; Vi is confronted with the fact that it was all Powder’s fault. Vi lashes out, hitting and cursing(jinxing) Powder for disobeying her order to stay home. When Vi sees the literal blood on her hands, Powder’s blood, she realizes she needs a moment and steps away. I think we can all agree by now that Vi was definitely not abandoning Powder. Vi needed time to herself, to process the absolute avalanche of trauma just dumped on her, but in doing so Silco got Powder. All because Vi had to take care of herself for a moment.

Back to Vi’s parenting of Powder. Vi was unfortunately the best at raising her sister. Unfortunate not because Vi wasn’t up to the task, but- again- Vi herself is a child. Vi is always encouraging of Powder, she thinks her sister is the smartest person in all of Piltover and Zaun and is more than willing to knock any heads that would deny the fact: even Powder’s. Every time Vi pushes Powder, it’s because she knows her sister can make the jump. The only time Vi benches Powder is when they are going after someone who’s capable of capturing Vander and killing Benzo along with a handful of enforcers. 

Later, when Vi meets Jinx, she is more than willing to overlook anything her sister had to do to survive. “It doesn’t matter”, they are together. It’s only when Vi sees the violence Powder-Jinx-is now capable of that she begins to hesitate. Jinx easily murdered firelights and when pushed she tried to shoot Vi herself. When Vi leaves with Caitlyn on the bridge, I don’t think it was just her wanting to save Cait, but that she was afraid to face Jinx, to accept that Powder has been replaced by this apparent monster of Silco’s design. Even at the tea party, Vi was still willing to accept Powder/Jinx for everything that she was. Vi’s selflessness would likely put up with any abuse if it meant she could stay with her sister, to make up for ‘abandoning’ her. It’s only when Caitlyn’s life is threatened, someone Vi has grown to love and appreciate, that Vi can no longer meet Jinx’s demands

Finally, lets talk about Silco.

Silco is not a good father. He is, scientifically speaking, the worst father. No one can deny Silco’s love was unconditional, but this is his greatest failure. Enabling and encouraging Jinx’s behavior is not healthy for either of them. Not only that, but Silco actively manipulates Jinx into a codependent relationship. Feeding into her paranoia until the only one Jinx believes she can love and trust is him. Silco’s encouragement of Jinx’s “inner monster” was basically him denying her the right to be Powder. And if only SIlco is able to love that monster, how could Vi’s love ever compare to his? Silco would kill for her, more than that: Silco would damn the nation of Zaun for Jinx. His own trauma makes him blind to the damage he is inflicting on Jinx, Silco’s mindset has kept Jinx stuck in her childishly violent nature. If the time had come where Jinx could act independently of Silco, leave the nest he had built for her, I think Silco would simply find a new tie to connect Jinx to him. 

I want to quickly revisit Vander, because it’s Silco’s and Vi’s experiances with him that determined how they approached Powder/Jinx. Vander held Vi accountable, so Vi was willing to accept Jinx until Jinx refused to take accountability. Silco desired respect and loyalty, so he crafted Jinx to be ever loving and loyal to him. Vander betrayed Silco, permanently scarred him. Nothing Jinx can do could change his opinion of her. It’s only the thought of Jinx loving someone else, of being loyal to another(something which could lead to another betrayal) that Silco moves to reinforce the Jinx’s need for him and his guidence.

Silco telling Jinx she's perfect, I think was his way of being kind if for a selfish reason. He wants her to remember him with as much love and fondness as possible, so Jinx will never even think of offering that same love to Vi, the reason she shot her father.

#arcane #vi #vander #silco #jinx #powder #league of legends #lol #caitlyn #caitvi #tl:dr tobias kirramen is best dad #please give me vi and tobias bonding #vi deserves to be told not everything is her fault #echo and cait will have a third member in their reassure vi club #someone get jinx help while your at it #jinx's therapist will be a rich man

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

strange breed

by dokomiteru

Now, Vi could see that she and Caitlyn were bound to fall in love, despite all the baggage of Vi's life in the Undercity and in prison, and all the baggage Caitlyn carried for being the only child of one of Piltover's greatest families and an Enforcer. She could also see that they too were destined to suffer for each other, and yet, the feeling between them does not fade. What can Vi say? They are a strange breed.

Words: 2507, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of the suffering that comes with desire

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Vi (League of Legends), Caitlyn (League of Legends), Mentioned Jinx, Mentioned Silco - Character, Mentioned Ekko, Mentioned Jayce Talis

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Oh god the YEARNING GUYS, Jinx is mentioned a lot because in my head arcane is all about vi and jinx's sisterly bond, this fic takes place in between scenes of the S1xEP8 Oil and Water, it's after vi and cait's break up scene

from AO3 works tagged 'Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)'

#ao3feed-piltovers-finest #a03feed-piltovers-finest #caitvi #arcane (league of legends) fanfiction

[battlekidx2]

Arcane - The Sins of the Father

Arcane does a really good job of assessing nature vs nurture when it comes to what shapes a person and what they become. Vi and Jinx are the primary examples of this. They are both caring people by nature but the world around them and their adoptive father figures are key parts in solidifying that characteristic or deteriorating it. 

For Vi the world has beaten her down time and time again like many characters in the series but Vander was a key part in making sure she didn’t succumb to her hatred and anger. At the start of the series Vi wants to fight. She wants to teach the enforcers a lesson and hurt them like they hurt the people of the undercity. But Vander reminds her that her decisions effect those around her. “You have a good heart. Don’t lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you”. When push comes to shove Vi is willing to give herself up to protect her sister and friends and prevent conflict with those in Piltover. She chooses peace over violence despite violence being all she knows. I think it is here that Vi becomes a protector rather than an avenger. She was toeing the line between the two before this moment.

Vander learned from his mistakes and passed those lessons onto Vi. His final appearance convincing Vi to get up really solidifies this and Vi’s role as a protector. His lessons have continued on long after he is gone. “ I wish I could say it gets easier, kiddo. But I'd be lying. What I can say is... She still needs you. They all do. So what do you say?” 

For Jinx the line that defined her was said by her sister rather than any father figure “Because you’re a jinx... Mylo was right”. Powder’s evolution into Jinx is brought on by her hearing her sister finally agreeing with the others and looking at her as a weakness (from her perspective. We know that Vi’s outburst came from a place of pain from learning that her sister caused the explosion that killed Mylo and Clagger and led to the death of Vander rather than a place of genuine hatred or contempt). This is further solidified by Silco using his misplaced guidance to make her believe that this moment made her stronger rather than actually addressing the issue and dealing with the trauma. He believed that killing the person who was hurt by the one closest to them was the solution rather than healing. Jinx became a vessel for destruction because that’s the only way she was taught to deal.

Silco and Vander genuinely loved their daughters and did the best they could with what they had. The sad reality is that Vander learned from his mistakes and Silco didn’t. Silco didn’t have the same kind of support that Vander made for himself which gave him the ability to clearly see that violence hadn’t gotten them anything but loss. Silco was forced to drag himself through his pain which lead to his misplaced beliefs and unintentional projection onto Jinx. This story is a tragedy of circumstance and trauma. The sins of the father and their lessons learned really can pass onto the child and effect who they become moving forward.

#arcane #arcane netflix #vi #jinx #vander #silco #please watch this show #arcane vi #arcane jinx #vi and vander #jinx and silco #powder #Silco is a great character #but a bad father

[divinegrey]

DON'T LET ME GO / jinx x f!reader

THE VANISHER SERIES, part 6

masterlist here

now that we've resolved the bullshit surrounding people trying to steal my work and pass it off as their own, back to regular vanisher posting <3

prompt: a powder blue flare in the sky leads to a reunion and a fight. the aftermath leaves you baring your soul to jinx and showing her the broken and damaged pieces of yourself left behind in the wake of your mentor.

words: 3887 (they're getting longer every time damn it)

warnings: extreme violence, mentions of emotional, mental, and physical abuse, cursing, blood, gore.

It’s easier to find Vi than you expected. A few whispers here, some favors there, and you’re on the tail of Vi and the enforcer she brought along with her. There’s a method to your madness as you traverse the Undercity, heading to the deepest pits of the lanes. They’ve chosen a dilapidated house to hide in.

You’ve only just managed to arrive when you spot Silco at the bottom, handing vials of precious purple shimmer to the poor individuals rotting away at the bottom, deformed from the drug. It makes your blood boil, but you hang back. You promised Jinx information, not coming back already more beat up than you are.

A pink-haired woman walks out of the shack. Vi, it must be. You remember hearing about pink hair from Jericho the fishmonger. Behind her, in the doorway, the enforcer woman, trying to shove her arm into a support post. The only thing holding up the neon sign. Vi spins and snaps the metal with her own fist, and you watch in awe as the lights flicker, the ground rumbles, and the sign begins falling.

Good. Now you can move.

You slide down the dirt, using a knife from your thigh to slow your descent. You move through the dust, leaving nary a trace behind.

“ARGH!” Silco is throwing a fit, slamming and kicking everything around him. Quietly, you slink into the optimal spot. The taste of revenge is in your throat, and though you said you weren’t going to interfere earlier, Silco just looks like he’s begging to have a fist in his mouth. Preferably your own.

The sound of a metronome haunts you. No, not haunting. Encouraging.

“Look who’s throwing the tantrum now, Silco,” You say. His head snaps up; he can’t tell which direction you’re coming from, prompting him to spin around wildly. “You look like a chicken with its head cut off. Your empire is crumbling. I, for one, cannot wait to see it go.”

“I never should’ve let you do my dirty work, Vanisher,” Silco says. “You’re a rat like everyone else.”

“Insults, insults, insults,” you reply. You step out from behind the boulder, walking towards him. “Acting like a child. Do you want another toy to break or should I put you in time out?”

“I let you go on for far too long. I believed that you, of all people, could understand the importance of business,” Silco says, his hair mussed up beyond belief and a fine layer of dust coating the black jacket, turning it ashen grey. With disappointment you clearly call bullshit on, he continues, “It seems you’ve fallen to greed as well.”

“If falling to greed means having Jinx, then…” You arch your wrist back, the black blade sliding free. “I’ll keep falling.”

“You kill me here, she hates you for the rest of your life,” Silco says, extending his arms to his side as if to show he bears no weapons. “You cannot have her without having me.”

“You’re getting it wrong, Silco,” you say, taking one, two, three steps toward him. “She’s never existed without someone having her. Vi, Vander, then you. It’s not my turn to have her, no, it’s her turn to have me. And it’s my turn to remind you that you’re a selfish prick who uses people for your own gain. You’re alone, Silco, you always have been and you always will be, no matter how many people you surround yourself with.”

Silco exhales, his red eye twitching. “Does loyalty mean nothing to you?”

Only to the one woman who matters most to me right now. You shake your head. “Loyalty has always let me down.”

You make one short stride to him. As you expected, he attacks first with his fist. You push it aside, running your blade over the fabric of his sleeve just deep enough to cut the coat. It barely grazes over his skin. Your heart yearns for revenge, calls for you to beat him until he’s bleeding, but you restraint yourself.

You don’t torture people. You vanish them.

It would be so easy to do it right now. People would come looking for him. You would be the number one target of his disappearance. It would be worth it— you’d disappear to Noxus or Demacia, somewhere to hide and wait for Silco’s reign of tyranny to die down before coming back.

But all of that would mean leaving Jinx.

You retract the blade, throwing yourself between Silco’s legs with your hand gripping his arm. As you stand, you yank him into a brutal flip that lands him on his back. In one clean movement, you slam your fist into Silco’s solar plexus. His body seizes up; he gasps for breath, unable to do anything.

You kneel down, grabbing his coat and yanking him upward so he looks at you. Your voice is thick, deep, and heavy through the voice modulator. “Your reign of terror will end soon, Silco. Not a matter of if, but when.”

With that, you push him onto the ground and walk away. You lose yourself in the shadows, and in the darkness, the eyes of your mentor scrutinize you.

Not yet, you remind yourself. Silco will die. But not yet.

You climb back onto the main streets of Zaun, a weariness in your chest from your ribs and a bruise on your stomach making itself painfully known. However, your attention is drawn elsewhere.

To the sky, where you spot a bright powder-blue flare that soon goes out.

You know intrinsically that it’s Jinx. You’re running before you even realize it. You’re slowed by your injuries, but you force yourself past the pain, using it as fuel to cross the Lanes at breakneck speed. You traverse the rooftops, plotting your course across Zaun. You need to reach the flare. There’s no way that wasn’t Jinx— you’d seen the flare before in her silo hideout, laying on the coffee table.

You never asked what it was for. Now, you have an idea.

You climb the tower, ascending the steps three at a time until you reach the top. Sounds of fighting kick you into high gear. If Jinx is in danger, you don’t know what you would do with yourself.

It’s the Firelights. You know them intimately— like how you do jobs for Silco, you do jobs for them. Playing both sides is a game done precariously, but Silco has never realized the one or two missing henchmen were ever because of you. You know better than to use the same tactics on him.

At the top of the stairwell, you see Jinx aiming her machine gun at a raven-masked Firelight, with another one coming up right behind her on his hoverboard. You jump onto the railing and leap into the air, colliding with the Firelight right as Jinx draws her pistol to aim behind her.

You go tumbling to the ground, grabbing the hoverboard and smacking him upside the head. He falls off the side of the building and you turn to Jinx.

