#listen i kind of hate jayce

[verysadlesbian]

Y'all think I care about canon????!!!! I was out here, in the motherfuckin' trenches, shipping Destiel!!! I don't fucking care about such unimportant things as "canon".

[ginnvngagap]

no, Jayce Talis didn't mean "Viktor, your terminal illness and physical disability that causes you constant pain are fxcking awesome actually, you should totally enjoy them" he meant "Viktor, your terminal illness and psysical disability don't make you any less loveable and I never saw you as weak or pitiful because of them. in my eyes, you were always perfect."

I have a feeling this take stems from a fundamental misunderstanding of what internalized ableism (or bigotry in general) actually is.

as a personal example, I don't exactly agree with the autism as a superpower narrative, and I refuse to be ashamed of not being proud of every single aspect of my neurodivergence and mental illnesses. no, I don't want a cure, because it still defines me as a person, but if someone announced tomorrow that they can fix my autistic inertia, executive dysfunction or sensory problems with just a flip of a switch, I'd accept that in a heartbeat. not wanting to suffer is not the same as thinking I am worthless or lazy because of my neurodivergence.

as another example of internalized bigotry: I've seen a user on the bird app having to defend herself against people who insisted that thinking periods are gross and unpleasant to have is her hating her womanhood. but listen, I fxcking hate having a uterus. I hate that I can get pregnant (I have tokophobia), and I hate periods with a fiery passion (and mine aren't even that painful, I rarely have cramps and they always last around 5 days). I don't like how they feel, I don't like the pain, the mood swings, and yes, I find blood coming out of my vagina gross, especially when it includes those little chunks. it's just a very uncomfortable experience overall. this however doesn't mean that I think I should be treated as impure, or inferior. I don't think it's okay to treat me as if I'm an inherently irrational creature (although I'd argue that all humans are, but I digress) incapable of a single logical thought because of my cycle, and I don't feel ashamed of asking for a pad or a tampon, because it's a natural bodily function and no one should ever be shunned for it.

bigotry is a social construct, it's shame, discrimination, ostracization. it's the belief that certain ways of being are inherently shameful and should be purged from "civilized" society, because to the "correct" people, they aren't even human.

Viktor not wanting to die or be in pain isn't the problem, and Jayce has already demonstrated that the only thing he hates about those conditions is that he doesn't want to lose his partner and he doesn't want him to suffer. the problem is that Viktor believed his illness and disability made him inferior and unloveable. he wanted to fix himself not just because he didn't want to die or suffer, but because he was convinced he needed to achieve perfection in order to be loved and accepted, to be a worthy partner of Jayce.

but this kind of thinking is what leads to erasing everything that makes us human, that makes us unique. that was Viktor's greatest error, wanting so badly to transcend the human condition, he risked erasing human lives all together.

[notsofrozt]

So, for y'all "S2 Jayce meets S1 Viktor" hungry folks, here's a list of 5 of the bookmarks I've been collecting (for you specially @maiawhimsicalt) in no particular order and with no particular comentary, my braincells are on strike rn:

1. Of Memories and Tomorrows by Lieyantosh

Post-Season 2 Jayce and Season 1 Viktor, the grief of having lost your soulmate while having to look at his younger version who doesn’t even know you, the endless exhaustion of being a second-hand love and also science.

This fic has changed something in my I cannot describe, and if anyone here even remotely likes Arcane (or even if you don't know the series at all, it's that well written) y'all should read it right know.

You didn't hate me because of what my future self did,” Viktor said, feeling distinctly pathetic. There was a certain vulnerability in this, like he was opening up his ribcage for Jayce to see. “You hate me because I'm not him. Because you came back. And he didn't.”

2. the future came undone by Lieyantosh

Instead of appearing several months after the wild rune took him, Jayce lands in the past and decides to take out Viktor before he can turn into the monster he saw in the future.

This author is just *chef kiss*

3. intertwined, sewn together by lamoureg

Just as soon as the dance begins, it’s over.

In the silver, the faint mist rays of light, he can make out a face. One that’s achingly familiar, one he knows like the back of his hand, yet isn’t familiar with whatsoever. A man, bronze skin pallid and devoid of the life Viktor is so used to seeing. Shaggy dark hair hanging in curtains around his face — a face littered with cuts and bruises, stained with dirt and soot. Heavy set brows and eyes wide in shock.

Rather inappropriately, Viktor’s first thought is oh, fuck. And his second. And his third.

Because staring back at him is Jayce.

If you read this with Jinx and Ekko's song playing in the background you're going to cry.

4. You’re starting to look really weird by anónimo

Viktor lays awake, listening to the steady breathing beside him. The breathing of a man sleeping on his husband’s side of the bed, in his husband’s clothes, with his husband’s face, but who is most certainly not his husband.

This one has a very original concept: the reunion from Viktor's POV. Older Jayce got Ekko'd into his other self's body, so there's a stranger inhabiting his partner. It delves into that whole psychological horror aspect. I love it.

5. Stay Your Pretty Eyes On Course by Neibba

��I do not recall telling you my name.” Viktor stated matter-of-factly. “Yet you know it. Have we met?” Yes. Many times. Practically lived together inside their lab, but he couldn’t tell Viktor that. No, this Viktor had no idea who Jayce really was, and he intended on keeping it that way.

After the Hexcore collapsed, Jayce gets sent back to where it all started, the day he met Viktor, but Viktor seems to have no recollection of him. What happens when Jayce gets another chance, knowing what he knows now.

This author is a writing machine powered by glorious evolution and brainworms. I love this fic, its updated almost daily, and the way the relationship between the two of them develops is wonderful.

I have many, many more saved, especially one shots of S2!Jayce having all kinds of breakdown as soon as he sees S1!Viktor. I'll make another list later when deadlines aren't breathing on my neck.

I hope you like it!!!

[nimbusghoul]

The Nice Soap-Viktor x Bimbo!Reader

Pairing:Viktor x Reader

Type: Fluff TO smut for the entirety

Fandom:Arcane/LoL(more Arcane Vik than LoL Vik, let me have my twink, okay?)

WC:1337 This is just a sneak peek, if you want more, I'll continue to provide, Don't hate me!

Viktor was never one to catch feelings easily, but when you came into his life from being a good friend of Jayce, he began to feel something new.

When Jayce introduced you to him, he didn’t know how to react to your bubbly air headed nature, it was new. Sure, Jayce is charismatic, but he didn’t shine as bright as you did, you could light up the whole room with a personality like that.

Maybe you weren’t the smartest, but you were an amazing listener, and things didn’t seem to get to you very often. Usually just in one ear and out the other, but when you were interested, your body language changed, anyone could tell you were paying attention, even if you usually didn’t fully understand.

You’d turn yourself towards him and lean in again or prop your elbows on the table and put your chin in your hands, kicking your feet a bit, and it was when you would ask most of the questions.

“What’s that?”

“What, a Hex Core?”

“Mhm! I dunno what that is, Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, I understand not everyone has the same knowledge. Ehh, a Hex Core is an adaptive rune matrix with Hextech in the middle…the potential for ultimate advancements in technology!”

“ohhh!… what?? I dunno what that stuff is either, i mean, i know what runes are but…what’s…all the other stuff??”

Viktor took a minute, how would he explain this without making you feel like you had less and less knowledge? He would never want to hurt your feelings, you were too pretty to be sad.

“Hextech uses magic to create artifacts, it’s made up of a special crystal. It can do all kinds of things, not just for me and the hexcore is full of hextech, which means it has all kinds of that magic.”

“Sounds like a lot of math, which i’m not good at. I think I’ll stick to less complex things and let you handle all of that genius people stuff”

You were really the only person who could distract him from his work. He had completely forgotten about the papers in front of him, his focus was on you, even if the papers were the thing you asked about. He realized he doesn’t ever really ask any questions that he had for you

“May I ask you an…odd question?”

“hm, of course! just make sure it’s not too complicated of a question? really big words get me all confused…”

“Of course of course. Those nails of yours, are they real? like, your actual nail? they’re quite long.”

“What? god no, these are made with powder polymethylmethacrylate and a monomer liquid!”

You turned over you hand and tapped on the underside of your nails, Viktor was a little shocked from that long word you managed to string out describing the acrylic powder

“So…they are plastic?”

“Nope! You gotta put the liquid with a bit of the monomer and then put it on top of a guide, sometimes plastic? but I like to use my silicone one because it peels better, and thennn you put the whole thing under UV light for it to harden and they’re so much better than fake plastic nails! fake nails that are plastic feel so icky and come off WAYYY too easy. plus nail glue can fuck up your skin soooo bad!”

“ah, i see, so you know a lot about this topic?”

“Of course! if i’m gonna look pretty I have to be healthy and to be healthy i have to know what Im doing to my body! That’s why I like hate cOsMeTiC sUrGuRiEs cause like everyone is beautiful in their own way and the fact that people think they have to pay to be beautiful is really disgusting! everyone was made to grow differently, just because you don’t look like your neighbor or your pretty classmate doesn’t mean you aren’t pretty or attractive or perfect! But like Botox for headaches is fine, it helps with migraines!”

“I see you feel very strongly about these things, Is there a reason why? Perhaps a connection to memories in which it makes you upset about this topic?”

“Well…I just want everyone to be happy, you know? and if you hate yourself because you don’t look like everyone else…that’s not happy. The only thing that’s truly ugly or unattractive is the way we treat some people, and the awful things we say and do. Ugly doesn’t exist *on* people, it exists *in* people.”

You turned to Viktor after finishing a sentence, a small smile, the first real one you’ve seen, but you decided not to say anything, having an internal celebration instead of external. Celebratory of small victories(or should i say Viktories, okay yeah i’ll see myself out sorry), it was rare to see Viktor smile from what Jayce has told you.

“You are very different from me, and yet i enjoy the company you provide, it’s quite odd, with how different our knowledge is you’d think I would be annoyed with all your questions, but you also have knowledge I don’t. I do not look into what I wear or the lotions, soaps and sanitizers I put on my hands-”

You were quick to accidentally cut him off, suddenly remembering why you came to the lab in the first place, even when it slipped out on the way from your home to the lab.

“OHMYGOODNESS!! I tOTALLY forgot about that! Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off, but I wanted to say I got you some new soap because i was reading the ingredients and yours contained formaldehyde!! that’s probably why your hands are always so dry, that is so bad for your skin! I also got you some lotion because they’re so dry from that awful soap…”

You quickly dug through your purse, pulling out a large bottle of moisturizing hand soap and some hand lotion with aloe, quickly placing them on the desk

“I literally went to the market at like 8 this morning because I knew that’s when they first set up so like they weren’t all gone when I got there!”

