Part 2 Of My Moses!viktor Au - Part 1 Here

zaundad’s au where vander is taken by the enforcers after turning himself in for the explosion.

something about miscommunication and saving violet from turning herself in.

after the fact, vander’s territory is crumbling and benzo is holding water in his hands trying to pick up the pieces. silco hears and quickly catches on that maybe vander had a point in what he was doing. because at least his betrayal of cahooting with grayson was buying them time. and now zaun is dividing itself into shards of shattered pottery. and every thing is going to shit because there’s no one keeping all the ducks in a row.

and silco doesn’t really forgive vander, but after getting a tip about how he’s fighting for his life in stillwater, it makes him get a little crazy and protective. so much so that he actually finds himself considering forgiving the bastard. which ensues a ton of loathing and journal worthy emotions as he plans to save his stupid fucking soulmate that he literally hates with every bone in his body.

but he has violet knocking at his door just when he’s about to make the decision to either leave the hound to the wolves, or take vander’s place himself. and she’s so much wiser than her years, and she’s so blunt and courageous, that it reminds him of the way vander would protect them in the mines and during protests. using his brute strength and tuff demeanor to steer away danger. how he would shield them and barter their way through problems.

here was this young girl trying to act ten times her size and fill the same hole the silco himself had been trying so hard to fill. she was so angry that vander had chosen her over everything, and THAT made silco stop for a while. it made him almost jealous.

because vander has chosen everything over him. vander had chosen to act on his violence and guilt and he’d chosen felicia and piltover and the kids over silco.

so, anyway, just silco being pulled in two opposite directions as he tries to save vander from deteriorating in prison for protecting his daughter.

part three of this - moses!viktor au - part 1 - part 2

prepare for a BIG time jump from the other two (lol). i’m still contemplating a title. leaning towards “Bitter Water Made Sweet” though. feel free to leave a suggestion! :)

The streets of The Lanes smelled of tar and sulfur dioxide. Viktor’s staff made fragmented sparks erupt each time it hit the cobble of the empty street.

It was very early morning. But, not early enough to stop the three or so families and four or so dwellers from peeking out their windows and doors to watch him as he slowly waded through the slightly flooded road. The saturated bottom hem of his viridian cloak stuck to his ankles with each new step.

He caught the eye of a little girl, her hair the color of the small gophers that he’d occasionally catch building by the river. Her eyes were bright like wheat in the sunlight. She stood all alone. He paused.

She smiled, and she sprung to life under his pointed attention, sprinting as fast as her short legs could carry her. Her hands clenched around fistfuls of the cotton fabric draped over his shoulders. She did not speak.

“What is your name?” he asked her, holding out a hand.

She stared at his palm and wrist, taking in the lapis lazuli, mauve, and gold that spun through his veins and tendons. Her mouth opened in awe, delicately taking his hand in order to inspect it further. She was mystified, and just for a moment, all his panicked worries melted away. She giggled, looking back up to meet his fond gaze.

“Isha.” The name had appeared his head with such a sudden intensity, that he was not surprised in the least when she nodded in amazement. He bent down, using his staff to balance his weight. “Do you believe in the land of milk and honey?”Isha’s chopped hair flipped up and down like flimsy spikes as she nodded. She nearly buzzed with energy. Like a battery in an engine. Or a wind up toy. He hummed, nodding as well. “Very well, follow me.”

She hid inside of his cloak, hiding herself from the sprinkling raindrops. She shivered, her bare arms full of goosebumps.

His smile faltered, and they continued on with her glued to his hip. Her hand stuck to his own, occasionally tugging the limb up to her eyes to further admire the shimmering details of magic through his skin.

It was easy to tell that she was an orphan. Especially under his own scrutiny. She was thinner than the other children, and unkempt in a way no Zaunite mother would have allowed. Her hair was slightly grown out and braided. But, the plaits were frizzy and loose from passing time. She wore patchy pants and a fraying shirt barely holding onto its seems.

When they arrived to the boarded up bar, Isha made a short noise of protest, tugging on his tunic. It draped to his calves, an ivory white like bare bone. Her fingerprints left dark spots from the soot. He ruffled her hair, the texture like straw from the dust of Zaun’s alleyways.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked her. She looked apprehensive, but she did not leave his side. Her loyalty was strong. Her curiosity even stronger.