“Glad I haven’t missed all the fun,” you tell her, but the smile on her face is short-lived when another Firelight swoops down from above. In the nick of time, she bends her back, the board barely skimming her nose. She twists and throws a grenade onto the back of the board, pulling the pin with her finger.

“Good to see you Toots!” Jinx says, swinging her machine gun to her front. “Now help me out here, would ya?”

“With pleasure, you reply. Jinx spins, pulling the trigger to let off a tirade of bullets. Knowing that she has that covered, you turn to a Firelight bouncing on his feet in front of you.

He swings high— you weave to the side, dodging the swing of his cleaver. You move with him instead of against him, taking advantage of his momentum to knock him off-kilter. It’s a move that proves to work every single time you use it. You roll to the side, then charge at him. He grabs your arm, and you wrench it around his throat, flipping around him before sweeping the ground with your leg. He lands onto his back with a thud.

Out of the corner of your eye, Vi looks at you, eyes wide. Your rib lets out a protest.

Before the fox-masked Firelight on the ground has a chance to recover, you jam the heel of your palm into his temple. He hits the ground out cold.

You turn your head to see Jinx staring off in the distance, then moving her body an inch to the side to narrowly avoid being sliced in half. Her fighting sense is keenly aware, on the same level as yours. You thrust your elbow back into a Firelight, then bring them over your shoulder onto the ground.

You don’t kill them. You leave them unconscious. You are the Vanisher, but you are not on a job. No contract binds you to spill their blood. The Firelights are one of few groups in the Undercity whose goals you agree with.

Their leader won’t look kindly on you for hurting his brethren right now, but you couldn’t care any less. You belong to Jinx. At this moment, your body and your mind move to protect her, even if she doesn’t realize it.

“Powder!” Vi shouts, and you want to scream don’t call her that, but the thought passes out of your mind just as quickly as it went in when the Firelight behind Vi strikes her in the back of her head with the end of his weapon.

“Augh!” Jinx shouts. Anger boils in your blood at the sight of blood leaking from Jinx’s inner thigh. Your vision turns red, and you slide onto the ground next to the Firelight that had dared to hurt Jinx.

Your wrist arches back.

Click, click, click.

Metronome sounds in the back of your mind.

The tip of the hidden blade touches his throat before you remember what are you doing?

You press your other hand into his neck, squeezing the windpipe until he stops squirming in your lap. He drops to the stone and you stand up, retracting the blade. No blood. No death. No contract.

You look at Jinx. Jinx looks at you. No words have to be said between you to know that she’s thankful.

“Move out!” the leader shouts. Jinx turns at the same time you do, eyes falling onto an unconscious Vi held in the arms of a firelight that hops off the platform. You make a move after her without even thinking about it, but are stopped plain in your tracks by a bomb that emits thick black smoke. If you weren’t wearing your mask, you would’ve coughed.

When the smoke clears, it’s only you and Jinx. Every Firelight you had put out has disappeared. Silence fills the air. Slowly, you turn to the blue-haired woman.

Her eyes start to fill with tears, a broken “Vi?” coming out of her mouth as the realization of Vi being gone again settles over her. The jittery movements of her eyes back and forth on the stone floor beneath the two of you start, and you don’t even know how to describe the pain that crushes your heart when she lets out a scream that echoes on the walls.

Before she collapses to the ground in broken cries, you catch her. You pick her up into your arms, and you begin moving to your hideout. Yours is closer than hers. You refuse to let any tears come out of your eyes, but the challenge becomes harder and harder the longer she sobs into your poncho, holding onto you for dear life.

You take the shadowy streets. Before you turn onto any street, you check for passersby. Nobody needs to see you and Jinx like this.

It takes some time, but eventually, you reach your hideout in the walls of Zaun. You place Jinx onto the table, moving her machine gun and her pistol Pow-Pow to the side. You take off your mask, poncho, and gloves, leaving you in your pants, shoes, and dark purple undershirt that hugs your torso.

Her wound needs stitching. You think, with some morbidness, that this is repayment for every time she’s had to piece you back together.

“Darling, I’m going to need you to take off your pants, I need to get a cleaner look at your cut,” you say softly, already unlacing her boots and tossing them to the side. You’re kneeled in between her legs— in any other situation, you’d be delighted to be here, but right now, your heart hurts for her.

Jinx’s face is obscured by her hair.

“Jinx?”

“I pushed her away,” Jinx says with a shuddering exhale. “She… I lost her. I lost her again, Vanny, I fucking lost her.”

“And we’ll get her back,” you tell her. Knowing that she’s in no state to move, you take the fabric scissors from the medkit and snip away at the pant sleeve. You have a pair she can borrow afterwards. “What’s most important is that she’s alive, darling. And she came back for you.”

“She was with that girl.” Jinx’s face screws up. “She protected that girl.”

Carefully, you wipe the blood away before disinfecting the area with some rubbing alcohol. Jinx doesn’t even flinch, and you know just how much rubbing alcohol hurts on an open wound. With nimble hands, you wind the thread through the needle.

“And I protected you, to the best of my ability, anyway. Jinx, just because Vi didn’t want you to hurt the enforcer doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you back. I saw the way she looked at you while we were fighting— it was clear as day,” you remark. “Hold still.”

The needle pierces the pale skin of Jinx’s thigh. She finally winces, grabbing onto your shoulder.

More tears come from her face. You do your best to work quickly, but your priority is a clean suture that will hopefully heal within the next few days. It’ll give her time to recover, and more importantly, it’ll give you time to do some more scouting and recon work to find Vi and the enforcer. You know the leader of the Firelights. You know everyone in the Undercity.

But that doesn’t matter right now. Your focus is Jinx.

You tie the last suture into place. You press a bandage over the length of the gash.

“Toots?”

“Yeah?” You look up at her with all the reverence you can give.

Her voice is shaking. “I don’t want to be alone.”

You rest your head on her uninjured thigh. “You won’t be. Jinx, this is terrifying for me to say, but for as long as I’m here and breathing—” you grab her hand. “You’ll have me.”

“Promise?” Jinx looks at you, the redness of her eyes making your heart seize. You wish, in that very moment, that you could take every ounce of pain in her body and put it in yours. You could handle it. You would do it for her.

“I promise, darling.”

You kiss the bandaged wound softly before rising to your full height. Jinx wraps her arms around you, sinking into your warmth. You feel content knowing that she trusts you like this.

But you know that sooner or later, you’ll need to tell her what you’ve done.

“Hey, there’s a shower over there,” you say, jerking your head to a small door. “I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes. Sleep here tonight, my bed isn’t comfortable, but we’re safer here. I’d… I would feel better if you were with me.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice, toots,” she replies softly, her voice muffled in your shirt. You watch her get down from the table and slowly hobble to the shower. You give her a careful word of warning to keep the bandage dry and get a weak thumbs up in return.

While she’s busy, you clean up. Then, you pull the sleeves back of your shirt, revealing the devices strapped to your arms. With a near-silent shk, both blades extend when you pull your wrists back. The meteorite pattern within the blades brings your mind to the face of your mentor. When you look ahead, you see her standing there.

“I’m done letting you haunt me, Yelora,” you whisper, retracting the blades. You remove the straps and place them onto the table, daring the ghost to say a single word. She doesn’t.

Still, you need to tell Jinx.

“Here’s some clean clothes,” you say, shielding your eyes with your hand while laying some shorts and a ratty old t-shirt onto the countertop. Some water drips onto the floor below you, and a wet pair of lips smack against your cheek. Your face burns and you scuttle out of the shower room.

You do one last sweep on the exterior, checking the perimeter and securing the premises before returning back inside. By that time, Jinx is done, and she’s already in your bed. You seal the hatch, twist the locks and leave your knife by the bedside just in case.

Jinx gives you space to crawl in. You do so and she presses herself onto you completely, tucking her head into your neck. Seconds tick past and you know this is your only chance. This might be the last moment of peace you get with Jinx alone.

“I’ve never told anyone how I became the Vanisher,” you say, running your hands through her hair.

Jinx’s thumb, previously stroking your ribs, stills.

You take one deep exhale, before starting your story.

“I was born in Piltover to a lower house. I couldn’t remember the name even if I tried, but I somewhat remember the faces of my parents and my siblings. Two of them were older, and one of them was younger,” you say. Jinx starts playing with the fabric of your shirt, but you can tell she’s listening intently by the way she angles her ears more toward your mouth. “Maybe I was adopted and that’s why they never liked me so much. I don’t know. Either way, it was clear very early on that my parents never cared for me the same way they did with my siblings.”

When you shut your eyes for a brief moment, their faces are hazy in your mind.

“I… I recall walking home from somewhere and a woman stepped out from the shadows.” Your eyebrows pinch. “No, that’s not how it happened. I was angry, I remember being so angry that I was kicking the wall in an alleyway and punching it until my knuckles bled. I just wanted my family’s love.”

Jinx holds onto you tighter. She’s uncharacteristically quiet, but you take it as a sign of respect.

“A woman came up to me. She told me she understood my pain and that she could make it go away if I trusted her,” you continue. “I agreed. I was so enraged, ensconced in my own pain that I didn’t hesitate, and I went with her.”

The face of your mentor seems to stretch out from the metal on the ceiling, morphing and taking shape.

“Her name was Yelora,” you say. “And she was both the best and the worst thing to ever happen to me. She said I could make all of my worst fears, my worst nightmares, my worst feelings vanish. I was… eight years old, I think. I disappeared into Zaun. The enforcers never came after me, or if they did, they never found me. Yelora taught me everything I know; how to fight, how to kill, how to make people vanish in the blink of an eye.”

“So you became the Vanisher?” Jinx asks softly. She presses a soft kiss to your jaw and continues to do so. You find it more grounding than you expected, your soul coming back down to the surface in her arms.

“No, I was still training. She never mentioned anything about being the Vanisher until she told me to vanish my parents,” you say. You turn to lay on your side, allowing you to face Jinx. She puts her hand on your face, listening intently. She doesn’t look scared of you. She looks… understanding. You exhale and force yourself to admit the one thing you haven’t said in years. “I killed them. Whatever Yelora did to me made me forget their faces, but I still killed them. In the middle of the night, I made them vanish.”

“They sounded like assholes anyway, toots,” Jinx says. You slide your hand on top of hers, squeezing her fingers gently.

“After I did it, Yelora told me she believed I could be the next Vanisher. If I did one thing, and one thing only,” you say, your words smaller than a whisper. “If I vanished her successfully, then I would inherit her blades and take on the mantle until I chose somebody else, and the cycle would continue.”

“Oh, darlin’.” Jinx shakes her head. “You went through with it, didn’t ya?”

“I did. Every day I see her face, because I realize now I really didn’t want to kill her, but I did because I believed I had to.” Your voice cracks and you realize you’re crying for the first time in a very long time. Your throat is tight and the boiling point has been reached. You let it out— you start crying, because nobody has ever been there to hold you the way Jinx is holding you so tightly.

She kisses you, a balm to your agony and though you taste the salt of your tears on your lips, she provides a comfort you haven’t felt in a long while. You wind your arms tightly around her, bringing her as close as humanly possible to your body. It strikes you then how smooth the skin of her back is compared to you bearing scar after scar blemishing your skin. Her tongue on your lips is curious, probing, and you allow it.

You both know not to go any further tonight. There’s too much on your mind. You’ve spilled your heart and your sorrows to her. Jinx is exhausted, you see it in her eyes when she pulls back with a hazy, pleased smile on her face. Only she could make you feel a ray of sun on your face when the clouds overhead are stormy and grey.

Perhaps it’s too soon to feel the way you do about her. You were never the smart kid, too volatile until your training neutralized every emotion you had. But Jinx breaks through that with colors that make your black and white life seem so much more beautiful.

You press a kiss to her forehead. She tucks herself into you; both of you fall asleep wrapped up in each other, with nothing but a single blanket and your body heat to keep you warm.

When you dream, you don’t see Yelora’s face.