“You did this for me?”

“pshhh, yeah! and i got my pet some more of those cute special treats, they only get sold like twice during the week and they’re all gone in like an hour. it’s so terrible if I can’t get my sleepy butt up in time to get some!”

“Are they truly that important?”

“Well, my pets are like…my family! they’re like my little babies and I would literally assault whoever the hell runs this universe for my babies?”

“I apologize, I was speaking about the soap.”

“Oh, oops! Yeah, I wanted to get you something nice, plus, all the really nice ones sell out so fast! Especially like when this huuuuge group of wives come through and buy like literally everything nice.”

"Group of...wives?"

"Yeah, like, you know, middle aged women who don't need so much damn soap?"

"Ah..."

he seemed to take a pause to think

"Why...for me? Why not for Jayce?" He asked, looking up at you

"What? Your hands are dry, Jayce doesn't have...all that as an issue...you know?"

He seemed surprised as he thought before laughing quietly

"How are you so sure what my hands feel like? I'm sure Jayce is very touchy...but you know, I am not."

You felt your face heat quickly

"Well, I- they sound dry! You know, when you rub your hands together and it sounds...dry, like you can't hear my hands unless I rub them together really hard!"

He chuckled softly at your embarrassment before standing

"I find it cute that you care. Thank you, Солнышко(sólnyshka)"

-CUTOFF FOR PREVIEW-

[cursedwretch]

What Lurks Beneath - Chapter 4

Viktor x AFAB!Reader; Word count: 7343 Words (oops); Rating 18+ MDNI

AO3 | Prev

CW: Some minor spice ahead! Pubic displays of affection, mentions of female anatomy, a smidge of soft dom!Viktor

I despise short-notice meetups. It’s my mantra as I fiddle with the buttons of my blouse, dread curling in my stomach while I change from my standard uniform into an outfit more bar appropriate. Shucking on my coat, I jog downstairs and out my door. I curl in on myself immediately, drawing my coat tight against the chilled air currently snaking its way down my spine. I would bail entirely there wasn’t the sole, simple reason I agreed to go in the first place:

Some monster inside me has grown used to Viktor’s sporadic presence in my life, and I find myself eager for the easy way out of this... void. I really should apologize. And I have tried. I just happen to chicken out. Repeatedly. Which is exactly how I found myself invited to this event in the first place earlier today.

I stand, hovering down the hall from the Hextech labs, trying to will my stubborn feet to move forward. Eyes affixed to the door. It’s Nathan greeting me that breaks the paralytic making its way through my bones.

“We’re going out for drinks tonight,” Nathan’s voice is leading, full of a promise I opt to ignore in favor of his next words, “Jayce will be there, Alisa—“

He rattles off more names, though I’ve stopped listening. I let him go on, watching the door at the end of the hall. It cracks open.

“Sure,” I interrupt.

His eyebrows fly up, “really? Great. I’ll pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there,” my answering smile is tight-lipped. I hope the subtext is clear enough. He nods, opening his mouth to speak.

“Great, see you!” I turn on my heels, straining to maintain a dignified pace despite every muscle in my body wanting to bolt. Right then, right there.

It’s not a matter of pride. Honestly.

I just don’t want to face that again—that palpable disappointment. It makes my chest ache, a hollow and rotten sink worming its way through my heart. A tad overdramatic? Fine. Yes.

It had only been a few days. Still, Viktor strikes me as the kind of man with walls so high, any perceived slight would result in another being rebuilt and reinforced. Brick after brick until the only option left is to take a bulldozer to his heart just to get back to where you started.

Either way.

I truly, truly hate last minute events.

The bar itself is chock full, with a long, mostly empty table sitting towards the back. A touch out of place, considering the standing-room-only atmosphere throughout. I cringe as I make my way there.

Viktor is the first I spot—seated with his back to the entrance beside Jayce and a woman I distinctly recall being his date at the gala a short while ago. Jealously rears its ugly head, burning and wriggling a hole through my heart. I smile weakly at them as I follow Nathan, taking a seat toward the center, my back to the wall.

The rest of the party grows steadily as people filter in. Filled with strangers, and a few familiar faces peppered between. Sky, who shared a few of my ecology classes during my time as a student. A few colleagues from my department. Pupils of Heimerdinger’s.

I sip at my drink, watching the liquid swirl inside the glass as I listen to the conversations surrounding me. Content with eavesdropping, I stay quiet. Viktor does the same, though I avoid looking his way at all costs.

To my dismay, I can’t stay a voyeur forever.

“I hear you’re researching a restoration project? In the trenches?” It’s Nathan who asks, finally turning my way.

I shift in my seat, clearing my throat as I correct, “yes, in the Undercity.”

There’s a scoff at the other end of the table, though I don’t catch who it’s from as I take a deep swig from my drink. I can feel Viktor’s eyes on me, boring little holes along my skin. I don’t dare look over.

“Interesting,” Nathan leans in, “all hypothetical then?”

“Good luck cleaning up after the sump trash,” the same person mumbled from down the table. This time, I’m able to pick him out as he stares my way with a cruel grin. The man has a shock of white hair, and is quite over adorned, even for Piltover. Gold stacks of jewelry hang off of his fingers, long nails tipped in the very same. Not someone who works with his hands then. His eyes hold a challenging glint.

I take it, narrowing my own. I distantly recognize him as one of the sons of a merchant house, though I can’t recall the name. Relatively unimportant, then. And clearly not involved with the academy. Someone’s plus one.

Likely Nathan’s, judging by the familiar look he gives him: eyebrows raised, lips tight, a silent broadcast of ‘shut up’ across the table.

“No,” I cast one last cold glare in the direction before returning to Nathan, “I plan on following through.”

I give in, daring a glance towards the other end of the table. Jayce is bouncing between Viktor and I—expression oozing with concern. He sends a curt nod my way before he places a touch to Viktor’s arm, touch lingering there as he stands. Viktor swallows. He scratches his fork against the small plate before him.

“You won’t get funding,” comes another voice: Nysa Virellian. A former classmate of mine. Her words are measured and sure, naturally. Her family, owners and operators of a prominent trading fleet, have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo.

“I may. With the right angle,” I shrug.

Jayce heads to the other end of the long table, hand clapping down on the man from earlier’s shoulder. He speaks in low, hushed voice. I can tell by the receiver’s gulp, face flaring bright red, that it isn’t pleasant. With a harsh pat to their back he’s standing, coolly returning to his seat.

Emboldened, I continue, “it affects us too, you know.”

Another scoff.

I arch my brow, pointing to the picked over pastries scattering the table. “We use fish for fertilizer, you know. Degrading habitat mean less fish. Less fish, less wheat. Less cakes to stuff your face with.”

The table grows quiet. Admittedly, I’m being a bit preachy. But my fuse is short, and I don’t particularly feel like putting up with being picked over by near-strangers tonight like a carcass slaughtered for their entertainment alone.

“Not exactly a compelling argument. The are other sources for both wheat and fertilizer—we are a trade hub, after all,” Nysa brushes me off.

I sigh, deep and ragged.

Nathan pats my hand above the table as he speaks, “keep at it, you’re just getting back into the swing of things.”

Patronizing bastard.

Rage, white hot simmers up my throat, threatening to bubble out. It’d be too easy to turn that acid his way, he’d make such a large target for a few choice words. Too insecure, too advantageous. I swallow. I pull my hand away instead, placating him with a tight smile.

Leave it, my heart chants. And so, I do, taking the awkward lull as an opportunity to drain the dredges from my glass.

There’s that warmth again.

I glance up to find Viktor staring my way, eyes burning into mine with an otherwise blank face. I shift, holding his gaze, as the conversation picks up around us. Thankfully, they shift away to lighter topics. One thing is certain: no one in Piltover wants to talk about the Undercity for long. Jayce’s voice cuts our spell, sending us scattering to find fresh focuses as he previews the progress they’ve made with their research.

I wait. Until enough time passes to not be horribly obvious, I take the first opportunity available to slip away, eager to rid my lungs of the stagnant, perfumed air of the bar.

The alley provides just that. Cool, crisp. Dim but warmly lit, incandescent lights providing a warm glow throughout.

Clean.

So, shocking clean.

I’ve never noticed how clean our alleys were prior to my trips with Viktor. Until I saw how easy it is for a city to slip into disrepair and filth when the lack the basic resources for survival. Who sweeps a damned alley when survival means clawing your way through earth itself. Hopeful to find a something of worth for us up above. My stomach turns at the thought, signing. There are many things I haven’t noticed, it seems.

I close my eyes, arms wrapping my coat tighter to my skin. I’m debating leaving entirely as the door behind me cracks open. Footsteps let me know another has joined me.

I feel, more than see, Viktor step into my periphery.

“I have been meaning to talk to you,” he starts.

I swallow, sighing as I look to where the alley meets the street, away from him, “I don’t have the heart for any more debates tonight, Viktor.”

“Mh? No, no. That is not my intention.”

I turn towards him, taking him in.

His arms are crossed, expression guarded. Walls up. I note his cane—rested gently against the brick wall. Still feeling uncharacteristically stubborn, I wait. Let him be the first to speak.

“You were right,” he acquiesces. His mouth pulls into a little grimace that lets me know exactly how rarely he says those words. He continues, “I have no right to dictate where you can go.”

I blink. My own words escape me in an easy exhale, “at least we’re guilty of the same sin.”

His eyes crease, warm.

“For what it’s worth,” I frown, “I’m sorry, too, Viktor.”

His gaze falls away, fixating on something over my shoulder in the distance. I wonder if that was the wrong thing to say as he worries at his lip with his teeth.

“It is,” his voice is gentle as he trails off to find the right word, “unpleasant to be underestimated.”

He casts a glance back towards the bar door. My reply comes out in a hum, nothing more to add. He’s right. Uncomfortable doesn’t cover the half of how it feels. As I let the last of my guilt fester under my skin, he half-shuffles in place.

Another cold wind brushes past my neck, bringing a tantalizing, tempting little thought to the forefront of my mind. The drink giving me just enough confidence to follow through. “Speaking of research,” I smirk despite myself, “I’m heading back to the academy. Want to hear the latest?”

He nods, eyes positively alight. “Yes, although, perhaps, I was hoping—would you like to see our prototype?”

“Viktor, of course,” I laugh.

 ***

I catch him up on my research on the walk over, fighting back the utterly childish urge to go giddy at the way he listens. Eyes wide, fervently nodding at each development. When we finally reach the lab, Viktor fishes out a key, a soft smile as he holds the door open.