The dark clouds hiding what lay beyond the doors only grew darker when they drew nearer. They resembled storm clouds, and one would almost believe that they’d send out bolts of lightening if you drew too close. Mel was distressed.

He bowed for Isha to go ahead of him, his fingertips innocently brushing the dense mist. It was pleasantly toasty, a comfort away from the freezing temperature outside.

Isha steeled herself, sending her shoulders back in stern determination that brought amusement to his own chest. She stomped her way right through the splintering arch of the doorway.

He took one final glance at the sign still hung on its lonely chain, and found himself mildly surprised at the symbol painted in glinting silver over where a business title would be.

A silvery serpent twisted in a vertical, curvy zig-zag pattern, hissing at the onlooker. He also took note, upon further inspection, that there were wings on either side, meager but strong in the way they curled. Its eyes shun green when he looked away, humming in pleasure at the familiar embrace of Mel’s magic gracing his skin.

He supposed he should have been offended at the lack of confusion she confronted him with. Instead, he joined her in the center of the room, sliding down to the blood red carpet she sat on.

Her dress was modest, no patterns or showy cuts. But, it was a deep amber. If he were vain, he’d say it was the color of his eyes. But, he didn’t have to admit vanity to believe that she looked radiant. Her knuckles showcased pink scars that matched his own, etched symbols of an ancient language.

Isha had dramatically fallen into the mountain of pillows that Mel and Viktor used as a resting spot when exhaustion finally grew too intense to bare. Or, the despair.

Her hand linked with his own, “Any news?”

“He is in Piltover.” He did not address Mel’s crestfallen expression at such a statement. And he stated the rest even though he knew he didn’t have to. “He seems to think that you are behind the Black Rose’s schemes. He doesn’t act like himself.”

He stood back up, dragging himself away from her waves of emotion. She was angry, something that tended to soak into his own skin and burn.

He unclasped the iron wings over his jugular notch. His fingers shook slightly as he bent down and draped the dry side of the cloth over the child. She was almost asleep, her eyes already closed and face smoothed out by the time he was standing straight again.

“We need to intervene.” Mel beckoned him back, holding a hand out for him to take. He obeyed, being careful of his askew leg as he joined her once again.

As they sat in considering silence, he wished to make a spot for himself in the cushions as well. His body did not feel the urge to rest, but his heart pulled him in too many directions at once, and he felt it most prominent in this turmoil.

“It will be necessary,” he admitted, “His influence is beginning to strain the faith of the Trenches as well.”

Mel’s lips twisted in a grimace, “Perhaps he was always too weak.” Viktor surveyed her in quiet, his own lips pursed in slow comprehension. “We should continue on without him. I will sever the connection entirely.” She sat straighter, not once glancing up to acknowledge any of Viktor’s shock or disbelief. He took her other hands back as she closed her eyes in order to focus. They flew open.

The pads of his thumbs flattened out the strain of her clenched fists. He sighed at the same time she did.

“Have mercy on him. He does not know better.”

“We trusted better from him,” she argued.

He battled with himself. The faith that had been mentioned previously, the belief they had gained from most of Zaun, was torturing him. Because he was selfish. He was not simply loyal to the cause anymore. It all boiled down to his Mel and his Jayce. The world be damned. The Black Rose be damned. He would rather burn at the stake, or rot in the basement of Stillwater, or drown in the Goddamned Pilt, than give up on either of them.

“He is just a man. A man who acts on instinct, no matter how flawed it might be. He deserves another chance. He has never let us down before.”

He’d grovel at Mel’s feet to give Jayce a second chance. He’d plea and debate until he ran out of breath. He’d comfort them both through the betrayal of it. Mourn the unfairness in his own solitude.

She crossed her arms, looking him all over. Her eyes traveled from the curls of gold and copper wire around strands of his overgrown hair to the rusty iron anklets that jingled around his ankles when he moved.

“And why is that?” Her chin was tilted up, her brows furrowed. She looked a little wild. Her hair stuck up around the crown of her head, like static caused during a storm. Her tunic draped off of one shoulder, showing the soft skin of her clavicle. Her stockings had holes from where she had poked holes while stewing in her stress. He realized with a slight start, that he had been away for three days on his trek to Topside.