You don’t see anyones. For the first time in quite a long time, your sleep is nothing but an abyss of black ringed by a cerulean blue. No dreams, no terrors, nothing that snaps you awake in the middle of the night. Just…

Peace.

~~~~~

A/N: *sips water* it only gets worse from here on out folks!

tag list: @its-a-game-i-lost

#arcane jinx x reader #jinx x reader #jinx x fem reader #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane netflix #arcane #arcane imagines #arcane jinx imagines #the vanisher series

[moonlightmirrorball]

Jinx with a fem reader, but they end up adopting a little girl cus they cant leave her on the streets.

Jinx x Fem! Reader adopting a child headcanons

-You and Jinx are both unhinged impulsive little shits, so naturally, raising a family was the next step.

-you two have been together for about a year, after five years of excruciating tension and witty banter

-one particularly heated argument lead to an equally heated make out session (and then you guys fucked)

-one thing followed another, and you guys put a label on it. 

-Silco and Sevika were...not happy. 

-not because Jinx was dating a girl or because you were originally from topside (although you hadn’t lived on topside for eight years) but because they knew that you guys together would cause double the mess

-they weren’t incorrect

-you two had been on your way to do a job, when you saw her

-she was small and frail and clutching what seemed to be a pet rat

-it was love at first sight. 

-the rat, not the child (this is a joke, disregard) 

-Jinx was absolutely in love with the child, who you later found out was named Lorna

-You stayed with Lorna, getting to know her  better, while Jinx finished the job you had previously been trying to do

-by the time Jinx returned, you and Lorna were well acquainted

-”are you gonna be my moms?” 

-she was very shy at first, especially around Sevika, tending to cling to you or jinx 

-Jinx in hindsight, realized that you had adopted a literal child and have no knowledge of healthy parenting

-Silco dad tips for the win

-braid trains. always and forever. 

-Jinx is a braiding god, and managed to get Lorna’s rat’s nest of hair into two braids, not unlike her own. 

-Jinx played the fun mom, 100% 

-you played the more practical mom, band aids and comfort and such 

-eventually, Lorna was able to share about her past, allowing the three of you to form a closer familiar bond

-eventually called Jinx “momma” 

-you thought she might cry 

-it took Lorna about three weeks after that to call you mom

-you were ugly sobbing on the floor

-the only goal you and jinx set for her was to have a better life than either of you

-extremely ‘ramshackle’ family

-just a touch away from being dysfunctional, but over all a happy family 

-currently screaming over grandpa silco?!! (Lorna would probably call him Papa) 

- instead of a big party or a car, for her 16th birthday, Lorna got a gun and a tray of stolen cupcakes 

-In a perfect world, you two were also able have Vi be a part of Lorna’s life. 

-you were the one to break the news to Lorna when her pet rat died

-jinx was the one who found her a new rat

-Jinx didn’t want Lorna to know about her episodes, until she was older, and was under a lot of stress trying to hide it

-when she was older, Lorna learned how to help jinx through it

-hiding Lorna from enforcers

-and when she was old enough, Lorna applied to the academy (of her own volition) 

-You and Jinx being Proud Mothers (tm) 

these are really sloppy and I don’t really like them, but they’ve been sitting in my drafts for over a week..thinking maybe I might turn this into a series of short drabbles though. 

#arcane #arcane lol #arcane league of legends #arcane x reader #jinx #powder #jinx x reader #vi #caitlyn #sevika #silco #adoption #headcanons #arcane headcanons #Red Writes

[greatlydelirious]

𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐲𝐞

Silco x F!Reader

wordcount: 4k words

summary: You quickly gain the attention of the infamous “Eye of Zaun” as your ever-growing influence starts to create problems with his plans. Although you fought for the same cause, you didn’t see eye to eye on how to go about it. If only you could get Silco to see what you see.

warnings: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, angst, violence, eventual smut, eventual romance, mentions of past trauma

I: Territory

Smoke bellowed and swarmed every hidden corner of the city. There was no pretty name for it. Actually, before recently the undercity had no name at all. Unlike the glorious Piltover does of course. Above your head was the coveted city of progress. The irony often made you grimace rather than laugh.

What was that saying? The grass is always greener on the other side? Another thing to scoff at since no natural life grew from the ashes of the undercity. Except for in the greenhouses of Cultivair. But even then, only the wealthy few of Zaun had access to it.

Power and wealth made the world go round did it not?

Heavy boots pound against concrete in quick strides. A couple other pairs can be heard alongside the first. Your cigarette hung loosely from the side of your mouth. At this point air was a muddled concept for you. Something fresh and untainted disgusted you rather gave you an allure.

Years of blackened smoke and dust gave you an… acquired taste. One that the many enforcers who traveled to these depths needed gaudy masks to withstand.

As you walk through the streets many people give you a nod before quickly going back to what they were doing. You acknowledge them with a lift of your chin. Many had met you from your services and guidance, while a few others knew you from your days as a young delinquent.

To say your name got around would be a gross understatement. Anyone with half a brain left knew about you. Some even called you “the mother of the undercity”. Your enemies stuck with “troublesome bitch”.

Despite what people called you, you were a young woman with a heart of gold encased in cold armor. Fending for yourself on the streets with not a single coin to your name did that to you.

It was an almost overplayed story really. Man meets woman, man gives into his feral desires and promptly impregnates said woman, man leaves woman to deal with the child herself, woman gives up child because she does not have the means to take care of it; and that’s where your series of unfortunate events began.

Unlike so many others who had your same background, you built yourself from the ground up with nothing but determination and a fierce anger that reviled the largest men. You didn’t set out to become some type of savior or even a leader for that matter. But as you dealt with the cities true scum with not only your fists, but your wit, people naturally followed.

On the verge of a possible war and in the heat of revolution, fear ran rampant. That made people scamper towards anyone who held a semblance of power and confidence. Someone to take care of them, to assure them they will make it.

The dilapidated apartment complex you lived in for as long as you could remember quickly became the heaven for the Zaunites who fell through the cracks. You helped rehabilitate them, feed them, give them a home, and most importantly, make them realize they can be something stronger. Without the aid of chemical enhancers.

No one knew exactly how many people followed you. They stayed in the shadows, only showing themselves when doing work for the cause.

Your “group” didn’t have a name as showboating and smoke screens were not your forte. In fact, you despised such things that topsiders seemed to relish in. Not only them, but a certain powerful man who, you came to learn, also despised your guts.

Word on the street was that you were stealing Zaun from right under Silco’s nose. Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. Not that you did much to dissuade those rumors though. One of the only things that made you smile these days was the thought of making the Industrialist squirm.

You wanted independence from Piltover just as viciously as he did. However, the problem lied in how differently you both went about ensuring that future. Silco was, in your not so humble opinion, a garish tyrant that was influenced by pride and greed. He didn’t offer a sense of equality while fighting for a cause, but demanded total submission.

Men like that left a bad taste in your mouth. Absentmindedly, you run your fingers along the thick scar that sat just above the curve of your left breast, on your chest. They were the real dregs of society.

That was the past though, no amount of indulging in those bottled emotions would change that. Ten years could do a lot to a person. In the grip of time, you were ripped apart and sewn back together again.

The soft glow of pink light marks your destination. Rolling your shoulders, you crack your knuckles before knocking on the back door of the brothel. When the peephole opens followed by a grunt, all you have to do is nod your head for the entrance to open not even a second later. You and your two men enter the Gardens swiftly. Although a familiar place for you, it wasn’t for the usual reason.

As you walk past curtain closed rooms, noises of pleasure and, for those who are so inclined, pain narrate your path. If you hadn’t made all those risky decisions in life, you could have easily been one of the many masked people working here. Not that you frowned upon it; quite the opposite actually. That’s why you were here in the first place.

At the end of the hallway, you reach your desired room. One of your most trusted men Ezra draw back the certain for you to enter. Mistress Babette sits behind her desk with a couple papers laid out in front of her. The sight lets you know that this meeting already has more information than the last. Not that it was necessarily a good thing.

“Have a seat sweetheart. There are a couple things I must tell you.” Graciously, you take a seat across from the much smaller woman. She watches you calmly as you take a deep inhale of your cigarette before stubbing it out in her ashtray.

“Please tell me all is well Babette.” Thankfully your informed that you don’t have to pay any patrons who overstepped their bounds a visit. Instead, you learn detailed information about a new shipment of shimmer that was coming in. Brothels held a bounty of secrets ranging from innocent confessions to classified business dealings. Men had a tendency to say too much when soft lips were wrapped around their cock.

The Gardens is where most of your important intel came from. In exchange for your protection over the establishment and all its workers you were fed information. Your groups services were greatly sought after. All you asked for in return was loyalty to not only you, but the undercity when the time came to fight.

You shift in your seat to look at Ezra, “I want you to put together a small group consisting of some of our best fighters. Preferably ones that have been working with us for a while. This shipment could be a game changer for us.”

He gives you a charming smile, “Best fighters… so that means the three of us will be going?” The other man with you, Ballar, gave a comical flex of his arm. He was a very large man with the strong frame of a brick house. Ballar gave you great intimidation factor, but based on the times you saw him play with his son, he was a giant softy on the inside.

Ezra on the other hand was one of those ruggedly handsome types. His dark skin was littered with scars that held stories you saw firsthand and he was leanly built. Obsidian hair sat in a curly mess on his head which contrasted with his light brown eyes.

Many women and men in the lanes gave him some of the most lustful looks you had ever seen. For you though, Ezra was the closest thing to family you had. He had pulled you out of the soot and mud. Literally. Ezra found your unconscious body laying bloodied and beaten in an alley after a fight and nursed you back to health.

From that day forward you stayed by each other’s side. Loyalty was the most valuable thing someone could possess.

You thank Babette as she hands over the papers that contained the information, she shared with you. Tucking them in the pocket inside your coat, you, Ballar, and Ezra make your way back down the hallway.

Looks like you would be making a visit to the trading ports in a weeks’ time.

A figure leaning on the wall catches your attention. In a twist of fate grey eyes catch yours. The owner stops short, straightening their cloak before turning their attention towards you. Their eyes only stray from you give your company a once over. Tension started to spark in the air, but it only boosted your confidence.

“No need to stress yourself out Sevika. Isn’t that why you came here in the first place.” Your comment makes the woman grunt which, in turn, makes the corner of your lips twitch. She always found a way to amuse you. Sevika was definitely Silco’s best pawn. A part of you was even jealous that he nabbed her before you ever got the chance.

Stepping closer you let your breath fan across the side of the woman’s cheek. “As long as you don’t cause trouble nor will I. What you do on your free time is none of my concern.” You knew Sevika frequented the Gardens. Babette told you as much.

Sevika steps back from you with a glare, “I came her looking for you. Silco wants to speak with you at The Last Drop tonight.” That makes your eyebrows raise.

Ah. This wasn’t a twist of fate after all. “All work and no play today? That’s no fun.” She scowls when you teasingly pout at her. “Don’t be late.” Not wasting a second of her time, you watch as Sevika stomps out the building. What an elusive woman.

Silco sent his number one to request, no, demand your presence. This day was bound to happen sooner or later, but you still felt surprised.

Although you’ve interacted with Sevika on multiple occasions you had yet to meet the powerful man she works for. It would be a bold face lie to say you weren’t more than curious to meet the man who you caused so much trouble.

Today was turning out to be better than you hoped.

-

Music pounded in the building so forcefully it was a miracle the whole building stayed intact. The Last Drop was a place you frequented before the shift in power. After, you only ever saw what became of the dealing playground from the outside.

Not only was it a hub for affordable booze and shimmer, but for the shadiest type of business deals. The fact that you might be participating in the latter churns your gut. Silco wasn’t one for friendly chats. No. One of the newest men that came to you with more than a couple fingers broken after fucking up a job for Silco was evidence enough.

Four bodies flanked yours as you made your way through the club. The air was even more dense than outside due to the mass of people dancing and hanging inside the building. Giggles and shouts make you reminisce about when you use to be as carefree. That felt like centuries ago.

Two brawny men guard a staircase that led to, what you surmised was, the location of the Eye of Zaun. With all the décor it felt a little too on the nose for his acquired name. When you come close to the bottom of the stairs the guards immediately take action.

“I’m here to see your boss big man. No need to get worked up.” As you speak you take another step forward. You have to bring your voice to a near shout to be heard over the music.

A meaty hand connects with your chest; making you stop short with a huff. “Only you miss. Not the entourage.” Ezra and the three other people that work for you stood unmovable behind you.

“Miss, huh? I appreciate a man with manners, so I’ll put this nicely.” Grabbing the goon’s wrist, you twist it around in your hold to show the threat that you could snap it without a second thought. “Where I go, they go. If your boss has a problem with that, he can take it with the department of ‘I don’t give a fuck’.” You watch as his eyes rage with the emotions of indecision and fear.

When the occasion called for it, you could much more frightening than Silco. Seeming to know this, the goon nods his head, so you let go. At the same moment a voice coming from above catches your attention.

“Step back boys. I’ll show her up.” Straightening your clothes, you make your way up to the top of the staircase with your four people closely behind you. “I knew I would get a warm welcome. You never fail to disappoint me Sevika.” When you give her, a humor filled smile she just narrows her eyes.

Damn, Sevika should of really blew some steam off at the Gardens. Maybe than she wouldn’t have such a stick up her-

Sevika knocking on hard surface makes you stop your thought. She gives you a look that says, “don’t do anything stupid”, before opening a door and moving out the way so you can enter.

As you step into the room you take in every last detail. A soft green glow illuminates the room through a giant glass window that sat on the farthest wall from you. Smoke wafted from an ornate chair that was facing away from you. The willowy arm of its source sits on the armrest. For the untrained eye it was a calm, causal sight; but you knew a show of dominance when you saw it.

Wood scrapes across the floor as Sevika drags a chair in front of the desk before a taking a seat on a velvet red couch nearby. Not bothering to wait for permission you sit down. Two could play this game.