Stepping through, I let myself take it all in. For once. I’ve been here before, many times, though usually only ever on quick drop-ins between meetings. I’ve never bothered to look at the details.

It’s cleaner than one would expect, a long workbench lining the wall perpendicular to the door. Well, at least left side was utterly spotless. The other had books and notes and boxes scattered atop the workbench. Not messy, just lived-in. At the center of the room held a device—near identical to the prototype showcased the year prior at the Distinguished Innovators Competition. This one, however, appears to be slightly larger, now holding slots for multiple crystals in the chamber.

“This is terrible for your eyes, Viktor,” I tease. It was dark this time of night, only a little a light filtering through the central window.

He laughs, “I believe I can survive a little dark.”

He walks towards the device, elegant fingers plucking two of the crystals out of the slot, leaving just one. They’re placed gingerly in a box atop the table.

“We have successfully localized the effects,” he explains as I join him, standing at his side, “and can, effectively, control the velocity and distance of transportation.”

He turns down one of the nobs with one hand, fiddling with a sequence of runes with the other. I lean in, watching carefully. He moves with a practiced ease. Turning towards me, he asks, “Ready?”

I let out a soft yes, and watch as the device sparks to life, pulling the very breath from my lungs.

Viktor watches with a cheeky grin. He plucks a screw from his pocket, tapping it through the air. There’s a shock of blue light, and it lands on the floor three feet ahead with a rattling clink.

“How does it work?” I step forward, rounding the device to see it from the side.

“Theoretically, the runes open a path as the very fabric of existence folds in. Letting the object slip through,” he turns the nob up a hair and I find myself feeling a little lighter. He sends another screw through, this one landing against the door with a plink.

“Wow.”

He beams, turning the machine off with a shrug. The picture of faux nonchalance. His eyes scan the blackboard across the room as he speaks, “there is still much to figure out—augmenting payloads, for example...”

I watch as he trails off, a kernel of a thought sparking behind his eyes. He staggers forward to the blackboard, scribbling corrections to the long equation across it. I follow, pulling up a chair to watch as he works.

Moments stretch into minutes and, brilliance aside, playing the voyeur to the genius can only stay entertaining for so long. As my eyes rake across his form shamelessly, my thoughts turn from vague investment to something far more interesting. The slope of his shoulders—all lean muscle with a vague indication of an angular blade, sharp and pleasing peeking from beneath his shirt. I imagine how it would feel beneath my fingertips. Better still, my lips.

I cough, sputtering. Thankfully, my reeling goes unnoticed as he mulls his problem, tapping the chalk against his mouth, a white mark left in its wake just beside his mole. Hesitant to leave, I curl up, pulling out my own notebook to work. Greedy.

We stay like this for quite some time. It’s comforting. The room silent save for the occasional hum, the rare rustle of the other shifting, both lost in thought. It isn’t until my eyelids start drooping that I decide to take my leave.

“Vik,” I yawn, “I’m going to head out.”

He comes back to his body with a hushed ah, standing a little straighter as he turns back my way. His cheeks flush. “My apologies,” he clears his throat, “I have a bad habit of losing myself.”

I shake my head, smiling as I crack the door open. “No need. It was nice, Viktor.”

As I step out he calls my name, eyes warm as he watches me go with a gentle, “goodnight.”

It becomes a ritual of ours over the next few weeks. Not every night, but most. At first, he comes to collect me, dropping by my lab after the academy halls have grown quiet.

“At the very least, come work where there is a little comfort,” he urges.

He does have a couch. One that I’m positive Jayce insisted they procure after one too many late nights spent in the lab. I don’t point out the irony. Instead, I follow.

Most nights, I find my way there on my own as the sun sets. With my journals and materials in tow, I curl up, making a little home atop that very couch.

Tonight, he sits in front of the window, the warm glow of the sun highlighting the edges of his hair, liquid gold streaming into the room. His fingers twirl at the hair behind his ear, long legs elegantly crossed—an ankle atop his braced knee.

The echo of his partner fill the room in errant scraps of paper and discarded coffee mugs, though our paths seldom cross.

“Doesn’t Jayce ever work late?” I ask.

“Eh, Jayce is usually quite good at keeping a healthy schedule.” There’s no hint of judgment or resentment there. Only a quiet understanding and that ever-present undercurrent of admiration.

My pen taps against the page.

“Did you two ever..?” I start, wincing as the words exit my mouth.

Viktor straightens a little, turning to look at me. “Date? Yes,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“Didn’t work out?”

“Eh, that depends entirely on how you define ‘working out,’” he shrugs, shifting his notebook to his lap to write as we speak.

I blink at him from across the room, completely at a loss for what to say.

He continues, “eh, it was short lived. When we first started working together. We quickly discovered we wanted different things and our research was too important to risk.”

I hum, skeptical, “that’s rather rational.”

He looks up at me, eyes guarded as he speaks, “he is my partner, our relationship is not something I’d jeopardize willingly.”

Noted. It’s a fair statement but one laced with a hint of warning. I’m not sure of what, exactly.

I cross my legs, head tilting as I continue to poke the proverbial bee’s nest, “no friends with benefits, then?”

Viktor scoffs, smirking as he returns to his notes, “no, Jayce cannot handle something like that. Cleaner to stay partners.”

“And you can?” My brow arches, “handle it, I mean.”

“Yes,” he says, voice smooth and confident, not even bothering to up from the page. So he had then. Maybe does still? As if clairvoyant, his pen pauses against the page as the cogs whir in his mind, clarifying, “not that I have for quite some time.”

I chew on my lip. Interesting.

***

Our steady ritual proves to be the most productive I’ve been in my life to date. Something about the quiet warmth of another while I work, freeing my mind of that constant need to be present, on guard. Safety. I wonder if Viktor feels the same.

Still, it can only do so much. I hit a wall with my research. Humming, I tap my pen against my notes. It’s the third night I find myself stuck on this problem: Tetrachromis fluviatilis, more commonly known as Shimmercale. A clear keystone in the Pilt with a population on a steady decline. Despite more than enough food to eat. No disease present. No reason to poach them. They simply... vanish.

There’s little impact my work can have without understanding the cause.

My eyes float up to Viktor, who is hunched over the workbench once more. A half-constructed model plane lays on the table. One arm curls around his chest, fingers prodding at his shoulder as he rotates it in the socket.

A quiet wince has me standing up, walking over.

I press my hand to the nape of his neck, warm beneath my fingertips. He stills, looking up at me.

“Shh,” I coo, turning his head to face forward, as I replace the hand at his shoulder with my own.

“What are— ah,” he lets out a soft noise as my thumbs connect with his shoulder, smoothing out the knots in his muscle with a light touch. His sigh is stilted.

“This ok?” I breathe.

He nods, his voice tight, “Yes.”

I continue, pressing a little deeper, drinking in every little response. Once-taught muscles relax, turning him into putty in my hands. His neck hangs forward, giving me better access, as his breathing picks up.

I can feel the faint vibration of the hushed, rumbling groan that slips from his lips.

We both still. Just for a moment.

I let out a satisfied hum, and leans back, head tilting up until the back of his head rests against my stomach. His eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded as he watches me. I press my thumb into the space where his neck and shoulder meet, and his breath hitches, arching towards my touch. Another ragged gasp is tears from his throat as I repeat the motion, my other hand dipping forward, tracing the hint of collarbone poking out from beneath his shirt. With a hungry gaze, I watch his lips. Softly parted, panting. Like a man starved, desperate for air.

Oxygen.

My hands still.

He blinks, eyebrows pinch together.

“Air,” I hiss, letting him go.

His whine is downright pained as he watches me rush to grab my notebook, bringing it over to the bench. I scramble into the chair beside him, rambling. “They’re dying out. I haven’t been able to figure out why but—it’s oxygen, Viktor.”

The confusion melts away as I speak, eyes lighting up. He leans in, his hand coming to rest along the back of my chair as he reads over my shoulder. I feel the warmth of him enveloping me. It feels right. I rifle through the pages, pausing to tap at the diagram I was searching for.

“They host a type of plankton in their gills. They convert the ammonia in the waters into air, but,” I flip through the pages of my notebook, “see, here. They thrive off of these minerals—which are in excess thanks to all the runoff. The population density rises, as does the byproducts. They’re getting oxygen poisoning.”

He blinks, worrying at his lip, “and reducing runoff would fix this?”

I nod, fervently. “Yes, although that’s rather unlikely. However, there are ways to mitigate it.”

I continue scribbling notes, feeling him watch with keen interest. The time stretches on until, eventually, his head bobs forward. Forehead hitting my shoulder and snapping up again. I turn to see him blinking away the exhaustion. As if watching me write was worth it.

 I smile, “c‘mon, get up.”

He looks up at me blearily, but follows my guidance without a word, letting my lead him with a hand against his back until he’s slumping down onto the couch. His legs stretch out with an automatic yawn before tensing—face pulling into a grimace as his eyes flutter closed. I run my fingers through his hair once, watching the tension melt from his face. Greedy.

“Goodnight,” I whisper, pulling the spare blanket draped across the back of the couch over him.

***

We don’t see each other over the next few days, both buckling down on our own preparations for the symposium. It isn’t discussed. But, the tacit, unspoken understanding is there nonetheless.

On the first night of the weeklong affair, the hallways of the main building of the academy are stuffed to the brim with scholars and scientists. Posters line the edges of the halls—graphs and images, findings from just about any study one could imagine. I fight my way through the thick crowd, keen on nabbing a spot in the back of the auditorium where Jayce and Viktor are scheduled to speak.

Eventually, I succeed. Watching with bated breath as the lights dim, leaving only the stage illuminated. The crowd quiets to a dim murmur as Jayce takes the stage. It’s busier than I anticipated, the rare socialite and politician seated amongst the throngs of scientists.

They certainly brought a crowd.

Predictably, Jayce does the speaking. In fact, I can’t see Viktor at all on the stage. I frown. Eyes scanning the wings for him as Jayce recites the words Viktor had written on previous nights. There are a few modifications here and there but, predominantly, untouched. Save for one part:

Jayce’s voice booms out over the crowd, confident and steady as his walks to the prototype, his speech drawing to a close. He gives an easy smile as he says, “I present the next step in Hextech’s future.”

With a press of the button, the crowd hushes to complete  silence as the air in the center of the stage electrifies. A blue glow fills the auditorium. From the podium, Jayce collects a familiar model plane—Viktor’s, from the night previous—and tosses it through.

It vanishes.

The audience murmurs, questions floating through the crowd.

It’s a voice behind us that answers. Lilting, a little uneven, but with an unexpected air of confidence. “As you can see,” he holds up the model plane, “with this, we are one step closer to becoming the center of trade across all of runeterra.”

