forest-mankey

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Do you think when Viktor was in the Hex cocoon he was clutching the fuck ass blanket while in the fetus position?

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Fuck I hate how accurate this is

Pondering my orbs.

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He’s girly pop

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Demon?

I based the reverent of rats on a Powerwolf song.

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DID SOMEBODY SAY 9 AU?!?!?!

(Crickets)

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I- I physically can’t stop

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SMUT GET YA SMUT HERE!!!

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Viktor dog ears his books, Jayce has an absurd amount of bookmarks. Jayce tries to get Viktor to use book marks but he says he “doesn’t see the point in them, look at how easy and effective this is” and Jayce makes a sound like Viktor slapped him.

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NSFW artwork on Blusky

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Sometimes a family is an amnesiac monster hunter, a cursed princess and a tiny hairy inventor.

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Yeah it was way to late in the game before I realized Valentine’s Day was coming up so, you don’t get a thought out rendered piece. You get what I’ve been thinking of for the last week.

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Kinda obsessed with the idea of Jayce cutting open his bad leg in secrecy to see what the arcane has/is done to him. To see how it’s rotted his flesh, how it’s no longer just mortal red, it’s now a kaleidoscope when he bleeds from his bad leg, how it smells like sweet rot and ozone when he opens the incision, how his veins have changed and now bleed from little holes that dot his hardening flesh in little drops, ah yes and his ever reoccurring problem of his growing ceramic flesh, the arcane fusing the cells together like vines under his skin that’s starting to crystallize so he has to dig it out in shards.

The bone fused in an unnatural fashion, jagged and bent and oh so colorful and pretty, if you ignore how morbid it is. It’s grown its own pattern from the break when it healed, climbing up the bone and spreading slowly to his joints and above. It’s trying to fuse with his flesh so he has to shave it down every once in a while.

The stitching is annoying and tedious, having to mend the slightly concave flesh back together and pretend that the tray next to him filled with shards of the arcane mixed with his bone and clotted blood that he’ll have to dispose of is normal. But the healing process has always stuck out to Jayce.

When he receives a wound that’s close to the area of infection it’s regenerative rate is faster then in parts of his body yet to be touched by the arcanes slow crawl. Areas like his leg, arm and back the incisions never last more then a night depending on how carried away he became. It’s led to a long term experiment.

Each morning he’ll make a small cut on or around the infected areas and tab it’s progress of regeneration, currently a slice to his chest above his heart is yet to heal with any symptoms of arcanic assistance, it’s safe to bet then that anything above his chest will have the same effect or lack there of. He’d nic his ear next if people or a certain persons wasn’t paying attention to his every micro movement, how bad his limp is on a certain day or if his brace is functioning properly after missing an oil treatment. Stares at his back so hard Jayce is convinced he can see through his clothes and see the hideous scar stretched across his back in all its sickly green glory.

Or worse, that he’ll see through Jayce’s facade and clock how he struggled to sew his arm back together with one hand, or how the whiskey burned when he poured it on the wound, or how much his jaw hurt from biting the fabric of his shirt to stop from screaming.

Viktor’s perceptiveness is as much of a charm as it can be an annoyance.

Viktor.

Viktors scars are beautiful, they cover the entirety of his body, they swirl around him reminiscent of clouds or the gases of space, beautiful patterns from his toes to his head, minus his face. His face, the only remaining feature of their life before the hexcore, before Jayce betrayed Viktors trust a second time, a face that haunts Jayce in every way possible.

His dreams where he’ll smile that crooked grin that Jayce remembers so fondly, the one the crinkles the corners of his eyes when he does it after solving a particularly tough equation or Jayce does something idiotic to make him laugh. Oh his eyes, the color of melted gold or amber, a deep but bright color sweeter the the whiskey that Jayce now knows the familiar sting of, the eyes that Jayce fell in love with the first time he saw them in the moonlight of his destroyed dorm.

But also the face that haunts his Nightmares, were his body lays limp and cold, looks up at Jayce with that glassy fish eyed stare and mumbles “why Jayce?” Before that same face that has inspired Jayce’s most damning of decisions splits down the middle to make way for the herald, the claw that rips from Viktor’s now elongating spine griping Jayce’s throat with a slender and cold grip as Viktors body contorts on the table. But even then Jayce still thinks he’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

The scars shine when the light hits them, he looks like an fallen angel bathed in beautiful tragedy that Jayce forced upon him. He glows, brighter than any star in any galaxy of their known universe, he shines like he was always meant to. Breath taking.

Jayce feels no envy, quite the opposite, it’s fitting really, that he takes the sorrow and hurt for them both. That now it’s his leg that makes the most basic of functions that he’s always been able to do without thought, now feels like a miracle if it only feels like needles poking his flesh.

His arm that throbs with the constant hum of the arcane that causes his hand to tremble when it used to be motionless at his will. His forging has taken notable affect from this.

His back and shoulders ache from when he hit that cold, wet stone floor at the bottom of that ravine. He struggles to stay comfortable in his bed at night, when he barely had to think about it before, but he also used to sleep like the dead in those days, now he struggles to stay asleep, if not the constant hum of pain than it’s his mind that will never let him rest.

But Jayce wouldn’t change it for anything, he’ll take all the pain and restless nights and lashes the world will give him if it means Viktor can live life with the body he always deserved.

If he can see Viktor move so freely through the market or the library or the old shitty house that they took refuge in after Piltover. Than he’ll suffer through it with a smile. He’ll bury the scalpel in his now cursed flesh and study its workings in case Viktor ever needs it, it’ll be the only reason why Jayce sticks around after all the mistakes he’s made.

So why? Why does Viktor look so horrified to find Jayce sitting on the floor leaning against his bed, that very scalpel in hand, carving out more ceramic from his bone? When this is all Jayce has now? All he has to keep him off the edge of the cliff, all he has to busy his mind from the solitude and the failure and the memories of the faces of the innocent captured in horror fossilized forever in the arcane and the-

Viktor’s crying. Has Jayce failed him again?

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Oh Hextor…

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Never let em’ know your next move

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@seadeepspaceontheside uh HexJayce emotional ballad for Viktor?

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I’ll be honest, one of my favorite post-cannon Jayvik tropes is when they’re touch language switches and Viktor now tries to touch Jayce all the time and Jayce actively avoids Viktors personal space and shys away (/ possibly flinching away) from touch, because he thinks that’s what Viktor likes/wants and Viktor takes that as a new form of rejection, especially if Jayce “avoids” him by busying himself so he’s not hovering over Viktor 24/7 and Viktor thinks he’s scared of him now.

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I am so not used to drawing cuddling figures, or figures touching at all, so this is probs not that great but. PRACTICE!!