With slow grace the person sitting across from you swivels their chair to face you. You drink in the features of the infamous Industrialist with slow calculation. Other than hearing people’s vague descriptions, you never knew what Silco looked like. You hate to admit you found his looks appealingly intriguing.

Everything about the man was defined and compelling. Sharp lines carved the plane of his jaw, nose, and cheeks. It wasn’t the carefully concealed scars that caught your attention, but those piercing eyes. A striking mismatch of beautiful sea green and a fiery red encapsulated in black.

Forcing yourself to stray away from his eyes, you note that the rest of him was carefully put together. Hair slicked back nicely and clothes formal and pristine. From what you could see of his body the man was lithe; but from personally experience you knew that physical size never portrayed someone’s true strength. How fitting.

“I must say you are a hard woman to track down. I almost thought you were a made-up person at one point.” Silco takes a drag from his cigar as he appraises you as you just did to him. Crossing your legs, you don’t let your gaze stray from him for even a fraction of a second. “Better or worse than you expected?”

Silco raises a brow at your question, “That will be determined by the time we’re done here.” Your pleasantly surprised. He seemed to be a little more playful than you imagined. You watch as his gaze slides over the four people standing behind you.

“Although, I didn’t except you to bring company.” Intimidation by numbers wasn’t your thing, but after going to meet someone by yourself and almost being killed, you made the decision to put your pride aside. “Should a mouse go to a lion’s den unaccompanied? Sometimes the lion grants mercy, while other times the lion gets a free meal.”

Something crackled in the air between you two. Even though you couldn’t quite place why, it didn’t feel dangerous. Which for you, was more concerning than if it was. Silco places his cigar in a vibrantly colored ashtray before interlacing his fingers on top of the desk. “Do you believe I have heinous intentions?”

Leaning back, you make yourself comfortable. Might as well, by how this conversation was going you would be here for a while. “People like to take liberties when it comes to my life. I’ve simply learned from my mistakes Silco.” The perfect non-answer. A part of you wasn’t entirely sure of his intentions. If you were, you wouldn’t have come here in the first place.

You watch as his red tinged eye slightly twitches at your statement. “Smart girl.” Offering Silco only a slight upward tilt of your lips you correct him. “Smart girls can be found at the academy. I’m more of a stubborn girl.”

“Oh, I’m more than aware of your stubbornness.”

You tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy. “Is that right? I wasn’t aware I was plaguing your mind.”

Silco reaches for a piece a paper that was strewn amidst the many others laying on his desk. “Wrong wording dear. Meddling in my plans suits the situation at hand more.”

Now that makes you give a full smile. So, you have been making him squirm as much as you thought. “Is that why you have been searching all of Zaun for me? Sounds like you’ve be giving yourself more trouble by doing that.”

“Not when my shimmer sales have been going mysteriously down in certain areas.” Your playfulness quickly disappears. Ah. Now we’ve reached the reason he wanted to see you all along. Not for some banter, but one of the reasons you hated him so much; the shimmer distribution to the people of the undercity.

Although you could see the financial benefits of shimmer production, Silco was destroying his “beloved” city, instead of helping it prosper. Thankfully you had been able to help many users when they were only in the early stages of injection. Before the shimmer had mutated their bodies into something entirely different. No amount of money would make you forget the grotesque purple sores that ravaged a person overtime.

“What makes you think I have anything to do with that?” Silco regards you coolly before he lets out an amused huff through his nose. “Sevika, show yourself and the others out.” When she gets up and gives your people a pointed stare; they all move except for Ezra.

Instead, he looks at you for permission, displeasure with the situation evident in his eyes. Waving a hand nonchalantly, you try to quell his worry. “Go. If he wanted to try something he would have already.” Silco was the type to play with his prey, but he wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of finding you, just to kill you. Not yet, at least.

Ezra nods before following the others out the room. When Sevika closes the door, Silco starts up again. “My sellers near Emberflit Alley particularly have been turning up with not only no shimmer with no coin to show for it, but beaten to a pulp. You wouldn’t happen to know about that either would you?”

You feel your blood start to heat up. “Your precious lanes and virtually every other crevice of Zaun has been left to be pumped full of that pink poison. Is that not enough for you?” Silco leans forward, letting the back of his hand support his chin. It seemed as though your comment bored him.

“It’s the principal of territory. I can’t let people think they can do what they please on what isn’t theirs. That’s why we have revolted against Piltover in the first place, yes?” Now your blood was boiling. We? There was no we with Silco. You almost wanted to laugh with how funny that concept was to you.

Straightening your back, you drop any attempt to be friendly. “Isn’t theirs? I can bet everything I have on the fact that I’ve been near Emberflit Alley longer than you ever have in your whole life. And judging by the fact Sevika waited me out in the Gardens, you know I have claim in some areas of the lanes as well.”

Silco narrows his eyes, “That can only support your for so long. Any bigger force can come along and crumble what little power you have.” The threat was obvious. Succumb to him or be taken by force. As if you would ever do the former.

“I’m not trying to have a pissing contest with you Silco. All I care about is the brothers and sisters of the undercity. Not how much power I have so my cock looks bigger.” You don’t feel any gratification when that makes Silco chuckle.

“Then you’ll do what is best for everyone and align yourself with me. I am even willing to make you a chem-baron; giving you unquestionable say over that Emberflit Alley of yours.” Shock makes you pause from your incoming tirade. At the most you thought Silco was going to attempt to threaten you into submission, not offer you the authority that comes with being chem-baron.

Anyone else would jump like a salivating dog for the opportunity, but you aren’t anyone else. Although morals didn’t plaque you, a code of ethics did. A code which despised praying upon the already impoverished and weak. The type of people those scummy chem-barons use to be, but now used for their bidding.

Shaking your head in disbelief you prepare yourself to get the fuck out of here. You had heard enough. “The last thing I want is to be associated with you.”

Silco grabs his forgotten cigar from the ashtray; evidently, he was becoming as agitated as you. “We aren’t so different.” Thin lips wrap around the strongly scented tobacco. Even while toying with the item, he doesn’t look away from you; the crackling in the air between you only intensifying.

The feeling is so intense it almost throws you off. You try to brush it off as just your mutual contempt.

You scoff, “I’m nothing like you Silco. I want the undercity to be its own thriving society. Not a corrupt corporate business where you leech off the less fortunate.”

He gives you a look so fierce, that if you were anyone else you would have had a heart attack out of fear. “You need to understand that I’m not making a request. If anything, I am being… generous towards your ignorance.”

You are finally pushed past the limit of what you can take. If you stay in this room any longer, you’ll start a war separate from Piltover.

“Well understand this.” Standing up, you roughly place your hands on the desk so you can lean into Silco’s personal space. “I will do anything for my people; and nothing and no one can stop me.” Not giving him the opportunity to say anything else you make your way out the door in a fury.

Ezra, who had been nonstop tapping his foot since he was banished to the hallway, immediately rushes over to you. Too fuming to put anything into words you simply shake your head at him before going back from where you came; the four people that accompanied you having to rush to keep up.

Unbeknownst to you, even when the door closed those mismatched eyes stared at where you left. An amused smirked curls his lips as Silco recounts the meeting. The “mother of undercity” was not as virtuous as he thought.

Your spirit reviled another young woman in his life. He was never when to turn away from a challenge though. At least now Silco had a seemingly worthy opponent.

Sevika comes into his office not long after your hasty exit. “Do you want me to go after her?” Silco shakes his head, a new sparkle glinting in his eye. “No need. She’ll be back soon enough.”

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#silco x reader #silco x you #silco #arcane x reader #league of legends x reader #arcane imagines #arcane #delirious masterlist #eye for an eye masterlist

[simpfiles]

Cockroach: Prequel to A Work in Progress |1.1K|

a/n.     was suppose to be a little snippet to give more insight on silco and reader's relationship when they were young but turned into a whole fic. part of a work in progress series.

read on ao3.     here.

There are few unequivocal truths in the world. Water is wet, Runeterra is round, and if you scream Silco will come running to you.

Silco drops the paring knife he was using to make dinner at the call of his name, not bothering even a glance back as it clattered to the floor.

“Silco Silco Silco!” you whine, behind a closed bathroom door with your back against the wall, “Silco please get here now!”

He yells your name as he bangs on the door and you scream again, your pitch reaching a fervor shill screech, “Stop that!”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his mind already conjuring the worst possible scenarios.

All of them fall flat when you wail with such pathetic tenor, “There’s a cockroach in here!”

He stops and freezes, the initial fear recessing past his perplexed features. “ —Is – is that all?”

“It’s a big cockroach! Come in and kill it!”

“You need to unlock the door.”

“If I open the door it might freak out and fly into my mouth!”

He makes a resentful sound of heated annoyance, his waning patience manifesting in the drop of his head, “If you don’t open the door I can’t come in.”

There’s a pause.

“Fine.” You answer, “But wait til I give the ok.”

Silco agrees and listens carefully. First came the unmistakable sound of a lock being turned. Then the sound of something less easy to identify…the shuffling sound of—plastic?

“Ok now!”

He steps in the small narrow bathroom, teetering to and fro for any sights of the cockroach or you. “Where did you see it?” He asks, clutching a half used jar of lotion.

“On the counter.” You call out from behind the shower curtain.

“It’s not there.”

You stumble out of the tub, tepided horror enunciated in your uncertain steps towards him, scanning the perimeter with rapid paranoia. “He was there.” you assure, “Check again.”

“You must have scared it with your screaming,” he begins, ignoring your insistent ‘no’ and following your gaze with vapid interest, “It will show up again. Next time you see it, don’t scream.”

“It wasn’t my screaming and I don’t feel safe until I know he’s dead.”

He is absolutely astounded by your cowardliness, having seen you go toe to toe with enforcers and squash bugs with your bare hands — yet the mere presence of such a roach has you acting like a child. “Keep food and water in storage and it will eventually grow weak and die.”

“That could take forever. Can I at least stay at your place until then?”

The thought of you in his bed, wearing his clothes to bed was enough to make his heart sputter and he quietly considers saying yes. But then he remembers how tight of a fit his bed already is when shared with his brother and the snoring that he’s gone deaf to but would undoubtedly keep you up. Shortly he replies, “No.”

A few days pass before you see the cockroach again. You could have sworn it grew in size and told Silco as much while helping him unload crates of bootleg goods in the back alley of Fisher Road.

“I”m telling you, it’s not getting weaker. If anything, it feeds on my fears.”

“I still don’t understand where that fear derives from.”

“It. Can. Fly.”

He raises a brow, recklessly kicking an empty crate off the pile to gain access to the next level. “That’s all?”

You frown. “When a bug flies into your mouth, we’ll see how cavalier you are about the whole situation.”

His lips split into a toothy grin with a spluttering laugh, “Is that a personal experience?” You don’t answer. “I’ve kissed you,” he continues, making a face, “ew, bug breath.”

You punch him in the arm.

It’s late when you come home and Silco is waiting at your door, nursing a cigarette. He snubs it out upon seeing you, raising his hand to greet you. When you come closer he kisses your cheek and waits to be let in. You two talk about your days, how it was Vander’s turn to cook so Silco was starving and hoped you had something good to eat. You point to your counters, small jars of various pickled foods pushed against the edge of the wall. “Help yourself.”

He picks nu roots submerged in red vinegar, stained a bright pink with traces of white beneath its surface.

“Are you planning on staying the night?” You ask.

He shrugs carefully nonchalantly as to not indicate too much investment, “If you’ll have me.”

“Sure.” you respond cheerfully, carding your fingers through his hair as you head to the bathroom. “Make yourself at home and take off your shoes.”

You walk down a dimly lit narrow hall, terror growing in the pit of your stomach the closer you get, practically slithering out of your abdomen when you’re met with the obsidian black eyes of your enemy.

“Silco!” You yell, your gaze steadfast on the roach, unwilling to let it escape again.

He dashes behind you, swiftly pushing you aside to stomp barefoot on the menace, efficiently trapping it between the rug and his foot. “Paper.” he demands level-headed in direct juxtaposition to your quivering form. “Paper!” his hand outstretched towards you, snapping you out of your initial disgust. You grab a wad of toilet paper and hand it to him, trying not to look at the spinely appendages poking out from underneath his foot.

“Wait!” You rush to a safe spot outside of the bathroom, peering past the door frame. “Ok.”

Without hesitation, Silco lifts his foot and snatches the roach between thin layers of toilet paper, In a two-step movement he positions the bug’s toilet paper wrapped head between his thumb and forefinger, crushing it in a deathly grip, twisting his wrist to ensure a SNAP. Repeatedly.

Disposing of it in the toilet without much of a performance, he looks at you rather bored and done, as if to say happy?

“Thanks.” you say, moving from your hiding place into frame, a sense of embarrassment washing over you now that the threat is gone. “Wash your hands and I’ll make you some dinner.”

Silco looks down at his hands, his features tightening into a twisted smile and an evil glean in his eyes after a moment’s pause. “Lovely,” he begins, taking a step closer to you, palms up at his sides.

“Don’t even think about it.” You warn, raising a finger and step back.

Another step forward, “But—”

“Nh Ah!” Another step back.

You scream and he runs.

#silco #silco x reader #awip #i need to keep a tag for that series #based on true events

[moonsdancer]

FIRST LINE OF YOUR LAST 20 STORIES

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Picking up @laufire @laufire-writes open tag, mostly to try and remind myself that there was a time I was able to string more than one sentence together, and maybe inspire me to write competently again.

1. Her first set of pigments are a present from Kino. It’s not the usual thing to gift a five-year-old, at least not in Noxus. (a few portraits of the artist as a young woman | mel-centric series of reflections on her relationship with art, war, ptsd, nightmares, love. 4.3k words, t-m)

2. “I must say, I expected the golden boy not the ivory tower’s princess.” (rules of parlay | mel & silco (& jayce) au in which mel is the one who meets silco to negotiate peace. 5.7k words, pg)

3. The impromptu enforcer raid on The Oasis, one of the seediest Bilgewater motels he’d ever encountered, was an unexpected snafu. (bilgewater blues | mel & jayce spy/assassin au loosely based on the film 'mr and mrs smith'. 3.4k words so far, one chap, m-e)

4. Mel doesn’t want to be here. (the scrupulous art of keeping a secret | mel and jayce one-shot, canon-based secret relationship fic, part of the less serious bluewind court series. 3.2k words, hard m)

5. She’s always had a weakness for ornate and beautiful things. (magpie eyes | mel-centric one-shot for melweek on the subject of hair. 1k words, t)