The little magician.

He beams up at Jayce, and I laugh as the crowd absolutely loses it. Applause thunders through the room as Jayce steps down from the stage, making his way towards his partner as the poor man is quickly enveloped by dozens of scientists—undoubtedly peppering him with questions. It’s nice. Seeing him be the center of the attention for once. Judging by the warm smile touching Jayce’s eyes, he thinks so as well.

I slip through the crowd towards the exit, craning to catch Viktor’s attention through the cracks of the crowd. Somehow, I succeed, honeyed eyes shining into mine as I mouth well done. His answering glance is part proud, part petrified.  Satiated, I slip out the door.

***

My own presentation, a slot secured by Heimerdinger both to my relief and chagrin, is in a much smaller auditorium on the last day of the symposium. Thank the gods. A short speech to summarize and, hopefully, intrigue investors. Terrifying nonetheless. I pick at the skin around my nails as I run over my cards for the 50th time today from the wings.

As the speaker before me finishes, I stumble forward to the podium.

It’s bizarre distilling down mountains of research into a ten-minute talk. I operate on autopilot alone. It goes by faster than I imagine, and I’m finishing the last of my well-rehearsed words. The applause is subdued as I take my leave. I’m distantly aware of Haynes fuming from his seat in the front row. Heimer is there, as well, with a satisfied look gracing his features. He’s proud, I realize. I must have done well enough, then.

I nod his way as I step down, walking along the wall of the auditorium as the next speaker takes the stage. Towards the back, I see Viktor and Jayce leaning against the wall. Jayce leans to whisper something into his partner’s ear, his right hand squarely resting on Viktor’s back. I resist the urge to fiddle with my top as I approach.

Viktor murmurs my name, “you did well.”

Jayce’s hand slides from Viktor’s back to shake mine, “you’ll have no trouble securing funding at tonight’s party.” Before I can reply, he gives Viktor an overt look, knowing and coy, as he steps back, “I’ll see you there.”

Viktor gawks back at him, annoyance written across his face clear as day.

“Thanks,” I mutter, bringing Viktor’s attention back to me.

He shifts, nodding. “Will we? See you there.“

“If I can get changed in time, yes,” I laugh. There was plenty of time. I should have just said yes. I dig the toe of my shoe into the carpet.

“Good,” his eyes slide around the room as he leans in to whisper, “we’ll introduce you to some of our investors.”

Part of me wants to deny him, say I can network just fine without the support, thank you.

“I know,” he says, ever the mind-reader, “however, you’ll do well to remember: you have an uphill battle. And, to be honest, you’ll find some of our investors less likely to be scared off by your choice of locale.”

I swallow. Right. Investors of his must have been able to make peace with his own background, though his work was much more tantalizing. A different circumstance entirely.

“You have the backing of multiple counselors,” I cock my brow at him.

“As will you,” his smirk is downright filthy as he speaks, “go, get dressed.”

I gulp.

***

The ballroom is elegant and frankly overwhelming. I blink up at the chandeliers littering the ceiling, filling the room with a warm, intimate glow. The crowd, however, is anything but intimate. So many people are stuffed in this single room I find myself asking if this really was invite only as the hosts claimed.

Nonetheless, Nathan is quick to find me. Coming stand at my side, I imagine he’s eager to use me as an excuse to rub elbows with Piltover’s finest. He presses a chaste kiss to my cheek, “your speech was good.”

“Thanks,” I say, resisting the urge to wince. I can’t say I attended his.

I fetch a glass of wine from one of the servers as they pass. Nathan’s fills the dead air, droning on about the different talks he attended, who he’s met, who might give him funding. I half-listen, scanning the room for a familiar face.

It’s not a face that I find, but a familiar mop of wavy hair instead. My breath catches as I take him in. Oh I really would like to scream. He’s traded his usual uniform for a suit: black as night and perfectly tailored. Gold piping lines the seams, highlighting just how lithe he really is. A burgundy collar pops out from beneath his jacket. He looks dark, dangerous.

The rotten, malformed part of me chants delectable.

He turns, eyes catching mine and, a moth to flame, I float forward. I’m vaguely aware Nathan is following. Judging by the way his eyes ice over as he spot my companion, Viktor is too. This won’t do. Viktor walks toward me, meeting us in the middle. Thankfully, he is in fine company, meaning Nathan quickly extricates himself from my side to chat with one of the councilors. Not even bothering to greet Viktor, who stared daggers at his retreating back.

Viktor turns towards me, eyes raking down my form before looking back towards the group. He mouth quirks down, “your date?”

“No,” I breathe, “I came alone.”

His mouth twitches, but he schools his feature into a neutral position. “I see.”

I imagine I look much like a fish out of water, mouth gaping and working to reclaim the air that seems to have left my lungs. “You look good,” I finally manage.

There’s another quirk of his lip threatening to betray him before he turns, holding his arm out. I take it. Of course I take it. He’s warm beneath my fingers.

He leans down, whispering in my ear. “I believe I promised some introductions.”

I nod, looking up at him. I brush my hair behind my ear on instinct. He lets out a short, low laugh and my heart picks up. Turning towards the group, he points against the ground with his cane—a tap to the right. My eyes follow.

I feel his breath ghost along my skin as he dips down to speak once more, voice low and dangerous, “Silas Thorne, one of our early adopters. A bit of a skeptical man; but, ultimately a fine topsider.”

I nod, taking it in. As best as possible, at least. I huff a laugh at the slip of the term topsider. An insult rarely uttered in Piltover.

“House Kiramman, as you are aware. You’ll find an ally in Cassandra,” he continues, his lips brushing my skin as he speaks, “To the left, Holloran.. Mh, not worth your time.”

My breath is drawn from my lungs as he continues rattling off names. I blink, nodding, until he peels back at last.

He looks down at me, mouth pulled into a wicked grin.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t have you pegged as so socially adept,” I say.

His eyes crease, head tilting as he shrugs. “Eh, for me, it’s a matter of survival. Or, was. Before Jayce and Hextech.”

I swallow, frowning.

So much laid bare in just a few words. Despite everything, it is far too easy to forget what he’s been through. What he’s had to tolerate to get where he is. And to say it so readily, the picture of nonchalance. As if it’s just another basic fact of life. I’m still reeling as he asks, “ready?”

My dress suddenly feels much too tight. Seams clinging against my ribs keeping the air from my lungs. I blink, looking up at Viktor as I nod, “sure.”

His hand finds the small of my back; his touch a warm, soothing balm on my stuttering heart.

He leads me to Cassandra’s side first, easily slotting into the group as he introduces us.

Her eyes light up, putting pieces of some unspoken puzzle together as she shakes my hand, “Jayce tells me have a rather interesting project. Habitat restoration of the river Pilt?”

“In the distributaries in the undercity, yes. Though I hope to renew the Pilt itself one day, perhaps.”

This seems to please her, her chin tilting up as she smiles, “your research is actionable, then.”

I nod. I’m fairly certain I look like a bobble head.

“Have you secured funding yet?”

“Not quite,” I chew at my lip, shifting my weight to my other foot. My shoulder brushes against Viktor’s chest. It’s steadying.

He gaze is shrewd as she asks, “tell me. Why the undercity?”

I stick to my canned argument, citing the economic benefits for Piltover—trade, fishing, health. She takes it in, with a look that says she can already read the subtext written beneath every page: to help, to do something worthwhile for the betterment of us all.

These conversations repeat throughout the night. A monotonous refrain of the same questions. How interesting, why the undercity? Who is financing? Why there? Somewhere along the evening Viktor has drifted away, standing beside Jayce as they speak with Heimerdinger. He listens to them speak, a gentle curve to his eyes as he looks down at the Yordle.

When the conversation with my last magnate of the evening has grown stale, I gracefully make my exit. Eager to join my friend’s side.

Nathan, however, stops me with a hand at my shoulder. I suppress the instinct to sigh, facing him.

“You’re the popular girl tonight,” he smirks.

My stomach turns. I give him a tight-lipped smile, “hardly.”

He presses forward, invading my space, “have I told you how gorgeous you are tonight?”

I look away as I mutter, “thanks.”

While we had dated on rare occasions, my interest in him waned as it became clear that it would never delve into anything more interesting than superficial sex and the occasional date for social events. Nothing particularly worth going back for. I thought we’d had a tacit agreement on this. However, it appears I am wrong.

I glance over to Viktor, who watches the exchange with a ferocity that was utterly rare. His upper lip curls, narrowed eyes looking at us from beneath stark brows. As his eyes land on me, they burn. Annoyance mixed with something else. My breath hitches.

Nathan, it seems, misinterprets this entirely. Catching me by the elbow, he leans in to whisper, “how about we get out of here?”

I choke.

Viktor shifts more of his weight to his cane, head tilting back as he stares.

“No,” I stutter, “I, ah.. No. Sorry.”

I don’t look back as I walk off, face flaring up. Undignified. I’ll blame the drink later, should it come up.

Like gravity, I’m pulled to Viktor’s orbit. He smirks, wicked and cruel as he glares past my shoulder as I approach. There’s a glint to his amber eyes and my mouth runs dry as he muses, “hm, I almost feel bad for him.”

I gape, floundering. Utterly thrown by this fresh side of him. I can feel the heat from his gaze as he waits for me to reply.

Nothing worthwhile comes to mind as I croak, “almost?”

His stare is knowing, but he chooses to ignore my reply. I note a flush on his skin as he sets his emptied glass down, leaning in, and I’m keenly aware that whatever his next words are, they will be my damnation.

I’m saved by Cassandra’s hand atop my shoulder. I turn, letting out a shaky exhale as I greet her once more.

Her elegant hands pass me a card as she cuts right to the heart of it, “I’d like to sponsor you,” she says, certainly not one for mincing words, “Let’s arrange some time to speak over tea. Soon.”

It’s exceptionally jarring, considering.

I feel Viktor’s chest at my back as he peers over my shoulder. A little off-kilter, and less-than-dignified. Nosy. Certainly the wine, then. I swallow, taking the card from her hands. One side holds her family emblem foiled in gold, the other a pneumatic code.

I nod, “yes, yes of course. I’ll be in touch.”

She gives another smile, nodding to Viktor as well before taking her leave.

My head thoroughly spins. Between the wine and the complete, utter whiplash of the last few minutes, it’s all far too much.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” I croak.

Viktor smirks at me in a way that screams, ‘you won’t die, you dramatic girl.’ Charitably, however, he does not voice it. Instead opting to loop his arm through mine as he speaks lowly, “let’s get some air, hm?”

