Leaning Into Viktor Becoming Jesus:

The concept of paranormal Meljayvik. Viktor who has an obsession with ghosts/the afterlife (and is unknowingly susceptible to spirits.) Jayce who is intrigued by the possibility of an afterlife but terrified of any attempts to contact spirits. Then Mel, the healthy skeptic who indulges Viktor’s interests because she likes him and his company. One night Viktor talks them all into using a ouija board, and it seems to be not working at first, until spirits start to talk through Viktor rather than the board. Mel and Jayce leap to shut it down and close the portal and the coast is clear. Until Viktor starts acting strangely. Withdrawing. Growing paler by the day. Lashing out and fainting at odd times. Mel and Jayce have to put aside fear and disbelief to help wrangle Viktor from the grasp of ghosts.

part 2 of my moses!viktor au - part 1 here

Ideas for a title: "Bitter Water Made Sweet" or "She Named Him Viktor" Which are just a couple of my favorite lines from Exodus (I have a lot though, so these probably won't be the only contenders) Thoughts and opinions are appreciated. I think I’ve officially leaned into meljayvik (as seen quite obviously in this segment), and I’m quite content about it.

Mel’s hands were soft and warm. The caverns of her palms lined up with his own, and her nails dug into the back of his hand every time his right knee faltered and caused him to sway away from her.

They watched each other through the corners of their eyes, catching themselves at similar times and fastening their gazes onto the lanterns and murals along the passing streets instead. Viktor had pretended to find a particular window very interesting, not noticing the woman behind it sensually waving her crooked fingers at him until Mel was pulling him along a little more hurriedly. He slowed them down when she had gotten a little too overzealous, and his cane had begun to drag behind more than it assisted his mobility. She made a slight huff out of her nose, but politely and gracefully stepped to his own slow pace.

He eyed her again, admiring the way her hair curved around her back, the shiny tendrils like a veil as the strands billowed behind her by the breeze. Her eyes shun green again under the warm glow of the lanterns, and her lips were red instead of the black they had seemed by the stream. He felt has jaw slacken as he admired the color that had returned to her aura.

“It is impolite to ogle, Viktor.”

“I am not ogling,” he ripped his line of sight away, instead pointing a glare at half-erased hopscotch markings in the path coming up beside them. What was left of the yellow chalk was almost orange, saturated from the runoff water dripping from the gutters above it. She did not respond to his petty reply, so he changed the subject. "Where are we going again?" She hadn't told him in the first place, but he felt the urge to pretend that he had a say in their exhibition. He caught the corners of her plump lips twitch up before she bore a more neutral expression. He squinted as his eyes lingered on the changes.

"We had not thought it wise to spring this onto you all at once." She did not give him any assurance before pulling him down a side street.

He dug the heel of his good leg into the cobbled road, causing them to halt. "In case you did not notice, I seem to have missed the memo on bringing my minecart for you to push me around in!" His sarcasm filled the air between them as he heaved a deep breath and she finally looked at him with the clarity of a dirty coin run through fresh water. He glared at her wide, dolesome eyes, sighing when her grip loosened and her fingers linked with his own in a more intimate, comforting manner.

"I'm sorry, Viktor," she drew closer to him, her hip inches from brushing against his own. Her shawl was extremely soft when his wrist rubbed against it. It was warm, even with the strong wind blowing against them. While being so close, he realized that she was unnaturally warm, like a personified flame. Small, but fervent enough to make you extract your hand immediately in fear of being scorched.

She paced herself better as she led him along in the direction of a lonesome bar.

It was one of the only dwellings that still had its lights on so late at night. Late enough for the mine and street vendor workers to get off of a shift and still pretend that they had a life. It was bigger than The Last Drop, but it was not better. On the outside, the grout between crooked and graffitied bricks was cracked like a double-paned window, there were shattered lanterns on either side of the door, and the sign was held at a crooked angle by a single chain on the right side. The name was indistinguishable from the grime covering it. Viktor considered falling down like a sack of potatoes into the mud and excrement from animals pulling carriages, if only to prevent their future murders. Less by the inhabitants of such a building, and more so by the indescribable alcohol sold.

Inside was not much better. While Vander kept his bar swept and lit, this one was littered with coal dust and heavy shadows. Each tiny table had a dying, flickering candle. While it could have set a romantic mood, the muscled women in the corner throwing punches, the bartender sending a empty bottle flying at a singing man attempting to climb the counter, and the five or six knives that laid on tables of card players, caused all image of such to die.