6. The first prayer she ever learned to utter at the age of four, Papa’s callused hands always, always grasping her own, went like this—

The gold of the sun adorns His horns, and its fire lights His heart. Let the thunder of our shields ring out like the thunder of His hooves across the horizon—

She didn’t understand the words, not really but they lived inside her. (consecrated bodies | mel-centric one-shot for both melweek-gold and arcane parenting week-gift exploring her relationship with her father, sun worshipping cult and wolf-cruel family legacies, and armour. 2k words, t).

7. Kino had been an easy birth. (the child is a blade | ambessa-centric one-shot for arcane parenting week-favourite. 1.5k words, gen, pg).

8. Viktor is well aware of how—what is the word one would use—creepy he comes across on first meeting. (sancta trinitas | viktor-centric meljayvik story. 15k words, m-e).

9. “I killed you!” Powder crows, waving her paint gun in the air as she leaps from her hiding place behind the massive rusty truck that’s been gathering cobwebs and dirt in the empty used vehicle-and-any-other-shit-nobody-wants junk heap for longer than they’ve both been alive. Probably. (junk heap ghosts | ekko-centric, ekko x jinx story that was loosely themed, all the times they try to kill each other. 4.2k words, t-m).

10. Jayce woke to the sound of a smoky-voiced woman singing over a guitar and a sultry harmonica, the phonograph’s static crackle underneath. (ut somnium | mel & jayce one-shot, jayce pov on mel the artist. 2.1k words, m).

11. One day, a Wolf sat licking the bones of her last meal clean. (the wolf has golden teeth | mel-centric fic tracing her story from childhood to the finale of s1 of the show. 12.3k words, pg - e).

12. The foreman of the Talis Forge was most kind if a little wide-eyed when he saw her milling outside his office a short time before closing hour. (in search of a certain elusive gentleman | mel & jayce one-shot, how their forge scene in ep7 actually played out. 3.2k words, m-e).

13. “You’re angry with me…?” (the subtle art of conflict resolution | mel & jayce one-shot, in which mel's pissed by being blind-sided by jayce's heimerdinger coup, they fight, solve their conflict in the best way. 2.1k words, m-e).

14. The Pale Lady always comes to her in the earliest hours of the morning. (a rose by any other name | mel-centric story in which she's a black rose agent sent to infiltrate piltovan society on behalf of the noxian empire, written back when we thought that was a possibility. 5.4k words, t-e).

15. Mel Medarda has almost always been the smartest person in any room she occupies. (wise men say [you're not part of the plan] | mel-centric one-shot from way back in act1 where i got the vibe meljay would happen but was too scared to hope for it, m).

16. Sangwoo spots him the minute he enters the bar. (the bounty | idk a vaguely space western-ish squid game fic ft ali and sangwoo, 2.6k words, e).

17. “That tickles,” a muffled voice purred from beneath a pillow. (well caught, my darling | hacy, charmed cw one-shot, 1.8k words, e).

18. “Heard the new guy’s some kind of hotshot high warlock—from the Germanic Coven or something like that?” (blood in the water | bonnie bennet and kai parker, bonkai au that tweaks the gemini coven's practises a little bit and puts them both as teachers at the magic school. 9.5k words, e).

19. It was hard to overcome the feeling of gross violation. (we keep meeting like this... | hacy, charmed cw one-shot, 5kwords, t-e).

20. She feels like a goddamn criminal. (the devil makes us sin | clark luthor & lois lane, sv luthorverse au. 4.7k words, t-e).

Patterns: There's a pretty good balance between starting with dialogue, which I tend to like to do because it situates me right in the voices of the characters and allows me to establish that action quickly vs. starting with a slightly more descriptive but still pretty short sentence. I think I used to start with much longer sentences in my older fics, really lengthy descriptive screeds. But rarely do that now but there are few moments of that. In general, I like to just start in the middle of the action or a conversation. I'm mostly struck by how much Arcane, and Mel in particular, have inspired me lol, brainrot.

Favourite: #6 because that's probably one of my fave stories I've written along with #11, I like my fake Noxian fable.

Please consider this an open tag, anyone with energy or desire to do this, I've tagged you, go to town!

#my fic #mel medarda #jayce talis #bonnie bennett #kai parker #hacy #meljay #bonkai #timebomb #ekko #jinx #tag games #clois

[insane-arcane]

Silco's Enforcer Child

...

Chapter One

Swirling your brush in a cup the clinking sound echoes in the open space, reminding you of the click of a gun. The once red color in the cup turned a murky violet. A dark dusk of sorts. Your head spun as you tried not to focus on the color, fire filling your vision before it disappeared as you pulled your paintbrush back and dipped it in a soothing blue, some light green tipped on the now wet brush end.

Staring at a picture of a blurry silhouette with sharp clothes you hum wondering what color eyes they had. As you stir new shades and tints on your pallet you imagine what the person's nose shape was like. If their mouth was big or small. Where they belonged in the jumble that was your brain and the locked past it held. The fish swimming around the person's head was a stylistic choice but as you mixed the blue and green you wondered if there was more to it. If the person enjoyed the aquatic creatures or perhaps lived near the river edge?

"(Y/N)." Not looking up from your latest artwork as Caitlyn walked in you frowned, taking a step back to try and piece it all together. The last light of the day leaked through the giant studio windows giving your work a golden halo, putting it in a new perspective. Studying the edges and the details you'd painted they became blurry with the sunlight. Clutching your pallet knife you tilt your head, this piece had less detail on the person than your other ones. However, the colors were bolder and more defined with sharper lines. The background was the emphasis but for once you felt like you actually knew what this person looked like. You just weren't able to paint it yet, not fully committed to the details.

How strange that you remembered this outfit so clearly, having drawn it a million times but not the features of the person who wore it. Mixing a different color on your pallet without looking down you purse your lips trying to concentrate as you add something else to the background. You could faintly remember sea blue. Maybe a soft gray or green. A lighthouse or the ocean perhaps? Is that why you added the fish?

Whoever he was, he was important as this wasn't the first portrait you'd done of him. He was a lanky man in a red and black suit with a white dress shirt. The background was a blur of grays and greens with purple brush strokes that looked like fish but maybe smoke if you squinted. The whole picture was odd. Staring at it too long made your head hurt because it felt strangely familiar. He was important to you. Whoever he was. Just another piece of the puzzle that was your past.

"You know usually I'm the one obsessing." She states referring to her yellow tape and red thread board back home. "Come now you can't wear your smock to the art show tonight." Caitlyn scolds as she places a nice outfit down on the cleared part of your glass art desk. You shook your head in response tsking softly.

That was a risky move given the fact paint somehow always got on your clothes no matter what you did in this room. Briefly glancing at the ensemble you wonder if she was trying to ruin the clothes to make an excuse to skip the event, whatever it was tonight.

As the natural light began to fade the painting no longer glowing, you signed placing your brushes and pallet down. The blank face of the man you were trying to paint wasn't going to get any more detail any time soon. Though you guessed that's just how it worked. Reaching out wishing you could pull the man out of the painting, ask him all your burning questions, you paused not wanting to touch the wet paint.

He wouldn't be able to answer you anyways. Bits and pieces, never the whole picture. Always searching and wanting for more. Insatiable…

"(Y/N)." Caitlyn states again as she tries to gain your attention but your focus was elsewhere, lost in this room and your work. Taking a deep breath to try and gather yourself for whatever she was going to say next, you could feel a headache coming on and you didn't like it. Rubbing at your temples you hum indicating you want her to continue but she remains quiet waiting for you to speak.

Rolling your eyes before staring at your painting as your hands touch the glass of your art desk behind you, you try and ground yourself. To bring yourself back to a safe space. Instead you think of your endless collages, or the box of failed faces. As one hand came to press against your forehead pushing your hair back and giving you some clarity you spared a glance at said box which you'd pushed into the corner out of frustration. Another recently failed project. You'd tried placing different details from different paintings and projects together, overlapping them over one another to try and get a full person. They always came out looking horrid. Like some kind of twisted nightmare rather than a real person from a memory. Very occasionally you'd get a full face but mostly you had slightly warped portraits or very blurred places. Nothing solid if it was anything before you came to Piltover.

As your fingers touched the box observing the torn pieces of canvas and failed attempts you realized you'd crossed the room without noticing. Humming you paused, wandering if you should worry about that. About to sass Caitlyn, your words suddenly die on your tongue as your eye catches something. One of your shredded pieces that had bright pink and blue. Your hand shook as your thumb grazed the ungesssoed canvas and faintly you heard distant laughter. Echoing in an alley.

"Art… Art show?" You finally question Caitlyn, composing yourself as you let your hands fall to your sides so you could steady them and let her untie your messy smock. As you let go of the canvas and stepped back from the box slowly your mind was getting out of painting mode. You began to relax as you focused on your friend and what she was saying rather than your lost memories. The woman in question groans in exasperation before pinching her nose as she steps back letting you shrug off the apron. Noticing she's in her enforcer uniform and not a dress for what you assume is a galle event you smile and shake your head as she takes the apron from you hanging it up on its hook with the others. Stepping towards your curtains as she does that, you close them before the room's timer goes off and gas powered light fills the space with an artificial glow.

Only gone a minute and you already missed the sunlight.

"Honestly I thought I was the obsessed one. Your dad rented out the gallery again," She informs you like a mother scolding a child who forgot something important. Needing to do something not able to sit still as you come out of your trance state she begins walking around the room cleaning up things in the messy space as she tries to get you ready to go. Scraping paint off pallets and dumping them into soapy water to soak you watch with an amused smile as she places your brushes on the counter to be cleaned later. She paces nervously fidgeting with one of your brushes before turning towards you looking worried. Her Violet eyes seeming unsure.."... Don't you remember? He's showing your work tonight. He's been talking about it all week." Caitlyn states before she pushes off whatever emotions she was feeling as she crossed her arms. You briefly remember that conversation but was that really tonight? The week had been a blur of research and projects and events, flashing cameras and reporters all over the campus as you tried to study and work. There was barely a moment's rest to yourself until you locked the door to your art studio for some peace and quiet. Groaning as you pinch your nose and clench your eyes you wish one of your maids had reminded you but with how distracted you'd been lately maybe they had.

Swallowing you looked towards a vase in the room. Flowers your father had dropped off while you were deep in thought and surrounded by your artwork. Thinking back you couldn't remember the conversation but logically it was likely about the gallery. Pulling at your hair out of habit you hummed, you really were a mess as of late. With the anniversary of you being found soon you guessed that made sense. Your thoughts and feelings all being in disarray, your "spells" being worse than usual.

Staring at the water cup with the swirling purple you see the smoke again, you taste the gun powder. Thinking back that was one of your more clear memories, the first you were sure was true. Blinking you were back on that bridge again. The smoke making you choke before the rush of clear air as your dad's heavy enforcer mask settled over your face. You could feel yourself being small, feel his uniform as he pressed you into his shoulder and took you home. The question had been deeply ingrained in you for so long but you still didn't know the answer; What were you doing on that bridge?

Closing your eyes not wanting to think of that right now you took another deep breath to steady yourself. You didn't want to spiral.

"That's tonight?" You ask not sure how you forgot as you begin to take off your shirt to change. Caitlyn's face goes red and she turns away from you before tapping her foot angrily. The sound bounces around in your head and something about this feels familiar in a way you can't quite explain.

Sharp blue eyes on a stern face and crossed arms come to mind as a black boot taps impatiently away but the flash is gone as soon as it comes. Touching your desk feeling cool glass under your fingertips you swallowed. Did you take your meds today, your headaches were worse than usual, these flashes more frequent… your therapist warned the incoming anniversary of you being found could trigger some repressed memories but this felt excessive. You'd been doing so well.

"Yes, now hurry up and get dressed! I'm your escort and bodyguard tonight. Marcus tried to put me outside but I didn't want to miss anything. Just..." She hesitates and you smile softly as you put on the white shirt with the looped gold collar. The golden hoop of the white dress shirt hung heavy around your neck as it looped and clicked behind your shoulders but sliding the black slacks on you admit Caitlyn chose well, never one for fashion didn't mean she didn't have a good eye. You'd be lost without her in more ways than one. Slipping on a dress jacket that was your favorite color you hum glancing at the wall of mirrors in your studio. Doing a little spin watching seven you's spin back in response you nod to yourself.

"Just in case." You finish her thought for her as you smooth out the shirt and jacket with a blank face. Seeing your reflection she sighs and you hum smiling as you keep adjusting your clothes to look presentable. Your headaches had been at an all time low before today and despite your forgetfulness and the dreaded upcoming date you felt confident. I mean your skull was pounding and the flashes were more frequent but you knew you could handle the gala tonight, you had done it before with way worse pain and you didn't want anyone to think something was wrong.

You were fine, everything was fine…

"Just please tell me you didn't forget! I couldn't get off duty tonight to attend as a guest. To schedule myself at your gala as a guard I had to take a double shift at work and to be your personal escort and guard that was a whole nother mountain of paperwork and personal favors. A lot of enforcers like your work ya know, and all the new guards want to meet you. I mean you are your father's child. Everyone wants to show their support. Or get… favors." She states matter of factly with slight distaste making you chuckle. The both of you were no stranger to your families status and the luxuries that came with your last names.

"Right, my hero." You hum a teasing smile on your lips as you watch your friend rant getting out her emotions about these type of events and what people really wanted from them. They were meant to help people and yet help was often the last thing on people's minds unless it was them getting it. You had to admit as she lectured the wall she was cute. Her overprotectiveness always made you feel special and even as her new job as an Enforcer you were always on her mind. Maybe not in the same way as before but you could accept that. As you adjust your jacket, sticking your hands into the pocket, you send her a playful smirk.. "Oh and you do know escort has a double meaning, correct Caitlyn darling?" You ask in a sultry voice wanting to tease her hoping it'll loosen her up a bit. She turns and staring at her, her violet eyes scan your form. Puffing out her cheeks embarrassed as she understands what you mean you walk out of the studio with her following close behind.

You catch her smile in the corner of your eye but say nothing simply walking outside into the hallway and through the large manor to the awaiting carriage outside.