I follow, clutching to his arm like my own personal lifeline. He leads me out the banquet hall, to a hall equally as grand. Tall windows line the entire exterior wall, each tucked into an alcove. To the right lays the exit. We take the left. Towards the end of the hall, he guides me into an alcove, hand sliding from my skin to unlatch the window, cracking it open.

The air is crisp, grounding. Moreso are has hands finding their way to my shoulders, thumbs drawing an idle path to sooth my stumbling pulse.

“She wants to sponsor me,” I breathe at last.

He beams down at me, “yes. I anticipate more will follow.”

I rub my face, “one is more than enough, gods, Viktor, I—“ I swallow, looking up at him, “thank you.”

His mouth parts, brows pinching. “No need, you did—“

“Viktor,” I urge, “let me give you the credit you’re due.”

That seems to strike a chord. His brows raise, and he swallows thickly. Nodding, hesitant as he whispers, “you’re welcome.”

His hands find a strand of my hair, twirling it with his fingers as I so often see him do to his own as he works. There’s a far off look in his eye as he stares at the motion. He swallows, coming back to me with a slight nod of his head. An answer to some unspoken question.

“You did well,” he says at last, amber eyes glinting before falling to my mouth.

He takes a step closer.

“You did, too,” I exhale, “I never got to say.”

He lets out a gentle huff of a laugh, “I said a single line.”

He watches me carefully, looking for any sign of hesitation as he steps closer, closing the gap. He smells of tea and aluminum and him. My heart races, every nerve standing on end.

“Viktor,” I say. Not a warning, but a prayer.

One he hears.

He swallows, harsh and hard as his head dips down, pressing my back against the alcove wall. He halts, lips hovering above mine as our breath mixes in the gap between, letting out a whisper of my name. I gasp it in like air. I could subsist off my name on his lips alone.

His hand slides up from my shoulder, ghosting along my collarbone, my neck, my jaw—until my face is nestled securely within the palm of his hand. He swipes at my cheekbone with his thumb, tilting my head back.

I let out a noise—strangled and sharp and desperate. Once honeyed eyes are now blown black, fluttering closed as he dips down until I can just, just feel the warmth of his lips. I crane my head, chasing after it.

His hand at my neck holds me put. Letting out a ragged breath, pressing every inch of his body against mine.  It’s not nearly enough.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for quite some time,” he muses, voice far too even for my liking.

A thumb swipes across my lower lip, and I shudder. Another shaky breath against my skin—whisky and wine and want—before he’s closing the gap. Pulling me into a kiss so searing I’m sure I’ll burn up right then and there.

I whine into his mouth, and I am rewarded with hands falling to my hips, pulling me sharply against him. My own hands tangle into the soft curls of his hair and I could cry. I tug, pulling his mouth off mine. He pants, looking down at me with wild eyes.

“As good as you imagined?” I smirk.

He groans, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of my mouth, “better.”

I gasp as he pressing another searing kiss along the bend of my jaw, stopping at the juncture. “Like honey.”

His leg slots between mine, pulling me against his thigh as he presses his lips against my ear. “I wonder where else you taste so sweet, hm?”

I whine, my fingers scrambling for purchase in his jacket and hair. Teeth nip at my ear, tongue darting out to sooth at my skin before he whispers, “you must be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

I nod, a frantic little motion. He lets out a rumbling laugh as his lips trail down my neck. I shudder with each kiss. He mouths at the juncture of my neck, and I bite back a moan, hips rolling against his thigh instinctively. Desperate for friction. His thumb is sharp against my hipbone, pulling me down harder.

“Good girl,” he smiles against my skin. His hand trails down my neck, to my collarbone, down to the edge of my neckline—gliding along the seam, finding their way back up to the strap. A calculated flick and it’s falling down my shoulder.

He chases after with his mouth, guiding my hips to roll against him as the cup of my dress slips downward. He mouths at every inch of the newly exposed skin. The crest of my breast, the soft dip between. My head swims, eyes fluttering closed. The feel of his soft hair the only thing left tethering me to this plane. A thumb brushes across my nipple, followed by his tongue. I gasp, and he stills.

My eyes blink open as I pant down at him, watching. Rapt. Judging by the sinful smile he gives me, he’s well aware the picture he paints below—wild hair tangled between my fingers, his lips wrapped around the peak of my breast.

“Quiet,” he reminds me, hand rising to press flat against my lips. I whine, grateful, nodding.

Distant laughter stops him, he lets out a sigh as he stands, chest pressing to mine. His hand rights my dress as his arm comes to rest against the wall. Propping himself up.

I roll my hips, shamelessly in search of friction.

He smirks, dipping down to whisper, “mh, you’re desperate, aren’t you? You want me to touch you right here in this hall?”

I shudder, “please.”

His laugh is low and sinful, heat coiling in my core as his fingernails rake down my thigh.

“Not here,” he purrs, “not like this.”

It’s full of promise.

A familiar voice calls our names from the other end of the hall. Heimerdinger’s. And it’s a bucket of ice water across us both. He groans against my ear before standing, leaning to grab his cane from its resting spot against the window.

“More benefactors,” he says with a lopsided grin, breath still uneven.

I let out a soft laugh as my hands glide up to fuss at his collar, smoothing it down in place beneath his jacket. His eyes are gentle as his own fingers card along my hair, righting it. He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, whispering, “come, let’s go.”

A/N: Viktor kinda (really) fucks, y'all. And really likes parallel play apparently lol. I'm a little proud of the somewhat dubious science in this once, tbh.

[mrclairdycat]

Jayvik Headcanons! ٩( ᐛ )( ᐖ )۶

(You can use these for your fics, art or whatever, I don't mind! Tell me or tag me if you do though 'cause I'd love to see it/read it.)

Jayce is naturally good with kids. Viktor is awkward with them, but for some reason the kids love him. They often want touch or try his cane or ask curious questions and their parents deem it as disrespectful, but he always assures them they can and gladly lets them. He also loves to say playful lies like "Actually don't tell anybody this but I've acquired the powers to teleport. I just have to act like a normal human being among the public." Or, better yet, he tells them he's actually an alien. HOWEVER... Viktor hates newborns. He hates when he's forced to cradle them in his arms. Too much slobber, shit and vomit. You can't even talk to them and know there's some kind of understanding between you and them. Jayce, on the other hand, could have a baby shart in his arms and still be like "awww!" He also loves to play with them theatrically.

Viktor is a HUGE Doctor Who fan. It's basically all he ever watches. Jayce is more of a Holiday Movies guy or series with Comedy, Romance or both, especially soap operas, but he was once forced to watched Doctor Who and now he's hooked too.

Jayce is the only one who finds Viktor's dry and dark humor, especially directed at himself, funny. He finds it so refreshing since posh people's humor is extremely boring. Plus, he understands that Viktor would prefer making light of his bad situation to cope and it's not his place to tell him what to joke and not joke about.

Although they mostly lock in and work hard all night in the lab, the sleep deprivation makes them find ANYTHING funny. Sometimes they end up in an endless loop of laughing fits because both of them are so sleep deprived they can't properly say words anymore.

Speaking of, they probably share all their deepest secrets on a whim but don't remember anything the next day, as if they were totally drunk or something.

Also, they cover each other up if they find one of them has fallen asleep. Often times, however, Viktor finds himself magically spawning in his bed. He never thought much about it, figuring he was so exhausted he probably doesn't remember going home, when in reality it was Jayce that carried him home to make sure his body wouldn't be in pain in the morning.

When Viktor is mad at Jayce he abuses that disabled card. Sometimes he publically humiliates him by pretending he's a bad person that doesn't help his disabled friend with anything. In reality, if he tried to pick something that fell for him, he would be met with the smack of his cane.

Speaking of, acts of service is Jayce's way of flirting. He's an extrovert, but he's not confident at all. He never says his feelings first, just acts especially nice towards someone with numerous gifts, praise and help. Viktor thought he was just being ableist.

Again, speaking of, Viktor is more of a words of affirmation guy. However, when they got together, they have scheduled days within the week where Viktor HAS to accept help and be spoiled. He knows its Jayce's love language by now, so, even if he finds it condescending, he's happy to let him have those days to let it all out.

Sometimes Jayce presents Viktor a complex equation because he loves seeing him explain how to solve it. He just loves listening to him yap.

Viktor has a secret passion for astronomy. Can name you every star. Jayce has a secret passion for birdwatching. Can name you every bird. He'd also love falconry. Tbh he adores animals in general.

Viktor despises Astrology. Jayce loves it. He likes to piss him off by saying "You're acting like your sign right now."

Jayce loves pop and reggaeton, meanwhile Viktor thinks classical music is superior to anything else. He especially listens to it because it is scientifically proven it helps with focus. He hates when he wakes up in the morning to him cleaning and blasting El Taxi or something.

Viktor also loves theatre musicals. His favorites are Ride the Cyclone, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. He also loves plays like Hamlet or live orchestras.

Jayce is very good at cooking thanks to his mom's teachings. Plus he just really enjoys it. Viktor is the type who finds it a chore and eats only because he has to (he doesn't even do that most days). Jayce often brings extra food when he packs lunch so Viktor can have some too :) he also loves to cook for him.

Jayce is naturally good at dancing. Adores Just Dance and group dances (Viktor always wins Just Dance without even moving his legs). Viktor is naturally good at playing instruments. He likes to focus on what his hands can do so he can feel better about his bad leg.

Jayce loves head massages and scritches. He's a sucker for physical touch. Viktor likes to give him that while he's reading notes or a book.

Jayce is a dog person who has no problems with cats. Viktor is a cat person who kinda hates dogs since they drool all over the place and lick his face.

Viktor never cries, but when he does it's GUT wrenching because of all the bottled up emotions. Jayce, on the other hand, cries for absolutely anything, especially movies. He could see a child with their mom on a random stroll and shed tears saying "they're so happy :("

Ximena (Jayce's mom) adores Viktor. He always tells Jayce to invite him over whenever they can so he can spend less time alone and even encourages him to sleep over. She just can't bare the thought of someone's baby struggling on their own and not being taken care of.

Jayce mostly overthinks when he's trying to fall asleep. The silence is always broken by him spiraling saying things like "do you think I'm annoying?" simply for a stranger not responding after he complimented them or something. The thought of someone hating him drives him insane. He wants to be liked by everyone. People pleaser core.

[mossballs-stuff]

arcane music headcanons expect I'm objectively correct

Jinx

Ghost and Pals, Will Wood and the Tapeworms, Mother Mother, Melanie Martinez, Corpse, Set It Off, Poppy Nightcore, Gorillaz, etc.