Mel did not flinch when more than one pair of eyes landed on them, but she did step in front of him as she continued to the darkest corner. Her grip tightened, nearly strangling his hand's circulation. She tossed warning glances with her chin up, and Viktor watched her with amazement as she made the atmosphere return to normal. No one said a word to them.

"How did you do that?" he asked as they sat down. He very briefly felt embarrassed when she made it a point to help him sit comfortably in the booth, not letting go of him until he was surely planted.

"Do what?" she asked, beguile. As she flowed into the seat opposite of him, her smirk returned. She sat straight as an arrow, but he could tell that it was out of habit and not in a tense manner. She seemed relaxed, never more on edge as she had been when daring the other patrons to interrupt her. Even Vander had to do more than look at his clientage to get them to knock it off. And he'd witnessed Vander punch someone through a window on more than one occasion. Which made him wonder….

"Can you move things with your..." he searched for a word to describe what he had caught her doing just barely an hour beforehand. He made vague swishing motions with his fingers, attempting to mimic what she had done with the golden sparks. She giggled into her closed fingers, eyes flickering to something on Viktor's left. He smiled marginally, following her gaze. He had expected to find a funny painting on the wall, or possibly a crude remark etched into the fake leather of the seat. Instead, he was flailing in an attempt to escape as he met a new set of eyes.

His scream was cut abruptly and effectively off by a salt sweaty hand over his mouth. He made a muffled sound of affronted anger, twisting roughly to at least get a better look at the stranger. The man had dark hair, slightly tousled from what had once been a neat slick back. His skin was beautifully healthy tan, but he had silvery scars along his hands and arms as a result of some type of physical labor. He didn't have a beard, but he was not clean shaven either. Finally, Viktor seethed at ale-colored eyes, wrenching his jaw out of the offenders hold and biting down on the flesh of his thenar eminence.

"Fuck!" The heat around the back of his neck and cheeks was gone, a string of saliva breaking once the man's hand was clutched to his broad chest. Viktor grunted and wiped away the moisture across his lips, all while keeping an unrelenting glower on him. The man laughed after a moment, his cheeks blowing up like a balloon and his eyebrows lifting in shock. His head flung backwards as his boisterous rumbles carried across the room. Viktor slowly turned to gawk at Mel, who was almost as amused as the other.

Viktor felt a furious, revengeful urge to hit them both in the head with his cane. But when Mel lifted a brow, he kept his fingers back from reaching for the stick at his side.

A hand in his peripheral vision made him begrudgingly look over. And his annoyance abruptly dropped, his mouth parting just slightly when the man tilted his head in a much sweeter acknowledgement. He hummed at Viktor's lack of requite, none of his pleasantry dropping as he took Viktor's free hand in his own. He had large hands, which was what he took note of immediately. It wrapped his own like a gift, a span of callouses digging into delicate bones.

"I'm Jayce."

He blinked, "Vik-"

"-Viktor." The way Jayce said his name felt like how the sun warmed your skin on a breezy day. He said nothing back. "I know who you are." Jayce didn't let his hand go. He noticed that their hands had only held each other's in a frozen grasp, and the thought made Viktor look back at Mel.

She smiled at him, the motion capacious and delightful. "Now that you two have been acquainted, let us discuss why we brought you here, Viktor."

Viktor looked between them, at Jayce's glee and Mel's pride at a job so far well done. Jayce's hand broke from the professional grasp they had adhered to and instead tucked his fingers under Viktor's palm. He regarded Mel with the same simmering excitement as he had Viktor.

"Go on," he nodded to her, attempting to ignore the broadening smile on the other man's face. It really was distracting. He found he didn't hate it as much as he normally would have. Or, the way he should have.

"I want to prevent war," Mel's sound dropped significantly. Viktor had to crane his neck closer to hear her clearly, brows pinched in concentration. "In order to do that, I have compiled a series of warnings to frighten Piltover into letting Zaun go. They will refuse, but we will punish them until they are burdened with guilt too heavy to carry further." She leaned in closer, elbows folded neatly on the greasy table. "It will take time, but it is my goal to manipulate the city in preventing further deaths."