~~~

The ride had been quiet the last few minutes. You'd joked about opening a bottle of champagne to celebrate but Caitlyn gently informed you she couldn't drink tonight and you didn't want to be sipping alone. A rock had formed in your throat and as you fidgeted with your hands every jolt of the carriage put you on edge. What had started as a fun ride was slowly turning into your worst nightmare as the Galla got closer.

Caitlyn these last couple months had gone from your closest friend to your body guard, one of her most frequent Enforcer jobs being to watch you. As work and friendship crossed you were unsure where your new relationship stood. If you were just overthinking and if it had changed at all.

As the carriage stops suddenly you hum feeling your stomach doing flips. Adjusting your accessories and clothes nervously, you close your eyes feeling the pulsing behind your eyes worsen. The thought that you could claw your temples open to feel some relief crosses your mind but you stay silent not voicing that thought. Caitlyn frowns noticing your unsteady state before she takes your hands into her own.

Eyes snapping to look at hers at the surprise contact her thumb brushes the back of your palm. "You're not looking very well. If you're not up for it we can turn around. Say you got sick…" She suggests softly before looking towards the curtain separating you from the driver. Staying quiet not wanting to be teased, one of her hands goes to your cheek and leaning into her hold you close your eyes taking a deep breath. What a nice thought…

"I'm just tired. I'll be fine after some wine." You joke before sighing deeply as she just stares at you waiting for the truth. You shift in the plush seats and just breathe. These events could be fun or cumbersome, tonight seemed to be the later. Shifting the curtains when you no longer feel bumps you realize you'd arrived. As you watch cameras flash, high society people get their pictures taken before entering the galla. You were no stranger to being in the spotlight and yet you felt you never quite belonged there. Your art told a story, your story. And you weren't sure if you wanted to share it. Especially since you barely knew your story yourself. You don't remember how the Gallas started, only that once your first piece was put up it hadn't stopped since.

A prodigy some called you. An imposter you told yourself.

"I-" She starts but your hand is already on the carriage handle before you lose the nerve. Twisting and pushing it open light floods your eyes as your regular driver waits outside for you. Voices surround you and you feel woozy as you're transported to a different place with different sounds. Your driver bows, snapping you back before holding out his hand. Feeling disorientated you reach out, your touch going from cold metal to warm leather. As he grips your hand firmly your eyes widen. Stepping down from the carriage into his hold you get a memory of someone holding your hand as you hop down from a curb. A man in a red and black suit…

As people chatter away excited to get a glimpse of you, reporters ask questions as cameras flash. The drivers grip remains and each step down the carriage steps contains a different image but right as your about to get the whole picture, the flashes are over in an instant. Just like the camera shutters around you.

As you stand there eyes wide in surprise, Caitlyn puts her hand to your back shocking you. You snap out of it, grounded by her touch and knowing smile before you begin to walk forwards at her silent instruction. Waving at reporters from famous newspapers you act normal. Enforcers nod keeping the crowd contained but the familiar faces do nothing to soothe your feelings.

Standing tall you walk forward with practiced elegance, reminding yourself you only need to make it to the entrance. As journalists fire off their usual questions about your outfit, your art, and if you've had any recent episodes you smile and wave not answering any of them. Caitlyn stands close as she follows you, her hand pressed firmly against your back and soon you stand in front of two polished doors. The enforcers on either side glare at Caitlyn before smiling at you as they bow and let you both inside. You don't miss Caitlyn's frown but it's gone as quick as it comes, similar to your flashes.

Unable to dwell on it, you walk through the open entrance and into the large art gallery. As you hear the familiar click of the heavy doors behind you, the light changes as you go from outside to inside. Your familiar work hangs from every wall in the space and you know every guest in this room.

Breathing heavily Caitlyn opens her mouth to say something but decides against it. You're grateful, only needing a minute from her. Leaning down and closing your eyes you hum, taking a deep breath before you nod and compose yourself.

Observing the space you took comfort in seeing your work. Some of the pieces are projected as holograms lighting up the room, while others are sculptures scattered about, and elsewhere are large oil paintings and mixed medium collages. Letting out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding you let yourself relax. While the night isn't over it feels safer surrounded by things you understand. With Caitlyn's hand moving from your back to more comfortably settle on your shoulder you nod at her feeling the episode pass.

A real smile begins to overtake your face as you take in all your old work. Your father was good at asking before picking some of your pieces to sell and getting his friend who owned the gallery to hang and price them. While some were harder to give up then others you always said yes putting all the money you made towards the Undercity and the relief effort you'd started there. The orphanage and jail always appreciating your efforts. It wasn't much compared to what else you could be doing but your father liked to organize these for you to give you some peace of mind about the UnderCity and its limited resources. You know he'd much prefer you'd paint full time and let him handle the charity affairs. He didn't want you going into any dangerous job options like Caitlyn and him had.

"A full house tonight. You never cease to impress." Caitlyn states as she bumps your shoulder. Nodding as you come out of your haze, seeing a lot of familiar faces and some new ones in the corner of your eye you watch as people mingle and talk about your art. Trays stacked high with hor de vours and various selections of alcohol pass making the guests smile and laugh as they took their fill.

Searching the room you get a wide smile on your face as you see Jayce and Victor standing off to the side. They're looking at one your father insisted on displaying so he could buy it and support your cause. Running towards them you hug Viktor before he can respond. He stumbles back leg nearly buckling but hugs you back with the same enthusiasm you do him. His laugh lightens your mood as Jayce helps support his fellow inventor and you hum as he squeezes you tight. Jayce joins the hug with his own laugh before he takes you from Viktor and picks you up spinning you around.

"Show off." Viktor teases as he taps his cane against Jayces leg. Jayce simply snorts and puts you down much to the amusement of onlooking guests. He ruffles your hair before doing the same to Viktor with that same hearty smile. Caitlyn, while seeming unamused, has the tinest smile on her lips at your childish behavior.

"Look at you. You're a regular Divinchi." Jayce compliments before he wraps an arm around your shoulder and gestures to your work. Feeling your cheeks darken you lean against him happy he could make it with his busy schedule. He chuckles at your flustered expression and tucks some stray hair behind your ear as you smile up at him.

"Often insanity and creativity walk hand in hand I admit. Though Divinchi is a high title to live up to." You respond making him shake his head. His chocolate eyes shine as he squeezes you close.

"And a poet too. Viktor look at our little idealist, they're all grown up now." Viktor rolls his eyes at Jayces antics before he stares at you. Shifting his cane to be center he leans slightly forward and nods agreeing.

"You my dear have many talents. I envy them all." He says genuinely tilting his head towards the piece they'd been looking at. Staring at it you smile, the portrait of you and your father making you happy. You'd wanted to gift it to him but he wanted to support you, so here it hung with his bid already placed. A man who's actions spoke louder than any words he'd ever said.

"Oh." You state eyes widening as you notice a large canvas with the school painted on it next to your family portrait. "Is Heimerdinger here?" You question, suddenly curious about your teacher and the oldest council member. You had no idea why they came to these things but the council members always stopped by to show their support, ever since your first galla. It was only kind of you to return the gesture by thanking them for coming and catching up. Even if you didn't always want to.

"You know Heimerdinger he's… everywhere." Caitlyn lets out a snort at Jayces unhelpful comment and Jayce flicks her hats feather in response. As they begin to argue you turn to nod your head at Viktor before you slip off into the crowd to find the council members and maybe your father.

Grabbing a glass of champagne as it passes the waiter nods his head at you before he goes to service other guests. Smiling as you sip at the bubbly liquid your eyes scan the space looking for various people to say hi too.

Catching a glint of metal from across the room you pause turning your head to get a better look. Spotting Marcus you smile before waving at him, holding up your champagne to toast. His associates all have wine glasses but his hands are suspiciously empty. As he nods his head at you politely holding up his hand to give a small wave you chuckle gesturing for him to come over. He shakes his head no and waves his hand away gesturing for you to go back to your friends. Humming you take a step closer noticing he's with an odd crowd. One you haven't seen at your galas before.

Beginning to walk towards them to see what they're all looking at you pause before pushing that feeling of suspicion away. As you stop shoes no longer clicking against the tile you swallow. Caitlyn told you to have fun and the night was young, you couldn't be focusing on your delusions now. Blowing him a little kiss he shakes his head and taps his chest on the opposite side of his badge, gesturing to you that he received the kiss and was keeping it safe. An old and bit odd inside joke. But one you refused to let go of regardless. You wave before turning to disappear into the crowd. Taking another sip of champagne you do your best not to feel anxious as Marcus's strange friends stare a hole into your back.

As a hand grabs your shoulder you quickly turn eyes wide as you get ready for a fight. "You can't just wander off!" Staring at Caitlyn your body unstiffens and you once again relax as you almost finish off your champagne. Just a few hours anyone could do this for a few hours.

"Sorry, just saying hello." You hum much to her displeasure.. Smiling softly as she relaxes you once again sip at your drink trying to soothe your rattled nerves. Nothing was wrong, you needed to calm down. You could do this.

Wandering around with Caitlyn looking for various people you pause as you reach a quieter part of the galla. Someplace more in the back. Tilting your head in front of a painting with a blue haired girl your eyes trace her face. Caitlyn was usually pretty stiff during her job but she puts her arm on your shoulder leaning on you in a rare moment of loosening up. With no one around to witness this you feel more open then you had in awhile. Short blue hair that frizzed at the end and had odd knick knacks woven and tied into it.

"She's pretty." She says softly and you nod wrist shifting to bubble your second glass of champagne. The liquid swirls as you do the repetitive motion and Caitlyn frowns concerned as she studies your action and face.

"I've been calling her Sapphire." You say suddenly, your eyes flicking up to stare at the faceless girl with blue hair.

"Cause of her hair?" Caitlyn questions and for a second you get a flash of sapphire eyes staring up at you as you braid choppy hair. Laughter ringing lightly in your ears as a girl with pink hair sits close by. She's smiling as you giggle tying trinkets into messy blue locks, giving the girl little braids. Three boys sit in the room observing but not interrupting as they do their own things. A smaller one occasionally handing you little knick knacks that'll sparkle in her hair.

"Yeah something like that." Taking a sip of your drink you frown as it goes down rough and not smooth like the other sips. "Hey you saw Marcus with those people right?" You suddenly question feeling like you knew them from somewhere despite not recognizing their faces. The woman in purple especially catching your attention.

"Marcus is here? He wasn't supposed to come tonight. I guess he made time for you." Caitlyn hummed surprised before she turned towards you. "I know my boss can be suspicious but tonight is about you. Your father wants you to be happy and unlike my parents he really tries. Let's just get through tonight since we already committed before we're back to the red string and endless questions." She suggests and you nod slowly but that feeling in your gut doesn't disappear. As much as you tried to dispel it, it kept creeping in the back of your mind.

As Caitlyn goes to lead you away you pause as a familiar face greets you.

"Your art has come so far. I marvel at your talent and envy all your fans." Mel teases. Caitlyn bows her head in respect and you nod at her. The girl swallows but nods pointing to where she'll be waiting as you chat privately with Mel.

Smiling at the Council woman looking at the work she's observing you hum seeing a large canvas you'd done of her and the Council at a meeting your father had asked you to attend. It was one people had flocked too all night you observed from the bidding stickers but it was just you and Mel looking at it now.

"Mel it's been awhile. We should schedule a painting session together. I miss those." You respond smiling warmly as you settle next to her.

"Yes, well life has been busy as I'm sure your father's told you." Swirling your glass of champagne faster you hum frowning softly. Staring at your reflection in the golden liquid you look back up at the painting. He hadn't. Not lately.

He wanted you away from his work. From him. You and Caitlyn knew something was wrong but as two high Noble society children your concerns were often brushed off and not taken seriously. You were close to something big and yet…

"Dads been quiet about work. You know after all I've worked for and all he's prepared me for he wants me to switch careers. Caitlyn and I may have passed the physical and mental exams with flying colors but he... worries." You murmur quietly as you fidget with your glass. "Caitlin's dad supports her but my dad... he'd prefer I chose to continue my law studies. Or change my schooling altogether and focus on something else." You state solemnly. As much as you loved your father you felt it was unfair. Like there was something bigger that he and everyone else was hiding from you.

"Hextech?" She asks surprised bringing you out of your sprailing thoughts. Smiling at the name Jayce gave his invention, that explosion that kick started everything felt like it happened yesterday. It felt like you were found on the bridge yesterday.

"More medical field I believe but I think he'll take anything other than Enforcer at this point. Even regular old painter." You remark as you observe the details of the meeting you'd chosen to paint.