You know those really bad playlist for characters with like, extremely unfitting songs that have an abnormal amount of Mother Mother in them? Yeah. She's the one making those.

If it was a TikTok audio for a Danganronpa cosplayer in 2020 she probably has it on loop

Listens to shitty modern day Hyperpop and it sounds like ASS

She listened to a undertale fansong nightcore cover on her school Chromebook and it genuinely changed her life for the worst. She was on Wattpad with Angel with a Shotgun BLASTING through her skull candy earbuds she stole off of a kid.

She's never been to a concert and that's for everyone's sake. She would have the absolutely worst concert etiquette to ever exist.

Once she matures she becomes an IPC diehard. She is at a Juggalo concert with her shirt off throwing Fuego and probably getting pulled over after.

Vi

Twenty One Pilots, Hozier, Florence and The Machine, Weezer, The Smiths, Ghost, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Queen, System of a Down, Nancy Sinatra, etc

She says she's not a big music fan and that she just listens to whatever's on the radio but that is a lie.

She's not normal about Florence and The Machine. Anytime she's about to have a breakdown she puts Dog Days Are Over on full blast inside her truck. She's been in the top percent of her listeners for 5 years straight now.

She listens to exclusively bands that a guy in a guitar store would brag about listening to saying they were totally indie and no one would know them. She owns a vinyl player. She's not as pretentious, but still.

Hozier is like, the one guy in all of history that she somewhat is attracted to. His music is a borderline religious experience. She went to one of his concerts with Ekko and cried so hard she got sick. As soon as they were in the hotel she chugged a bottle of honey whiskey and passed out. She has not been the same since.

She HATES Jinx's music with like, a genuine passion. She will smack Jinx's hand if she tries to change her music. they are fighting like rabid dogs for who gets the aux cord

Caitlyn

Taylor Swift, Chappel Roan, Mitski, Kate Bush, The Cardigans, The Crane Wives, Sabrina Carpenter. Billie Elish, etc

She's relatively normal about music. Most of the time she just has white noise on whenever she's working. However, if she needs to do a long drive or something and doesn't want to listen to the radio, she WILL be playing all of Taylor Swifts discography

Shes not a Swiftie, but she listens to it enough that she got Jayce into it. She's way more a fan of her older music though.

Most of the music she listens to sounds like breakup music. Like it's always weirdly somber and full of anguish. She will also occasionally listen to a song about family issues and clearly not be okay.

Again, not really a music fan. However, this has not stopped Jayce from seeing her in her car scream-crying to Good Luck Babe. He is so worried for her and she just acted so calm after.

She thinks Vi has such unique tastes and will end up growing to like a lot of Vi's music too. Disgusting. I think they kiss during a Hozier song playing and everyone thinks they're disgusting.

Ekko

Tyler The Creator, Gorillaz, Poor Mans Poison, Los Campesinos, The Oozes, Pavement, AJJ, The Front Bottoms, Jhariah, Jack Stauber, Djo, etc.

The only one with objectively good music tastes in the entirety of this group. He's the kind of person to genuinely mean it when he says he listens to everything. The only music he doesn't really love is modern country, but he fucks heavily with almost everything.

The only artist that's super consistent and someone he actively gets excited for when there's a new release is Tyler the Creator. He enjoys music as an art form rather than something to just listen to, and he loves Tyler's vision and how he makes it an experience.

He listens to a LOT of Legend of Zelda soundtracks. If his favorite video game has a soundtrack he will have that on loop for days. His Spotify Wrapped is consistently fucked because of this.

He took Vi to the Hozier concert because she kept asking and he got into Hozier before she did. He has a video of her drunk-crying in her hotel bed about it. It was genuinely such a magical experience for them both though.

He got Jinx into Gorillaz as a way to try and get her to like. better music. And it backfired so bad. He's the one pushing her to like ICP.

Jayce

Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter, Olivia Rodrigo, Chappel Roan, Charli xcx, Doja Cat, Kesha, Lady Gaga, Ayesha Erotica, Shakira, P!NK. etc

Do NOT take away his basic white girl music he will DIE!!!!!! he will die SO BAD!!!!!

He got into Taylor Swift due to Caitlyn and now he's the bigger Swiftie. Genuinely has started collecting all her albums. He is so obsessed with her music it is a little concerning.

He will blast Juno by Sabrina Carpenter on full blast while working and it annoys the genuine fuck out of Viktor. He is not doing this to annoy him, he's trying to get Viktor to like his kind of music.

Vi has been begging him to listen to literally anything else. Viktor is also begging, but he's starting to give up.

He went to a Sabrina Carpenter concert with Mel and he ended up getting the fuzzy pink handcuffs and he will NEVER stop talking about it. He has them hanging on his wall alongside a picture of him on the screen.

Viktor

The Hoosiers, The Oh Hellos, American Murder Song, The Taxpayers, Poor Mans Poison, Orville Peck, Gene Aubrey, Johnny Cash, Hozier, etc

Again, objectively good music tastes. He tends to listen to old country or folk music. He likes a song that tells a story and has a lot of heart in it.

If you put modern day country on the radio he will die. If he has to listen to a "I LOVE BEER AND TRUCKS" song one more time he's going to throw himself onto the highway full speed. He despises that genre of music more than anything else on the entirety of this Earth.

He is also a huge Hozier fan, and has been since Take Me to Church blew up while he was in his religious guilt era. He went to the same concert as Vi but they didn't know they were there. He cried so hard at that concert he got sick. It was more than a religious experience for him.

He has been trying to get Jayce to listen to Orville Peck or Hozier for MONTHS. He's not allowed Jayce to play his music ever. It's working very slowly.

He thinks about Jayce while listening to Hozier and contemplates ending it all while Jayce is playing BRAT in the lab. Genuinely couldn't be a worse situation for him actually.

Mel

See, I know most will say she would have amazing music tastes but I can't agree. I don't think she cares. She listens to whatever is on the radio. Her Spotify Wrapped is consistently fucked because she uses her phone as a speaker at like parties or during long car rides.

She doesn't have a preference when it comes to music. Her liked playlist of songs is close to 500 and it's just whatever songs anyone has sent her. She will put it on shuffle and get Halls of Illusions by Insane Clown Posse back to back with fucking Someone New by Hozier. It's bad.

She is not paying attention to what she's listening to. She blocks it out so well that she can't really pay attention to it. If she's forced to pick music, it'll just be whatever Jayce has made her listen to in the past week and a half.

She went to a Sabrina Carpenter concert with Jayce purely because she saw all the videos and thought it would be fun. Her and Jayce were dorking out. She could not match his energy though, and she loves him so much but she is never going to a concert with him again.

[w3sternwild]

LOVEFOOL: CHAPTER I

word count: 2.3k

chapter II

It was as if her voice were the steam produced by hot coals and water: thick, heavy, and demanding, dilating the pores of the listeners, entering like poison. Prying their attention from their greedy hands. Each and every member of the audience was transfixed by her, undoubtedly for varying reasons, but nonetheless within her grasp. Some listened to her voice with money on their mind, others contemplating what other talents she may possess beneath that ivory silken dress she wore. Jayce, deep within the audience of patrons and elites, could only stare at the glittering gold that was her left index finger.

Once her performance concluded with a passionate high note, her chest heaving with tired breaths, she bowed courteously, allowing the coy upturn of her lips to take place once again. The guests returned to their conversations, some patting - or even going as far as to grab, as one audacious old man chose to do to gain her attention - her arm to announce how wonderful it was to hear her sing. She thanked them politely in a changed, comparatively small, voice. Timid. 

Jayce found his eyes lingering on her as she nursed a glass of champagne, standing at the edge of the room. He thought she looked fascinating - the kind of beauty that makes you stop and wonder. She seemed to be aware of that, too, because she gave an older patron a darling smile when he approached her, his hand instantly going to rest upon her lower back, exposed with the low cut of her dress, tugging her closer than what could possibly be comfortable. The skin-to-skin contact made her shudder. 

They exchanged conversation for a few minutes, the man uttering words that undoubtedly bored her. But she played along: laughing at his dreadful jokes, batting her eyelashes down at him (he was quite the stubby man), and going as far as to grace her fingertips upon his arm. Her smile never left her face.

It wasn’t until he leaned in to whisper something in her ear did that smile fall. Jayce observed the irritated downturn of her lips, the hateful glint in her eyes, all of which vanished as soon as the man pulled back to gauge her reaction to his purred suggestion. Unsurprisingly, she gave him an enthusiastic nod, speaking something lowly that looked to be an attempt at excusing herself.

Jayce had observed carefully the final moments of her performance: the swift shift in her persona, with the smirk and the timid voice, and eventually the smooth exit onto the balcony. 

These events were always unbelievably stifling. Perhaps because they were Salo’s, and he always made a point to direct the scrutiny of the syndicate to his beloved star. The cool air of the night did provide some relief, evaporating the heat that pooled beneath her skin in silent warning. As did the metal railing of the balcony which she leaned heavily upon, fingers clasping and unclasping in an attempt to gather her ever-crowding thoughts.

She didn’t get to have her burnished little cog with her this evening, the dress she wore providing nowhere to store it without producing a conspicuous outline of it. In spite of this, she did favour this dress, its long sleeves giving them less to touch. She instead had to mimic the movements she’d typically make when turning her cog over in her hands as she thought, disgusted, about having to spend the night with that dumpy man. It was easy to forget the core purpose of her work at times like these, letting anger and frustration fill the hole in her chest. A product of insatiable debt.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one in need of some air.” A voice sounds behind her; it was masculine, smooth, and very pleasing to the ear. Not so much her’s, for an instant, when her face scrunched in a scowl before she turned to glance over her shoulder, preparing to feign interest for the umpteenth time tonight.

The face she was met with, however, made her pause briefly. She had not seen this man in person before, but unbearably often in pictures. This ‘Golden Boy’ was proverbially shoved down her throat at least three times per day. Piltover’s illustrators got a few things right, though: his dark hair, combed through maybe once, twice, before calling it a day and allowing it to do whatever it pleases. Some strands hung over his forehead, although they didn’t get very far for their shortness. His jaw was as strong as depicted, too - nicely squared, covered by a five o’clock shadow that few could pull off with his finesse, she decided. That was as far as illustrations went, however, because they failed in almost every other department, a fact that grew clear with every hesitant step he took further out into the chilled air, “You don’t mind if I join you for a bit?”