Viktor bit back his wave of inquiries, sieving through them to find an easier one to portray his interest. He barely noticed the way his silence made concern flicker across his companions faces, or how Jayce's hand constricted around his own.

"How do I play into this? I do not hold any significant power."

"Of course you do," Mel held her chin up with one hand as she stared prettily at him. She was unrelenting, that was for certain, and was full of enough spirit for an army. He couldn't help but believe her.

Jayce nudged him, "Well," he whispered into Viktor's ear, "Are you in?"

He thought of Vander and his daughters, of Benzo and Ekko, of his entire block that protected him from being dragged back to Piltover for exile. In the back of his mind, he recalled memories of Cassandra and Caitlyn doing the same. He shuddered at the memory of the heartbreak they had observed him with before he had fled.

"Are you aware of my connections to the council?" They nodded, respectfully solemn. He sighed, the hairs in his face flying up like a broken parcel.

Jacy scooted himself even closer, "If we pull this off, you'll be able to see them again. In the sunlight, without the fear of getting sent away."

Mel reached a hand out, fixing his crazed whisps of hair that had fallen back into his eyes, "We will protect you, Viktor. But you have to trust us as much as we do you. And if that is too much to ask, you have to ask yourself if you can at least give us the chance to gain it ourselves." He felt his head grow heavier as he caught himself leaning into her touch. He straightened, weighing the options over again.

He could let it go. He could leave like he had never met these people before in his life. He could watch as Zaun fought for their own freedom, just as history naturally went. He knew he would have to watch his friends die, and that that would be inevitable in the case.

He had never delt with loss well. When Cassandra had told him the story of his real parents, how they had sent him down the Pilt in a last-ditch effort of saving his life, he had hidden away and ignored his own health for so long, that they had kept him in private, consistent company for weeks afterwards. Just the loss of people he had never met weighed heavy enough to cause a spiraling case of grief. He feared what a war would cause him to do. And, even as the lingering light of his family up in Piltover turned grey, he had his answer in mind.

"Can we get out of here?"

part 3

based on this post of mine

link here

is it smart to work on three projects at the same time? maybe not!! but that won’t stop me.

au were silco finds out vi is still alive. much earlier than in canon. and then having vulnerable feelings ensue) sorry silco. :(

here’s a teeny dabble on it while i think about how to go about it:

Silco didn’t make it a habit to travel Topside. He preferred the damp shadows of Zaun. And besides, a step in Piltover meant an immediate risk to his entire means. Which had been proven easily enough when he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Although he covered his bases, and he wasn’t dense, incidents occurred. In addition to the fact that he was unfortunately, still very human, and the bridge of the nation’s boarder made his head swim and his eye ache terribly. He’d ignore the pang of hurt that continued to hit him in the chest until the day he died. Possibly even longer.

Stillwater was probably the closest thing a convicted Piltie would get to living in Zaun. Enforcers at every corner, barely enough food, and enough back-talk to fill the Pilt River. It made him miss work in the mines. Where the labor was absolute shit, but the people kept you coming back. He’d leave with enough pain in his body to knock out an elephant, but with Vander’s arm keeping him warm and Felica’s sass reminding him to laugh. Back when it had all been worth it, without a doubt. Blisters and bedrock.

It was no matter to him either way now, Marcus would correct his people’s error. If he knew what was good for him and his naive child. Silco knew himself, and his people knew him almost good enough. There was a tight deadline ticking away the second the puny rookie with black hair had strapped his wrists. In the mean time, Stillwater was tolerable. Besides the florescent lights that burned his damaged eye.

A flash of magenta made him halt in front of the guard behind him. His shackles clanged as he took a step back.

She almost looked like her mother. Almost. Jinx was a closer resemblance. Violet held a wrath that seemed to seep from her bones, her eyes hardened with so much determination and attentiveness that it made him weary.

What truly made him stumble, was the way she held herself. The slightest slouch, making herself look smaller than she was. Her fists were wrapped by stained scraps of white fabric. They were clenched, making the linen taut around her swollen knuckles. And, by the way a few of the men around her slithered away, she had earned a level of rightful hierarchy inside.

Worst of all, Silco snapped his jaw shut, was the fact that she was so much like him. Like Vander. He didn’t need to venture towards her to know. He knew it by the way she stewed by herself while everyone else gathered in pairs and groups. How her lips twisted upon noticing him. Even the flicker of hope that crossed like a bullet.