"And that bothers you?" Mel asks. Tilting your head you squint at the details of the picture in front of you. Such a different piece than your other ones which were blurry and indistinct. And yet everyone kept hovering to this one. Easier to understand and more straight forward you supposed. Something from your new life and not your old. They always seemed to prefer that.

"... Mel is something going on I should be worried about? Some kind of civil unrest? The undercity. I've heard rumors and my dads making excuses for me not to go to any of the prisons or my charity anymore. I have friends there. People I'm trying to help. I need to know the truth. You need to tell me the truth." You state.

The woman remains quiet for a moment. Her brown eyes seem to search for the right words as she sips at her drink slowly. A red wine that seemed too much like blood to you. "Perhaps focusing on work outside your father's would be good. He worries about you. We all do. With your..." She hesitates before waving her hand dismissively trying to change the subject.

"My spells?" You demand and her brows furrow as she glances at you. The silence is all you need for confirmation. Sighing you look away from the Council Meeting and towards a different picture. A silhouette of a man with a halo around his head. You see that blue green color again. You can hear a chuckle. Mel's touch brings you back as she squeezes your shoulder.

"... I've said too much. Please be kind to him. Your father loves you much more than you know. You're very lucky to have him. You know," Mel hesitates, something you've rarely seen her do. As she looks at your painting and you stare into your glass a wistful look crosses her face. "My past is tricky when it comes to family and relationships." She admits in a rare moment of sincerity, no politics, no deals. Just the truth.

Or perhaps it's manipulation. You can never tell with Mel, you do your best not to dwell. You like to think your relationship and mentorship with her is genuine, but in a place like Piltover… you never know.

Nodding you look away from your least favorite piece onto other things. Your eyes stop on a more symbolic painting, an older one. It was crudely done as you hadn't cleaned the edges or made the details fine. Fangs and claws and fur. Oh to be the fox and wolf as Mel often told you.

"... Mingle?" You question and her eyes light up like the fox in your painting sensing your planning something.

"You don't usually enjoy networking." She observes watching you carefully and you shrug before finishing your flute of Champagne in one final swig.

"Feels like a night to try something new." You state waving down a waiter to take your glass so you could grab another.

…

With Mel by your side you'd avaded Caitlyn and most of the Enforcers walking around the party. While you loved having her around having her around as an Enforcer was much harder than having her around as your friend. While you'd tried to stay calm the whole night and not make it into a conspiracy your suspicion grew every time you saw Marcus from the corner of your eye with that group of people. As you inched your way closer throughout the night you glanced around. No one was watching you…

Slipping away from Mel while she was distracted with a council member you kept your head high as you walked with purpose. As you get closer to the odd group, your focus goes to one of the people Marcus is talking to. Your eyes catching on her arm and how it's covered by a pretty velvet cape.

"No you can't talk to them-" Marcus insists, not yet noticing you as you got closer. The lights on this side of the room were dimmer as there were less art pieces. It made your curiosity burn brighter as you wondered what Marcus and this strange clinte were talking about. If they were clinte at all.

"Why are they painting him? Who are they? He's mad Marcus! He wants some serious answers." The woman snaps back angrily. Coming closer and getting more questions than answers the woman notices you staring and shifts to better cover her arm. Her friends stiffen at your presence and adjust their suits and dresses which you notice are more worn than anyone else in the room.

"They're nobody. It's a side hobby, just a thing they sometimes do-" Marcus states and you tilt your head unsure if you should be insulted or not. Was he protecting you from something? From someone?

"Marcus?" You question finally catching his attention as you take in his new friends. He immediately goes pale hearing you call his name and turns to face you. As the woman smirked you could see him getting stressed like you weren't supposed to be here. Squinting you hum as you observe the chief, what was he up to?

"(Y/N)! Why aren't you with Caitlyn?" Marcus demands and you step back at the tone of his voice. The intensity of his question. As the group continues to stare you begin to piece together that they're from the Undercity or at least a lower class section of Piltover.

"She's talking to Jayce. Marcus I need-" You start but he ignores you. Unlike his playful disposition earlier he was being much colder now. As you swallowed something about this whole situation didn't settle right with you. This clearly had nothing to do with your galla.

"I'm sorry this is a private discussion I need you to-" Marcus starts in a much kinder tone trying to direct you away but the woman ignores him. Stepping in front of him to get to you Marcus glares, his fists balling at his sides. She tilts her head observing you before she smirks. Maroon lipstick catching the limited light.

"(Y/N) Right?" The woman was tall, elegant, and walked with authority. Several scars of different sizes littered her face and shoulders. Taking in her physique she seemed like she'd had a harder life. A laborer perhaps?

Her purple slit dress with the black velvet coat stood out amongst the other dresses tonight and you found yourself intrigued. Almost pulled in by her. As you studied each other you could see Marcus gritting his teeth. Knowing you'd walked into a possibly dangerous situation you smiled feigning ignorance.

"Yes, that's my name. I guess you could say this is my Galla." Acting shy at the attention you reach up to fiddle with your jewelry and hair. Something about this woman seemed familiar. Maybe it was her voice or maybe it was her face but you had this odd itch in the back of your brain. Like when you were painting right after a flash.

"I'm Sevika." She introduces before holding out her left hand. Confused, you peaked under her cloak to look at her right only for her to take a step back hiding her arm behind herself. Shaking the left trying not to be bothered by it or ask any questions that could get you in trouble you smiled at her.

"Are you interested in this one?" You hum tilting your head towards the canvas as you try to subtly change the conversation. "I don't know if you know this because I haven't seen you at any of my shows before but my paintings are all for charity." You explain with a smile. "All funds go back to the community. As someone so fortunate I try to give back to those more in need then myself." Sevika paused for a moment before her hand wrapped tightly around yours, her grip firm but not crushing like you'd first expected.

"... I'll keep that in mind." She hums softly. "My boss, he's interested in this one." She explains before letting go and gesturing to the painting they'd been talking In Front of for the past few hours.

"Oh your boss? What do you do?" You ask curiously. It was always the same faces at these Gallas, Sevika didn't seem like an average socialite. She screamed adventure but also safety. You feel like you knew her and that wasn't something you felt often when it came to new faces. While there was a danger with interacting with her that you could sense, she knew more than she let on.

"We work in…" Glancing at Marcus amused she focused back on you, eyes seeming to study your every move. It reminded you of an Enforcer or someone running from one. "Exports." She explains and you nod slowly, not sure if you believe her or not. Looking at the painting when she does you suddenly freeze, familiar blue eyes greeting you.

"My dad wasn't supposed to grab this one." You murmur as you step forward. It was one of your favorites hidden behind a sheet so he wouldn't see, one of the only full faces from your past you'd ever been able to complete. You were working on some fine detailing and had moved it from the safety of your room to the studio. It was a bit fuzzy on the edges still and some of the detailing was blurry because you couldn't seem to decide on things like sharp or round features, smooth or bumpy skin but it was an important piece to you.

"Oh?" Sevika questions and you frown looking at the bid at the bottom. "My boss, he'll pay a small fortune for it. Guaranteed." Sevika swears and you turn towards her.

"They said it wasn't for sale. Can we continue-" Marcus tries to regain control of the conversation but Sevika seemed more interested in you than him. The people also focused on you suddenly ignoring Marcus' presence. She stepped closer leaning in to observe your face. As their eyes focused on yours, really taking you in you noticed the sudden way she stiffened. Like she was seeing a ghost.

"Think of all the people in the UnderCity it could help, that is what you're doing isn't it? Your charity?" Quirking a brow at her surprised, you turn your head suddenly. The intensity of her stare suddenly making you uncomfortable.

"I don't like to announce it because I get less sales which means I can help less but yes… That's true." You admit quietly. Did Marcus tell them that? How did they figure it out? The longer you stayed in this corner the more questions you had.

"So a small fortune to help others is surely worth this painting?" Pausing you think of the deal, of what you would be giving away. Reaching your hand out you tap the bottom of the canvas, tracing the intricate picture frame. Was this some sort of psychological test from your father? Did this even have anything to do with you or were you misinterpreting the entire situation?

Focusing on the painting to remain calm, the ravenette man with blue eyes and sharp features made you feel at ease. Swallowing you hum. You wanted to know more about this woman, about the group with her, and her relationship with Marcus.

"And this bosses name? I'd love to meet the man giving so much to my charity." You offer watching Sevikas' body language closely.

"He doesn't do names." She responds quickly and you nod.

"A picture then?" You question. "It's customary for all customers to take a picture with the piece they're buying." Before she can say no like you assume she will, you grab her hand in another firm handshake and smile wide as a flash fills the dark space. As Sevika blinks in surprise and her friends slink into the shadows you take your chance to leave back to the main party. As the photographer walks away you do the same disappearing into the crowd with stolen film in your hand.

While you had a lot of questions you're sure they could wait until that photo was printed. You think you just found another piece of the puzzle.

...

Taglist: @pinkninja200 @shadow-pancake9 @athenapspspsps @mercenarystrike @strawbebe-dk @joscelyn02 @wanna-plan-world-domination @meep-moop-mystic @ebony-wolf @shadow-pancake9 @zeros-rot @beasalmeh @ihatemylifeuwu @domoron @ackermanbitch @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression

#silcos enforcer child series #silcos enforcer child #enforcer child #arcane lol marcus #arcane marcus #platonic marcus #platonic sevika #chief of police father #father silco #arcane x reader #arcane x y/n #arcane lol x reader #lol arcane x reader #lol x reader #platonic arcane #silco x reader

[tiny-elf-of-doom]

Silco Was a Maniac, Too

Arcane Headcanons

Character: Young! Silco

- Growing up in the Undercity, Silco was clearly a feral child roaming the streets, doing dangerous things, just as other Zaunite children would. However, as he got older, he got closer to a group of young adults living in the nation that wanted independence, and they encouraged his wild nature come alive. Since he encourages Jinx’s destruction behavior in the Arcane series, wouldn’t this be an interesting point to make: he was once as destructive and weapon obsessed as she was? 

- Completely headcanon -off my rocker- but think about it. Vander had fists of steel (cast irons), if Benzo was with them, I’d assume he was a bit like Cloggor and tech-minded for the time, Sevika was all bronze in her fists and blade work, but Silco had this itch for guns. He was the sharp shooter and the Pyromaniac of the Undercity before he mellowed out. He’s displayed explosive behavior in the show by beating the shit out of his skrunklies when the tower fell and the tea party sequence when he’d lost his shit trying to shoot Vi. 

- He looks scrawny, but he can carry the weight of a revolving cannon at his hip. Before his eye got all fucked up, he was probably the best sniper in Zaun. If his aim was that good, it’s no wonder Vander went for his eye, specifically. It would have been one of his greatest assets, so destroying it would have made shooting a gun so much more difficult, taking away his pride. 

- Silco wearing a belt full of knives, explosives, and unique inventions that worked their charm during missions is such a satisfying image. The crazed look of excitement when he got the chance to detonate a bomb on a gaggle of enforcers- fierce. He understands chaos so well that it becomes a daily occurance for him, giving Silco a reason to keep going- shoot to kill. 

-I’m sure there were times he felt he had gone too far, hating himself for ruining parts of Zaun with his bursts of trigger happy mania, but he’s learned to understand and accept the regrets. Jinx felt bad when things didn’t go smoothly, killing various Firelights and destroying her surroundings on a mission. However Silco was upset with Sevika because she had never been organized enough to handle Silco’s own chaos, so it’s clear she couldn’t control Jinx very well. Was Silco mad at his daughter? Nope. He knew what went through her head as he had been there, too.  

-This is what I’d imagine he’d carry: His canon, of course, with the steampunk design and personalized handle. Secondly, the sniper rifle that can shoot up to 1,200 meters, and this little spider-bomb that can get into crevices without startling people in buildings. (Credit to artists as they were hard to find).

If you want more Young! Silco headcanons, please let me know because I have so many, it’s uncanny. 