She shook her head, having now completely lost the energy to appease anyone with sportive compliments or suggestive stroking-of-arms. He nodded slightly, still evidently unsure, but rested beside her regardless, looking over the impressive view that was Piltover. His apprehension grated on her: if you want to fuck, she thought, spare us both and just say. There was nothing worse than an indirect client: it made the whole process much drier, longer than necessary. This, to her, was work, and whilst she tried her best to make it feel natural and intimate as instructed, her balcony time was purely for her and her only. He disrupted that.

After a few moments of quietly watching him through her peripheral, she posed rather dryly, “Why are you nervous?”

That seemed to trip him because his eyebrows raised in surprise, his mouth opening and quickly closing once again. “I’m not nervous.” He finally decided, though his fingers played with his cuff in what was either habit or in fact nervousness.

She huffed at this, giving him a mildly incredulous look before snapping her stare forward again. “No one here asks for permission for anything.” She countered, gesturing behind her lazily. He couldn’t tell if she was referring to his hesitant entrance or the bustling room of self-important elites in the room a few paces away.

“Being polite doesn’t mean I’m nervous.”

A few beats. “I suppose.”

More silence followed. Jayce was reticently (stubbornly, offendedly) brewing on her accusation and tone, which differed so drastically to how vibrant she appeared on stage. He felt somewhat cheated, something he did not doubt she did intentionally by the way her sharp eyes glanced up at him testingly, lips curved rather sardonically.

“Don’t you have investors to schmooze?” She asked pointedly, an uncomfortable mixture of teasing and accusation within her voice. 

Jayce elected to take it as the former, and replied by turning slightly to rest his side and elbow upon the railing to face her properly, “‘I think I've done about as much schmoozing as I can handle tonight.”

She pursed her lips, nodding slowly as if she were taking extra care to comprehend every syllable. “Has the Golden Boy lost his shine?”

The early traces of a grin developed at her words and he groaned a little, “God, I hate that nickname.” His hand came up to pinch his brow.

She looked over him, observing the light mauve colour of his lips, which were fairly full and rather downturned at the corners. When he removed his hand to look at her, she realised the illustrations did not and have never done his eyes justice. She thought they were interesting, like molten pools of honey or melted butter - light and warm, nice to swim in. His mouth opened to speak, and it was then she was so kindly displayed with the sharp point of his canines, the tip of white that appeared as he spoke, and the obscure but charming gap between his two upper front teeth. “I've heard some of the other guests calling you their ‘Golden Songbird’. They love you up there.” 

She cracked a smile, turning once again to look at the city before them, her right finger going to trace the golden intricacies of that of her left absentmindedly. She looked down at it, as did Jayce (with great curiosity but not wanting to offend her if he asked about it). Her whole index finger was gone, extending from her wrist an aureate contraption that assembled at the stump of her finger, extending to form the shape of what she lacked. Decorating it were little floral designs, curling their way up the prosthetic. “I can’t say the feeling is entirely mutual.”

“Well, then, I suppose some hearts are bound to be broken.”

“Bold of you to assume they have hearts to break.” Jayce chuckled at this, nodding lightly in agreement. She, on the other hand, couldn’t understand why she had admitted that in the first place. Why she had assumed he was not as vile as some of the elites were.

There was a comfortable lull in their conversation for a few moments before he spoke again, “Your voice - it really does sound magnificent.” He cringed internally at how pathetic he sounded, and with all his intelligence he chose to add, “I’ve never heard anything like it.” 

He could tell she was growing more and more resolute in her belief that he was entirely airheaded.

Her eyebrows raised in a soft, cynical furrow. Stupid. “That’s very kind of you.” She said rather tightly, and any sort of rapport that had been flimsily constructed between them was kindly shattered, her next words cutting, “Councillor Talis, I’m not the greatest fan of euphemisms.” 

It was his turn for his brows to draw inwards, more out of confusion than anything, “I’m sorry?”

She leaned slightly closer, her eyes steady upon his. She was about a head shorter than him, but twice as abundant in wrath when vocalising her thoughts from before, “If you want to fuck, all you have to do is ask.” 

It was at this Jayce realised that the person she was inside the gala hall was much, much different to who she was when she stepped outside. 

His surprise shot his eyebrows up his forehead, disbelieving of her crudeness and somewhat offended she’d think so lowly of him. He settled his expression, hoping his composure would show his sincerity, although he couldn’t help the faint incredulous smirk on his lips, “I didn’t come out here for sex, Miss.”

Her expression fell - not in disappointment but surprise - her eyes lighting up with a particular curiosity, “Then why are you out here?”

“Needed some air.” He repeated frankly, though not without a hint of teasing within his tone.

She opened her mouth to retort, a taunting smile forming on her lips to accuse him of lying, but she was harshly interrupted.

“There’s my star! What a gorgeous performance you gave us.” A shrill voice joined them, sickly sweet and recognisable, along with the call of what Jayce assumed to be her name. She muttered something he could not hear under her breath, releasing a shaky sigh. Salo sauntered through the glass doorframe, his red coat billowing out behind him with the new breeze, his arms open and inviting, if that was possible. His eyes flicked over to Jayce, who straightened himself defensively, almost habitually. “Councillor,” Salo nodded to him, “I see the two of you have met.”

There was something sour on Jayce’s tongue, like he’s involved himself in an interaction in which he is not remotely wanted. He glanced down at his “star” beside him, taking in her increasingly stiffened posture, her hands clasped in front of her formally. She did not look up at him, eyes trained on something interesting on the stone floor a few metres from her, despite being very much able to feel his gaze on her. “Yes,”  he affirmed, looking back up to Salo, “Turns out she’s just as good at talking as she is at singing.” 

She wanted to scoff, and did in her mind, but the feeling of Salo’s icy glare pinned her to where she was, glued her mouth shut. She hated what he had done to her, molded her into something small, something weak. Salo smiled cordially, Is that so?, his eyes said. He hummed, clicking his tongue in faux disappointment, “Well, I am deeply sorry, but I need to borrow her for a few moments. Is that okay with you, Talis?” It was not a question. 

Her legs moved without needing much instruction as they pulled her towards Salo and his vaguely open, beckoning arms. He placed his hand heavily on her shoulder, leaning to give her a searing smile to which she responded with a forced one of her own. “Have a pleasant evening.” Salo said with a curt nod, all but pulling her with him as they retreated back to the bright luxury of the gala. She could hardly get out her faint “Goodnight” before she was tugged away.

Salo cast the man behind him a glance of admonition, warning him of something he couldn’t quite decipher, but he knew for sure was something dangerous.

Jayce was left standing there with an immense frown upon his face. The distinct, sudden switch between the woman he spoke to alone to who she was with Salo deeply unsettled him. Granted, she wasn’t particularly amiable when they had been speaking, but there were instances when he thought he was winning her over, at least a little.

But Jayce, much too determined for his own good, was resolute in finding out what was the cause of such a shift in demeanour.

Note: Thank you so much for reading, I hope this was okay. Let me know if you want a chapter 2, or if you have any questions or feedback send me an ask!

[milkymora]

✧ arcane women - childhood headcanons ✧

note: got a little emotional while writing this but what can i do. missing arcane like a mf. everything is sfw obv, cts of pictures used to their respective owners on pinterest. characters: vi, jinx, caitlyn, mel, sevika.

⟢ vi.

vander always listened to old rock songs. it was the same 4 ones on repeat, one of them being “god of thunder” by kiss. he’d exaggerate his singing just to make her laugh, and it always worked, until she learnt the lyrics as well: blowing, together, felicia’s eardrums.

felicia understood vi liked girls when she was 5 yo. how? simply because the little menace vi was, would suddenly go quiet, shy and a little red even, when met by a girl she thought was cute. she would talk quietly and try to befriend them by timidly sharing her toys, just to go to her mom later on and tell her how pretty her new friend was.

she always included powder when she went to play with other kids. little pow was always the youngest and sometimes the other kids would be mean to her, because she didn’t understand games rules and couldn’t play well. however that’d happen only once, because vi wouldn’t allow it a second time.

⟢ jinx.

used to get sick so easily. always with a runny nose, a fever or cough. vander would spend hours cooking recipes for her; and he would always manage to make them taste good and look appetizing, chopping veggies in star or heart shapes, or adding anything that could make it look cute to a child’s eyes. and it worked! she would always eat it.

she was very scared of the dark and struggled to sleep some nights. that’s when vi would tell her bed time stories she’d create on the spot, or sing her their mother’s lullabies, until she’d fall asleep.

when she was learning how to write, she’d exercise writing little love letters for vander and vi. though she would always spell vander wrong, writing it “vinder” because she’d get confused, mixing the two names.

⟢ cait.

she had all kinds of toys, from dolls to mini, plastic shotguns. cassandra absolutely hated the latters, however there was no denying little cait adored playing with them way more than the dolls. she would always annoy her with it when she was working.

she didn’t really have any friends growing up, aside from jayce. she was either studying (yes, she was home schooled) or training her shots with older enforcers. she didn’t mind being alone, but when jayce became her friend she realized how good it was for her. jayce allowed her to vent a lot, about anything.

cassandra was always overprotective of her, mainly showing her tough love and giving her restrictions on basically everything, yet... there were a few times where the two of them had tender moments, like when caitlyn playfully wore her mother’s wedding dress for fun and cassandra actually got so emotional she teared up.

⟢ mel.

always a quiet girl, with her nose buried in her books. historical ones precisely; her mother made her passionate about history, telling her all kinds of fun facts about the places she’d been at, making her curiosity bloom into a desire for knowledge of the past that made her devour hundredths of books during her childhood (and teenage hood).

another passion she had was art. as we’re shown on the show, mel can paint. that’s because she’s always done it since she was a child, one of the many things ambessa wasn’t fond of. nevertheless, her mother’s disapproval never stopped her from continuing her hobby, that is one of the things that make her feel best when doing it. ambessa ended up giving in and actually enjoying her works, finding a way to get one and put it on her chamber’s wall.

had an amazing relationship with her brother kino. both him and her were very similar, interests and personality wise, so it became a habit to find comfort in the other when one was not feeling okay. they always knew which words to use.

⟢ sevika.

she was actually pretty timid as a child. she hated fighting and seeing others fight, which was why she’d always run off when it happened. and, unfortunately, it happened all the time. for that reason, her childhood had been pretty harsh and she suffered a lot because of it.

but there wasn’t only bad times. although she wasn’t close with her father, she got along with her mother just fine. they had lots of loving mother-daughter moments, cooking together and doing each other’s hair. her mother would often compliment her eyes, “you have your father’s eyes, with my face”.

she would always help other kids. the ones she thought were deserving of it of course, helping them when they’d get hurt for a reason or another or simply keeping them company if their parents weren’t around. it’s one of the reasons she’s well known in zaun.

i hurt my own feelings writing about sevika but oh god, there are no freaking canon infos about her past it’s unfair. gosh i love my babies so much. stick around if you’d like more arcane content pretties, i’ve got plenty more in store for ya >:).