Her eyes burned like gas that which met flame. She was filled with an abundance of wrath and disappointment towards the third link to their souls. He felt a strange sense of pity.

“You are not strong enough to rush the plan, Anděl.” He caresses her cheek, tucking one of the braids behind her ear when it slipped into her eyes. He noted that he’d have to retouch them.

“The Rose is the least of my worries,” she waved his concern off.

“I would not be so sure of that,” he warned.

“They are cowards using Jayce as a pawn. And he is just as bad while allowing them to.”

“I do not think—“

“—And how does he believe for a second that they could be me? I would not carry on without you Viktor, what makes him think—.”

“—He is under the assumption that we are dead. As far as I could tell, he’s just happy to have someone.” He brought her face closer, nose to nose as the realization dawned on her.

After a long time, she spoke to him in a broken whisper.

“Go to him, Viktor, my presence will be with you.”

i have a craving to write some drabbles :,) i want to write fun little snippets and take a teeny tiny break from grinding out full stories!!!

so, if anyone has any head-cannons, au’s, songs that remind them of anything in the tags, or just little ideas they want to spread, let me know in my asks so i can momentarily satisfy my brain :D

before i jump back into the grind.

thank you 😌 much love 🫶

James knotted the rope as tight as he could. The fraying fibers cut into Peter’s shoulders like twine making a hay bale bulge, but he couldn’t help the urge to check that Harry was still asleep upstairs.

His eye twitched the longer it was trained on Peter’s pale, sweaty face. And his fists clenched tightly around the wands in each hand. He didn’t miss the way grey eyes flickered down to ebony wood. He was scared, James realized with a bit of a start. He was shaking in the chair like a cornered animal.

His sandy hair was choppy, like someone had taken shears to it as a punishment. His face was breaking out, splotches of red like hives throughout his skin. His teeth were yellowing, and his nails were caked in dirt and overgrown.

He began to cry, and James’ curiosity quickly changed to fury.

“What are you weeping about?” he demanded, watching his volume. Peter wailed, only stopping when he bowed his head at James’ pointed wand at his nose.

“I’m sorry!” he stammered through each syllable.

James thought of Snape and Regulus answering vaguely whenever he asked about Peter. Saying he was serving Voldemort from one manor to the next. Staying hidden for the sake of keeping Sirius locked away. He briefly wondered if they’d held back more information to spare him the feeing he had in that moment.

Lily’s face appeared in front of him, the walls of their old home like blurry shadows behind her. He didn’t hear anything when her mouth moved, but he recognized the terror in her eyes. The tears that had fallen as she’d said goodbye.

“How could you do it?” he asked, hollow to Peter’s wide, fretful eyes.

“He made me,” Peter pleaded. The fingers of his left hand wriggled. “He made me vow to serve him until my death.” He shivered, as if the memory he’d conjured up made him weary. James felt like he was back in front of the television. “An unbreakable vow.”

James felt his heart break. It caught him off guard, and he sought to figure how it could have splintered even more. Instead, he stuffed a cloth napkin in Peter’s flapping mouth.

“I hadn’t asked you to do so much,” he waved his wand and watched as thin strings of silvery magic wrapped around Peter like cords of wire. He looked his betrayer in the eye, “Funny how you’ve made everything worse for yourself just on your own.”

He heard light taps above them, signaling his son’s rise.

the “fic” mentioned in the tags

Fuis Moi

Jayce Talis x Viktor - Arcane (League of Legends) - 1 Chapter - 36,806 Words

link’s here

@ali-kaaaay @riotroast @littlemeangreen

zaundad’s au where vander is taken by the enforcers after turning himself in for the explosion.

something about miscommunication and saving violet from turning herself in.

after the fact, vander’s territory is crumbling and benzo is holding water in his hands trying to pick up the pieces. silco hears and quickly catches on that maybe vander had a point in what he was doing. because at least his betrayal of cahooting with grayson was buying them time. and now zaun is dividing itself into shards of shattered pottery. and every thing is going to shit because there’s no one keeping all the ducks in a row.

and silco doesn’t really forgive vander, but after getting a tip about how he’s fighting for his life in stillwater, it makes him get a little crazy and protective. so much so that he actually finds himself considering forgiving the bastard. which ensues a ton of loathing and journal worthy emotions as he plans to save his stupid fucking soulmate that he literally hates with every bone in his body.