A hopelessly lonely soul. Two peas in a pod.

Vander had been alone, before any one of their group had drawn together. He had been alone, and he had stewed. He lived by his brute strength and bravery, and Vi was following all the same footsteps. Like a child in thick snowbanks.

He almost pitied her. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that it was more of a mourning. Of what their lives could have consisted of. If everything hadn’t gone sideways.

The moment was broken when a rounded baton poked him sharply in his spine, “Move.” He glowered. But, he did adhere to the rookie’s insolence. Vi was spinning her food tray around in circles on the table, eyes dark with murderous intent.

The blue of her eyes made him miss Connol, who had always managed to keep their chaos barred. Unfortunately, Vi didn’t seem to even vaguely carry such a patience from her biological father.

She really was Vander’s girl. Fitting.

He felt eyes on the back of head even after he was locked away behind four stone walls and an iron door. She had stuck to him like an oil residue, and he felt dreadful at the realization.

He reflected on the discovery of her life. Knowing he wouldn’t allow himself once his current mess was in the process of being cleaned up, there would be too much to be done after such a discovery. With Violet alive, there were bridges left unburned. And he would have to figure a way to either bury the hatchet, or find a match to strike.

If he could handle disposing of the one person he’d loved and trusted the most, he could deal with just another byproduct. He stared at one of the little glints of light through the cracks of the door.

But, as he was all by his lonesome in a frigid box, his mind wandered to Vander. And, against his will, he mourned some more.

CHAPTER FOUR - link 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.

i saw a post with this scene the other day. ⬆️

a lot of people had commented this and that about their depictions of vi being jealous and shocked that jinx was up there with vander instead of herself.

and (as a troubled eldest daughter myself) that broke my heart a bit. although, i think it is realistic for vi to have shown a moment of vulnerability with the audience and then be ripped to pieces by individuals declaring it resentment and selfishness. no shade.

personally, i latched onto that tiny moment where her face falls. the animation of such a flicker of something akin to disappointment is astonishing.

i do think she’s seeing the mural for what it’s lacking. because it is lacking her. but, i think it has more to do with the fact that jinx and vander are there, but she’s not with them. not even necessarily including the political context. just the fact that even a random painting on a random wall lacked her presence just as much as real life.

she should have been right next to her little sister, but she wasn’t. she had both lost that choice, and then made the wrong one.

i can’t help but wonder if the years of being an imprisoned child so incredibly scared that she’d never get another chance for see her sister flashed before her eyes.

i think that mural shackled her to the fact that her world had continued on without her. and she wasn’t needed around to make it function anymore.

vander and their parents’ deaths had instilled in her that her sole purpose was to keep the earth spinning and to keep jinx safe. but, in the end, jinx had adapted. vi hadn’t.

lol

sorry for ranting! i could be entirely wrong, don’t take this to heart. it’s just what i took in and reflected on, and i wanted to share my thoughts. i find it so strangely comforting to see an oldest daughter go through so many punches and such heavy emotional strain and still keep her head up.

she’s so imperfect and i love her.

CHAPTER TWO- 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.

Vi lost a bet (couldn’t chug a Monster in 5 seconds) and had to go to the dudes bathrooms

She regrets having eyes now 😔

Hope yall enjoy this stupid jayce and Viktor post 😭🫶

jayvik au following the “the crow” (kind of)

content warning: violence!

where jayce and viktor are killed/assassinated in their apartment. it was a hit made by one of the chem barons in zaun to take down “the man of progress.” meant to throw piltover off balance (and eventually there will be a higher reveal that connects it to a certain higher power)

viktor was home when they first broke in, and he fought as much as he could, but it was ultimately four against one. so, jayce enters and nearly goes haywire at the scene he finds. but, this is season one jayce, and season one jayce has brute strength and not much experience with actually using it. so it’s a very messy crime scene. it’s awful.

but…HEAR ME OUT…viktor is resurrected (which makes the most sense because in the movie eric wasn’t the one the hit was on, and this way it would be the same). i feel like most people would make jayce the ‘chosen one’ (so to speak) but no. viktor digs himself out of the ground and goes on a vengeful killing spree in zaun. where he piques the interest of jinx and silco (who eventually befriend and help him). and then he eventually climbs his way higher and higher as the plot thickens.

one day guys…one day i’ll get to it </3

CHAPTER THREE - link 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.