#Arcane #arcane silco #arcane headcanon #weapons #young silco #headcanon #fanfiction idea #i think so #guns #explosive #mania #chaos

[philologer-mosaic]

So I rewatched the first episode of Arcane and now I have Thoughts

...especially about the opening. For starters: -- Those were enforcers attacking people -- That was the bridge that all the border-control confrontations go down on, later in the series. [Sidenote: I've also been trying to generate ideas about the geography of this setting, even though I have very little sense of place and wasn't especially paying attention to location on my first watch. "Twin cities of Piltover and Zaun" is one thing, but when it emerges as we go on that the Nation of Zaun isn't even legally recognised as a Thing yet in Piltover's eyes... Well, there's the bridge, but also a lot of it is underground? Vi and the gang reach the underground parts via a lift from what's obviously the bad part of town -- maybe those areas count as "the Lanes", or at least are considered part of the undercity by act 2-3, and the bridge is between those parts? Wrong side of the river, instead of the tracks. The richest parts of Piltover are up on a hill, because of course they are. Maybe it all counts as "under" to them, whether or not it's underground.] So anyway, we can draw some conclusions from that, about what happened to Vi and Powder's parents. Especially when you add in that song that Powder is singing. "Dear Friend across the river..." In her voice in that context it becomes World's Creepiest Demon-Child Lullaby, of course. But the way it's /obviously/ about Piltover and Zaun makes me think that in a different voice it'd be a protest folk song using a layer of obvious metaphor, kind of in the vein of "Jeff found a Genie". [Why yes, I am linking that partly just as an excuse to share it.] Did Powder hear it at the protests that her parents went to? Were they singing it at the barricades, even when everything went wrong and the enforcers came in with gas and weapons? [It's obviously Jinx's flashback, too. (The scribbly faces on the enforcers.) Or maybe it's Powder's, since we are in act 1 still. I guess the trauma did start early!] The other interesting thing I noticed this time round is: Vander drops his brass knuckles. Specifically, when he finds and takes in Vi and Powder. Pretty clear symbolic rejection of violence. Choice to protect and enforce peace instead. Makes sense, we know that's what happens. But it's interesting to me because from episode 3 I'd assumed Vander's pacifism comes from a reaction to what happened with Silco. That he ended up (he thought) killing the man who was like a brother to him to stop him committing atrocities, and afterwards swore off violence and concluded the only thing to do was coexist with Piltover in approximate peace. But evidently there's more to the story than that. I think he does /mention/ "your parents" in episode 3 too, actually, I'll have to see when I get there in the rewatch. Maybe he tried peaceful protest after Silco was gone. Maybe he was even still willing to fight -- I can't see him leading a fight, but charging in to protect others when the enforcers started it, sure. I kind of suspect he wasn't in charge of this one, actually. (People wouldn't look up to him so much later on if his stance on Piltover was a sudden U-turn from what they knew he'd done previously. Not to mention his past confrontation with Silco would definitely also have affected him.) He might not have been very much involved in whatever it was that led to that scene on the bridge. But involved enough to know the sisters' parents, and involved enough to jump in fighting in people's defence once things broke down into fighting -- for all the good it did. The enforcers win. Who knows how many of Vander's friends die there, but two of them left a pair of orphans behind, with no one to look after them except Vander -- and that's when he throws his weapons down for good. He's seen what challenging Piltover does. Myself after Silco he still thought there was a less extreme way to win change, or maybe he just didn't say no when other people were arguing for it... but he's seen what that earned, so he's decided now that there's no point trying. He's resigned to the inequality now. The best he can do (he thinks) is to get Piltover to leave them alone. So he cuts a deal to that effect with the enforcers. And for his part of it, he keeps the people of the undercity out of Piltover -- or at least, the parts of Piltover that the people in power care about. Technically, at this point, after all, it's all Piltover. There's definitely the implication that Vi and the gang have been stealing from people who /don't/ have much to go round, with Vander's approval or at least acceptance, before their raid on Jayce's workshop. Vander, I assume, sees it as better than the alternative.

#arcane #arcane spoilers #arcane meta #vander #vi #powder #jinx #my thoughts

[guiltycorp]

Thinking about how back when Get Jinxed was released I briefly became interested enough to at least read up a little on the lore, and how I was completely disinterested in Vi back then because she felt like a class traitor and a classic ‘hot-headed cop’ character and not much else.  And Jinx seemed like a practically harmless ‘crazy fun’ type of character, making it that much easier to root for her.  Just a charismatic outlaw taunting a duo of good&bad cops (Caitlyn and Vi), right?  But Arcane turned everything up on its head for me personally!  It’s such a relief that it ended where it did, because I really do not want to see Arcane!Vi become an Enforcer for Piltover :(   Especially so because Arcane solidified Jinx’s character as an actual threat to people’s lives, a violent person without any benevolent motivations. Soooo if Vi became an actual cop under Piltover’s government it would seem like the story explicitly says that Zaun = bad and Piltover = good, seeing as how the two sisters are the core of that specific story and Jinx is the drive behind a lot of misery in the show. Good on them to avoid that! I mean, there’re certain shades of this in the lore anyway, but the series largely goes for moral ambiguity, painting most Piltover characters as deeply flawed and privileged individuals, delving into Undercity’s issues with a certain amount of nuance. Plus Vi, Ekko and Viktor are all presented as morally good characters with the intentions of helping people (if anything I wish we had more time dedicated to Ekko’s accomplishments and the process of building his safe haven in Zaun).    If we keep league’s lore in mind, Viktor’s eventual transformation into a cyborg and him suggesting to fix humanity’s problems by turning people into machines does make sense, sure - a bit tragic, but nevertheless more humane than say, Singed’s alternative path. And as far as i know Ekko remains true to himself, too.  But Vi deciding to become a cop under Caitlyn, the new sheriff? ehhh Let’s see, she put the whole Undercity at risk by trespassing into Piltover and burglarizing property under the protection of a prominent noble house who has a seat at the Council - easily forgiven because she was still a child, but nevertheless a notable start to her character arc.  We learn that she spent her entire adolescence in prison, she then gets out with the aim of finding her sister and getting vengeance against Silco and talks a lot about how much things suck and how she wishes it was different, about fixing it, seems like a natural progression for her to take up Vander’s mantle, join Ekko and actually do something for her city. But nope, after she incites Jayce to take out Silco’s supply of shimmer and beats Sevika her plans get cut short and Arcane ends before Vi is able to do anything substantial (her failure to talk Jinx down not really her fault after all). And that’s good, because at this point in the narrative her going to Piltover would look... well, rather pathetic? Deciding to go where the grass is greener, essentially working against the city she failed to defend. Could be explained as some form of repentance bc of Council’s destruction, could be that becoming an enforcer would be the only way for her to have the opportunity to police Zaun’s streets without encountering problems from Piltover itself, but it’s still a bad look for a girl whose parents were literally murdered by enforcers during a violent protest and who then repeatedly fell short of helping anyone. Even the pairing of Caitlyn/Vi when it’s like, a duo of lesbian cops who work for the benefit of the richer half of their society, just seems ehh to me...  Am I wrong? I haven’t really seen people talk about this but then again I’ve never been too deep into LoL.    

#arcane #vi #arcane spoilers #text #venting i guess

[marinerofthestars]

screaming into the void about arcane ep 4

so i watched arcane act i when it first came out, was utterly wrecked by it, and proceeded to not watch it for almost a month due to being busy dealing with irl stuff. unfortunately for everyone, i now have an actual tv and time to kill, so now i’m just gonna be screaming about it into the void i guess

Part of me is glad that there wasn’t a “Previously On Arcane” bit, because I don’t know if I could handle Ep 3’s ending again

Well Ms. Kiramman turned her act around quickly once Jayce proved to be useful

The lighting

The cinematography

Damn that’s a cool character intro

To quote that one horrible post abt Vander, the voice masking for the Firelight boss “makes my coochie quiver”

Wait why is there a trap door? It’s not like being locked below decks is a particularly awful fate

…Never mind

VI???

Jesus Viktor, are you doing okay?

Atlas Gauntlets! Wait a sec, does that have any cultural meaning given that Runeterra has totally different mythology from our world?

Ah yes, the mining colonies, whom you’re presumably working to the bone to enrich your elites

Is this supposed to be a precursor to Viktor’s shoulder arm laser thingy?

Oh you are so full of shit mr cop man

Nice to see Caitlyn actually trying to be reasonable with tattoo guy, but “good” cops are still cops, and as such uphold an oppressive system through their complicity – Enforcers, but really the same principle applies

BASTARD

STINKY BASTARD COP NOW HAS A MOUSTACHE AND A PROMOTION

FUCK THIS GUY

Well that’s probably a prison shaped human rights violation (though are they the same thing?)

UNDERCITY GO BRRRRRR

Is it bad that I want a PROJECT animated series by Fortiche now? Yes it would probably have iffy politics and bad takes on body modification, but god damn would it look good

oh damn The Last Drop’s changed

And where before the bartender was its soul, now they’re mass pouring drinks, like an assembly line with them as a robot – truly, a more apt and definitely not forced metaphor for industrialization could not exist

Powder be sitting in the rafters, just vibing

That camera cut is…not reassuring

Looks like Powder’s starting to show the first signs of Jinx’s trademark instability

damn they didn’t cut away from that injection, I was expecting them to but then again they also didn’t make it as visceral as I thought it would have been with no cutaway

on the one hand nice to see Silco being supportive of his daughter’s interests, on the other hand this is going to press her trauma button re: being put on the sidelines by the person she looks up to isn’t it

“these people have nothing new to offer me,” she said, gripping her goblet as the bourgeoisie grips the livelihood of the working class

Mel trying to get her hooks in Jayce, and showing a bit of a threatening side in the process

Oh Powder

Oh Powder baby

jebus christ ghost mylo

Powder This is not a healthy coping mechanism

wow sure hope this newfound fame doesn’t go to Jayce’s head

oof that silence made me uncomfortable

and here we see the first signs of Viktor and Jayce’s diverging goals

“honest laborer from the underground” ah yes, the underground, which you have never been to and which will likely only suffer further from being exploited as cheap manufacturing

Guys I know you’re cops but give Cait a break, she doesn’t like special treatment any more than you do

On the one hand good on you for actually trying to help out Caitlyn and save people

On the other hand what child talks like that, this is so obviously a trap that dangling a turkey on a string would be more subtle

Wow a councilor…actually giving a shit about the Underground?

And now the language shifts to “are the poor a threat to us”

Wow Jayce keeping Viktor out of the conversation, I sure hope this doesn’t result in disastrous consequences down the line

Ah yes income, the most valuable thing of all /s

Mel if you wanna do a genocide just say you wanna do a genocide

Okay actually no genocide

BOMBS AND BULLETS WILL DO THE TRIIIIICK

Shake that head! Listen to that music! Ignore the consequences of those irresponsible decisions, much as I am doing by writing this commentary at 11 PM! (a/n: i wrote this last night)

well that’s certainly a cavalier attitude to murder (even if they were cops)

Cait the single big bad guy isn’t in the undercity, it’s called capitalism and you help it – undercity is just responding how you’d expect a society you deprive of opportunities and drain the resources of to react

Jayce please tell me you’re not going to profess your long-held love for Caitlyn here

good on you girl! assert those ambitions

Is that a shiv? someone of Silco’s trying to keep tattoo guy from talking by way of early grave?

oh warden is…sorta understanding? Also tattoo guy isn’t dead

OH DAMN SO IT WASN’T VI

ALSO DAMN THOSE TATS

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #violet league of legends #vi league of legends #powder arcane #arcane jinx #silco arcane #mel medarda #jayce talis #jayce arcane #jayce league of legends #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn league of legends #caitlyn arcane #mariner reacts #mariner screams about arcane #arcane spoilers #tw genocide

[irarelypostanything]

"Arcane" Pitch Meeting (ScreenRant Rip-Off)

*Spoilers*

Producer: So I understand you have a new TV series for me

Writer: Yes, sir, I do. It's called "Arcane," and it's a prequel to "League of Legends"

Producer: Right, this is going to get people thrilled about the video game. Before we begin, how much money were you thinking this would cost us?

Writer: Oh, I was thinking maybe 100-

Producer: Million? You're asking for 100 million?

Writer: I suppose $100 million would be...acceptable. Might be a little difficult, but I'll see what we can whip up

Producer: Sorry, the Riot Games budget has been kind of tight these days

Writer: I was thinking we'll need a theme song by Imagine Dragons

Producer: Naturally

Writer: ...an outro song by Sting, a full cast of A-list actors, and access to the Fortiche animation team with all the money they want from us

Producer: Granted. But what is the actual story?

Writer: I was thinking we'd focus on Vi and Jinx. I always had a backstory in mind for them when we first wrote them into the game

Producer: Great! So a fun little popcorn thriller about a superhero origin story?

Writer: ...No

Producer: A child-friendly merchandising scheme similar to the Lego Movie?

Writer: Every time there's a cool action scene, a child will get murdered to remind us that we should be ashamed of ourselves for celebrating violence without realizing the ramifications of war

Producer: Oh

Writer: We're going to start with Jinx, only she's an innocent little girl whose parents have been killed and who has serious abandonment issues. In spite of this, she shows no obvious signs of psychological disorders

Producer: Uh-oh

Writer: Yeah, and we're just kind of going to explain how she got the way she is.

Producer: Does she fall into toxic water?

Writer: Yeah, but that's not really the gist of it. Basically, she accidentally kills her own friends and has the tormented images of their corpses etched into her memory

Producer: Oh my god, what is this show?

Writer: She'll kind of get adopted by this guy named Silco, and his deal is he's this drug lord who distributed something called Shimmer, which is a little bit like cocaine and steroids but a lot more terrifying

Producer: I don't know how I feel about this

Writer: You'll love it, even though half of the people you care about will die. There are these two conflicted sides of a city - one is relatively wealthy, and one is completely poor and disgusting and drug-infested. Silco rules the "underside," and Vi gets picked up by an "enforcer" from the surface side before a time skip

Producer: So it's kind of like a battle between surface and underside? Jinx is like the champion criminal, and Vi gets adopted into this kind of police family?

Writer: No, Vi spends ten years in prison

Producer: Oh, she does?

writer: Yeah, and even after all that time she still goes after her sister, to save her, but her sister has been traumatized by years of extreme violence and inner conflict. Silco is going to reveal that he always cared about Jinx, which is going to be really sad when she instinctually kills him and then passes the point of no return in her transformation. So what do you think?

Producer: Can we tone down some of the violence?

Writer: No

Producer: Can we have a cute Teemo cameo?

Writer: No

Producer: Can we change the climactic moment so that Silco is a little more of a stereotypical villain, and we don't feel emotionally devastated by his death?

Writer: No

Producer: Will the show be good?

Writer: Yes

Producer: All right. I hope you at least don't end on some cliffhanger that likely kills everyone's favorite character

Writer: No promises

#arcane