but he has violet knocking at his door just when he’s about to make the decision to either leave the hound to the wolves, or take vander’s place himself. and she’s so much wiser than her years, and she’s so blunt and courageous, that it reminds him of the way vander would protect them in the mines and during protests. using his brute strength and tuff demeanor to steer away danger. how he would shield them and barter their way through problems.

here was this young girl trying to act ten times her size and fill the same hole the silco himself had been trying so hard to fill. she was so angry that vander had chosen her over everything, and THAT made silco stop for a while. it made him almost jealous.

because vander has chosen everything over him. vander had chosen to act on his violence and guilt and he’d chosen felicia and piltover and the kids over silco.

so, anyway, just silco being pulled in two opposite directions as he tries to save vander from deteriorating in prison for protecting his daughter.

LINK IS HERE

tags for those of you that wanted a fic:

@missconchshell @lalluviadeanoche @assorted-fans @caraspud @neil-jortson @woefulstar @backseat-serenade-me @stitch-me-not @bicanthropus @evedaser @koffeinkaos @thetallwinchester @thebookgremlin00 @geronimooo @sweet-thoughtsof-insanity @smolavidreader @achaoticreaderslife @wolfeyedwitch @lazuliheightslep @justaz @sammythetoaster @pino-san13 @kidnappedbythefey @pastelcheckereddreams @arthursbubblebutt @merthurotica @captain-ozone @lizarin @i-have-passed-through-fire

there are so many of you!!! if i missed anyone, i’m sorry 😭

has anyone written a merlin au where arthur finds out balinor is merlin’s father, and that’s how he learns of merlin’s magic?

and i mean only arthur knows. merlin and balinor don’t have a clue.

like balinor starts to get through to arthur, telling him how he can still fix the mistakes that have been made. to do so he shares that he had to leave the love of his life in order to protect her and their son. he had to shield them from the dangers that the anti-magic propaganda had created for him. on the run from hunters who either felt entitled to use his power, or set him ablaze in cold blood.

he describes a town much like the one merlin brought him to once. the woman he speaks of falling in love with someone so similar to merlin’s mother that he sees it.

he notices how merlin and balinor laugh the same, ponder with furrowed brows the same, and how they prefer to eat with their hands instead of utensils.

he connects the dots with a flurry of nightmares. he realizes that merlin has magic in his blood and he’s terrified of what might happen if the truth gets out.

and when balinor dies, he yells in horror. not just because an innocent man was dead, but because it doomed merlin unfathomably. the one man he wouldn’t be able to hold back his own tears for.

and he couldn’t stand to break merlin’s heart with the news. so, when he eventually learns of merlin’s magic, he understands a little more what it takes to make someone lie for love.

cause if they have, let me know 🙏

edit: it seems i may write it myself lol

a dabble of a moses!au - based on this post

Viktor wasn't entirely sure if he believed in Janna. Enough debilitating and unfortunate circumstances with zero relief would do that to you, and he was already feeling especially helpless in that moment. But, he considered that the closest thing he'd ever experience to a cosmic deity was probably right in front of him.

"Are you lost?" He titled his head at her, squinting when she startled and the gold that had pulsated between her hands, like a star, dissolved much like water would as it touched fire. She looked like the last type of person to be hiding behind an overgrown patch of cattail. Her hair fell in loose coils along the ground where she sat. Her skin was dark, with peeks of gold under the red shawl and white gown she adorned. More directly, she was the most angelic person Viktor had ever seen.

"I believe I am exactly where I'm meant to be," she responded. She looked him up and down, her dark eyes calculating and confident. She smiled, and although it was comforting, it still made him stand a little straighter. As though he were back in the the city he had once called home, under scrutiny of the council because he had empathy. The devil on his shoulder. The reminder made his shoulders sink.

"Right," he tried to hold back his sarcasm, but he could tell it did not work when she quirked a neatly kempt eyebrow at him. He toed the ground with his holey boot. "You shouldn't be down here, Piltover does not approve of nonconformists."

Her smile relaxed, turning more curved at the edges, "I am more than capable of managing myself, Viktor."

"Well-" The sound died in his throat; hand frozen in the air where he had begun to make a mild sweep of a gesture. She turned back to the stream at his stuttering, splashing her feet in the shallow waters. She giggled into her blood red shawl, the sound slightly muffled. His arm fell back to his side as he squinted at her profile. Her bubbling amusement broke with a sigh, and she did not look at him again as she began to speak.

"I have heard your urge to free your people of the affliction caused by Piltover. I would like to help you. I could assist you and yours, to make this desolate land into one of fresh milk and rich honey." She smiled, as though she could imagine such a paradise with the smell of faint smoke and oil in the air.

"Who are you calling desolate?" He knew he should have been slightly more offended, on behalf of where his loyalties were. But he still took a few steps forward as he attempted to catch a closer glimpse of her face.

"What is that in your hand?" she deflected his rhetorical question.

He glanced down at his cane, unimpressed, "A walking stick."

"Throw it on the ground." She peered at him, smiling slightly devilish. Her magnificence did not dwindle though. Unfortunately for Viktor. Her teeth were perfectly straight, he realized.

"I will not be able to walk without it," he refused, clawing his stare away from her. She hummed, still taking in the expanse of his unsure expression. He sighed, long and suffering, before letting go of the silver knob his body had been leaning on. It didn’t clamor as it usually would have.

He gasped, loud enough for her eyes to flash up at him with invigorated excitement. There was a snake in place of where the wood should have landed in the uneven stone. Black and luminous with yellow eyes like the sun on burning hot days. It hissed at him; it's tongue like a tiny black ribbon as it flicked out. The cold of sinister fear felt like he'd mistakenly fallen into the river a few feet away. He looked away just to ensure that he hadn't.

"Come," she held a pliant hand out to it, not bothered in the slightest when the serpent sped towards the limb and immediately constricted itself firmly around her thin arm. When Viktor had not moved, she looked away from the reflective pattern of its scales to share an expectent tilt to her head. "Come."

"Absolutely not," he nearly tripped over his inverted leg in his haste to put distance between himself and the glimmering eyes of burning coal.

She hummed, petting the smooth head of the creature, "In order to save the Zaunites, I will have requests for you, Viktor. In order for me to believe in your abilities to do what it takes, I must ask you to follow my directions without a doubt holding you back. You must gain my trust."

Viktor was suddenly hesitant to look at her. She stood out against the falling night, glimmering and pure as she all but dangled a notoriously dangerous offer in front of his face. Even so, he was spurred on as he sensed their time coming to a close. Even if she presented herself as a divine entity, her wet feet would eventually grow cold from the vacant sun and freezing waters of the rushing water. Viktor himself ached from the long day he had had, suddenly desperate to sit down.

He limped over to her, unintentionally kicking up gravel as he went. The snake's head piqued at his nearing proximity, curling itself down the woman's arm to her flat hand. It reached for him as he did the same. Its jaw was wide open, opalescent fangs on display. But one daring stare from darkly shadowed eyes made him commit anyway. He stared, attempting to conceal his terror as it snapped its jaw shut and opted to lazily slink up his forearm and bicep.

She smirked, looking him up and down once more, her gaze dragging along his legs, waist, chest, then face. He shivered. He blamed the cold.

"Who are you?" He shivered once more as wet scales slid across the back of his neck.

"I am who I am. And I am your provider."

He gaped at her, "You are a woman I have never met before, and you are handling poisonous vermin with no sign of concern. I have it in my right mind to drag you up to Piltover myself. Before you catch a cold sitting there." He turned away from her, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from raising his voice to the yellow eyes in front of his own as well. He had a feeling that the animal wouldn't hold back as much as their other companion. Its tongue hit his nose before encircling around his pale neck.

"You may call me Mel, if you insist on belittling my endeavor so soon." He spun around, slightly dumbfounded by her pouted lips. He couldn't stop his snort, quieting almost immediately when her disappointed eyes hit the light just right and he realized they were green. They shun under the moon's florescence like jewels.

"Endeavor?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes," she nodded plainly, crossing her arms over her shawl, "I deserve to act esoteric after how long it has taken me to catch you alone." Viktor's hand dragged themselves over the sharp slopes of his own face in an exaggerated huff.

"Just- Could you get to the point?" The snake got unnecessarily close to his eye. He glared at it. “Please?”

She stood, her gown of starlight draping elegantly down to her heels, and the motion was so fluid that he wondered if she were also a serpent. Her drenched feet left a dark path as she took three steps closer to where he stood. He let the suspicion go.

"Take a firm grasp of her, then she will return to your trusted walking stick." Her sarcasm made him grin, giving a short and sweet chuckle to her offence at his sudden nonchalance. For a moment, he thought he shouldn't believe her; that touching the serpent was a sure way to get him bit and killed. But, when he wrapped a hand around the onyx tail, the painted body of his cane was suddenly slung over his right shoulder.

"Oh," he gaped at it, mouth hung open as Mel drew nearer. Her hand landing under his left elbow caused him to startle, dropping the object once again.

They both watched as the wood transformed to flesh. The snake looked slightly dazed, as if it hadn't intended to turn back so soon. Or, she, Mel had said. He repressed the urge to apologize.

Mel's untarnished giggles drew him back to reality once more. He felt his jaw shut tight and his shoulders melt like sugar under a high flame. She squeezed his arm, grinning wild enough that he could see the soul of her. Mischievous and cunning, caring and ravishing. Her laughter deflated to priceless wrinkles in the outer corners of her eyes. Her soft gaze lingered on him, but she eventually knelt down to pick up the serpent, neither of them acknowledging whether it changed back again.

She offered her hand.

"Come. I have someone to introduce."

part 2 - part 3

harry potter au where james is still alive, but lily still sacrificed herself.

i’m thinking she had her wand, james didn’t, she made him take harry and run. and she was so infuriated and frightening, that james listened to her, praying to the whole universe that she would make it out alive. they had their final, desperate kiss. and then she was running towards the explosion at their doorstep.

he ran into the darkness, grabbing his broom and sobbing with his sleeping son in his arms as blue and green lights flashed through their windows. he took off and forced himself not to look back. because he would’ve ruined everything if he had.

he made it somewhere over the ocean, looking over dark waves as the sun rose again. he was freezing, but harry was watching him silently from his blanket. they were still in their pajamas. harry had always loved their broom rides, but he didn’t giggle like he usually did.

they eventually go into hiding. he reads about lily’s death through the paper, dealing with the grief on his own.

he reads about sirius’ arrest, and peters death. then, he reads about voldemort slowly taking over the ministry one department at a time. making it harder and harder for muggle born witches and wizards to come and go. then, it’s remus’ arrest after killing fenrir greyback in a blind fit of werewolf bloodlust.

he grieves again, because he’s truly alone.

while out shopping, polyjuice potion disguising him as he sorts through produce, he catches a cat watching him from the stoop of the small store. then, a familiar nose that makes him grab his son. then, a rippled vision of his best friend.

he pays five minutes later, because harry was much too thin to go a day without good food. and he tries to run. but, he’s quickly caught, and the flurry of spells he tries to send at the men are deflected with awful, sympathetic grimaces.

he doesn’t relent until the cat finally transforms, a cold hand patting his cheek as his favorite professor pulls him into a tight embrace.

it takes possibly too much convincing, but eventually he’s making them chai, and keeping harry protectively close. they ask him to rejoin the order, to let them protect him. protect harry.

he screamed at them, only catching himself haphazardly when harry began to cry. but he’d been so full of wrath as they spoke, like he hadn’t experienced the torture of own failure. like everyone he’d ever loved wasn’t gone.

all, except his son. he wouldn’t allow the order to fail them a second time.

he’d never seen severus or regulus look so defeated. like he was someone they cared about, and they weren’t sure how to comfort him. like they were friends. he bluntly reminded them that his friends were as good as dead. minerva teared up.

he packed everything up with a rushed spell, and took harry away with the three of them still sitting behind steaming mugs.

he took to teaching harry everything he could. going through old books that his own parents had collected. some of his own from school, which held idiotic notes that he’d cry over late at night.

a few months after harry had turned five, it was severus (of all people) who found them again.

lol. this got too long and i’m still thinking about how the plot would go. i’ll possibly post more parts as i think of them. i already know if or when i do write this as a proper fic, it’ll be long. i crave james angst i fear. possible ship recommendations would be appreciated for consideration. i don’t promise anything, but romance can make things so much more tragic 🤭

AO3 Masterlist - AO3

Arcane (League of Legends):

Fuis Moi - Jayce Talis x Viktor - 36,806 words - 1 Chapter

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