✧ arcane navigation. ✧

[bwat5-blog]

Jinx: The Best Version

**Spoilers For Arcane**

In the vein of my earlier post about Caitlyn and Violet's reunion, I wanted to take a moment to celebrate this moment for Jinx. Because at the end of the day, my belief that this character deserved for us to see more of how this went down, doesn't take away from the absolutely epic impact of what we were given.

Jinx is a complex character to say the least, and while all of the main characters are fighting their own inner battles throughout this story, her pain is uniquely hard to watch. We meet this kind and curious little girl, and watch as her mind is torn apart by the world around her as Powder sinks below the waves, and only Jinx is left.

But it's her journey to find out who Jinx truly is, that makes her such a special character. We see her torn between being the shattered ghost of Powder and Silco's terrorist daughter, until she has been stretched so thin she pleads with her own sister to take her life. She is only able to begin her path toward healing, when a certain slightly feral street urchin enters her life.

Her time with Isha starts her down the road to finding who she really is. As Vi comes to see the good in her, and she is able to separate herself from the monster Silco turned her into, although it is through unimaginable loss and pain, that darkness is finally scoured from her. So in the 11th hour, when someone she believed had given up her comes to save her life, she is ready to listen.

**It had to be Ekko. I love Vi, she is my favorite character, but Jinx had to be saved by someone who wouldn't put their love for her before the truth. She knew Vi was going to be in her corner, no matter what. So in a moment where she sees nothing left in her worth loving, someone like Vi who she knows won't give up on her regardless wasn't the person to get through to her**

Vi and her forces are being overrun by the shimmer hulks (no idea what they are called just my best guess), Caitlyn is stabbed, standing alongside Mel against Ambessa herself, and "chaotic humming in distance" as the show so expertly subtitles it draws their attention.

The Queen of Zaun leads her people to war:

Arriving on her base WHICH WAS APPARENTLY AN AIR BALLOON Jinx arrives in a blast of music and colorful explosions, leading the firelights and her people to war. We see her bright colors, hear her loud music, she even treats us to one of her signature smirks while a glitchy grin ghosts over the screen, but this feels entire different. This is not the keening tension of an unstable mind. For perhaps the first time, it feels like the trappings of "Jinx" are hers to command, not ropes around her neck. Bearing the symbols of those she loves and has lost, she opens fire saving the topsiders who have hated her, and saving her beloved sister. All while Ekko and his warriors descend from on high, and the people of the undercity who refused to fight for Jayce, have rallied behind one of their own.

Finally, we see her not only reunited with VI, but at peace with one another as they are now, even in the midst of this terrible battle. And in what could be her last moment among the living she stands for her beloved sister who had always stood for her, making sure the last person close to her lives.

"There's no good version of me"...

"Everyone who gets close to me dies"...

At the end of her story for this show, the young girl who tortured herself for the deaths of her family carried them with her into battle, leading her people wo once feared her, and saved the life the person who would never give up on her. And it is this version of her, the best version, that I believe sails off into blue, ready to write her new story.

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

watched the s1 finale with my sister two days ago (but it was like semi-late when we finished watching and then some shit happened the next day so i didn't post her thoughts until now):

"vander would go on my hear me out cake"

"she has the fighting equivalent to blue balls. she's all revved up and no one to punch" (about vi when jayce left her with the gauntlets)

"i think you're just talking out of your ass" (about silco after renni's son died)

"i would've had your son killed for this" "i would've punch him in the face cause who the fuck does he think he is"

"you could go back to noxus if you like to talk about it so much" (about ambessa)

"with respect, i don't give a shit what any of you think of me anymore" "period, kind of attractive of him to say, just that though. i don't forgive how you've neglected viktor"

"this is a dinner party from hell"

"i was hating him but now i feel bad for him" (about heimerdinger)

i jokingly called the show a masterpiece sometime after we finished watching and she went "i wouldn't say that" so do with that what you will

"kay but the thing is, nothing he said was wrong" (about finn after he died)

"are they flirting?" (about jayvik when they were on the ledge)

"i feel bad for her but i'm not sad that he's dead" (about jinx and silco)

the credits rolled and she went "i'm sorry what" which is so me-watching-arcane-for-the-first-time-coded of her to do

"there's too much moral greyness for me"

okay and then i had her list her top 5 and bottom 5 characters (she struggled to find three more top characters after the first two, probably tells you a lot about her viewing experience)

top 5:

vander: "he has clear morals and he's just trying to protect his people and he's a good father figure"

ekko: "he's the little guy, when we first meet him that is, he's like a tech wiz. and for him to build this place, i'm proud of him"

caitlyn: "she's an actual good enforcer like she's actually trying to listen to the people"

viktor: "he just wants to help people and he's looked over a lot and downgraded so he tries not to do the same"

claggor: "he's just a homie, he's a ride or die, literally, i don't know, he just has a special place in my heart" (that "literally" was UNNECESSARY)

bottom 5:

silco: "he is the archenemy. he is persona non grata. he. killed. vander. so- he's also a crime lord who doesn't care about his own people. silco doesn't have a code. silco has no scruples"

sevika: "sevika is just annoying. why she tryna kill vi all the time? i mean vi's tryna kill her but-"

marcus: "i hate a crooked cop"

jinx: "the crimes. like the killing of those six cops, and the almost killing of caitlyn, and the kidnapping of cailtyn. like she's obviously a pawn of silco's so that's why she's lower than silco but she did some crime independently"

ambessa: "ambessa's a bad mother"

special mention: deckard: "he is bad, he was really creepy and a predator" and any of silco's goons (reason is obvious i guess)

and these are her thoughts on some of the characters who aren't in either of those lists (no ranked order, just the order she spoke about them):

jayce: "i don't care about [him], you're a bad friend and i hate when people are bad friends"

mel: "you're kind of two-faced but i do feel bad about the situation with your mom"

vi: "i'm still upset with what you said to powder but i like that you're trying to make up for it but unfortunately words stick"

cassandra: "booo *thumbs down*" (that's it i guess i don't-)

mylo: "booo *thumbs down* i feel bad that he died but he was really mean to powder"

heimerdinger: "i judged him quickly cause he was a bit annoying but by the end, he had a warm place in my heart and i always go back to him in the orchestra" (the scene with ray chen's insert)

sky: "i feel so bad for her. it's also kind of a commentary. even without meaning to, the man destroyed her to save himself"

tobias: "he cares about his daughter and what she wants and realizes there's a time and place for chastising"

episodes 1 and 2

episode 3

episode 4

episodes 5 and 6

episodes 7 and 8

[possibilistfanfiction]

for the caitvi prompts: university

been really enjoying the light heartedness lol

[a little backstory! v cute! we love them! fits in this little au here & here, also now up on ao3 if that's a better place to stay organized w them lol]

//

it’s your favorite kind of day outside, gloomy and rainy without being freezing cold. cait holds your hand without asking today, which makes you smile into her shoulder and you kind of hate it, the butterflies that you’d assumed you were too old and too fucked up for, but you’re also, just, thankful. you’d climbed together this morning at the gym closest to your apartment, which is a little smaller and older than the one closer to cait’s, but she always compliments the route setting and is friendly with the staff, enjoying your friends’ happy teasing that of course you’re on a date climbing, vi. she loves it just as much as you do, so the embarrassment, at least in that way, has faded.

but still, you had showered back at your apartment together, changed, and are walking, even with her pouting about how the drizzle will make her hair frizzy, around the old buildings of the university campus nearby, wandering until it’s time to meet jinx, jayce, and viktor for lunch. it’s a date-date, it occurs to you, your third official one, even though it’s just barely noon and cait is in a simple turtleneck, a practical raincoat, and pair of jeans, rather than anything fancy: you’re getting to know her, to learn her, to listen and encourage and laugh and, quite literally, catch her when she falls.

you acquiesce to her pouting eventually — jinx teases you all the time for it, but her eyes are so blue and she’s so pretty — so you duck into jinx’s favorite coffee shop and get her a warm, honey and mint tea for the rest of your stroll. she smiles into the steam, then up at you, and it’s really, terrifyingly easy to kiss her while you hope, a little tug in your chest, that the days continue on and on like this.

‘did you study at university?’ she asks, sipping her tea once it’s cooled down. she says it conversationally, like she genuinely wants to know, but still, you scoff.

‘what makes you think someone like me went to school?’

‘well,’ she says, never one to back down, ‘your sister attends university, and also you’re quite smart.’

jinx and vander and your therapist are always on you about accepting compliments, leaning into the way people see you now: kind, competent, responsible, intelligent. you try to let this one sink in, to trust that caitlyn will still see you as those things after you tell her. you tug her to a bench under a pretty awning covered in ivy. ‘thank you.’

she hums.

‘i — i got my GED when i was incarcerated,’ you say, the simplest way to go about it. if things go bad, at least jinx is close by and would probably be more than happy to ditch her class; you could make an escape.

‘oh,’ caitlyn says and is quiet for one of the most frightening moments of your life; her face is calm and doesn’t give anything away. ‘i hate prisons,’ she says, finally, which abruptly makes you laugh, one hard bark of a thing. she squeezes your hand and smiles. ‘i am glad they offered that program for you, at least.’

‘i — whew,’ is all you can really say, breathing into the bottom of your spine like you help jinx practice when she’s feeling really overwhelmed. your eyes prick with tears and you duck to wipe them away. caitlyn allows you this, but when you get it together a little bit and lift your chin, she’s looking at you with curiosity and very distinct admiration, not pity or disgust, and you might start crying all over again. ‘i — sorry i waited to tell you, or whatever.’

‘there’s no need to apologize,’ she says, then frowns. ‘but did i do anything to make you think that might be a problem for me?’

you sigh and then gesture to the gorgeous, huge building across the courtyard. ‘your last name is on the library right there.’

‘ah.’

‘yeah.’

‘well, i am much more than my last name,’ she says, puffing out her chest a little in defiance, and very clearly you think i love you. it’s not the time, but you’ll remember it as the years go on. ‘and even with it, my mother has advocated for years for policy and programs to shorten or eliminate prison sentences, and social supports to decrease recidivism rates.’ you know this, objectively, but caitlyn’s mom might be the scariest person you’ve ever had to even think about meeting. ‘which i don’t think is nearly enough, by the way.’

she stops herself from going on a longer rant, turning to face you fully with a smile, a cold hand coming to brush the scar on your lip and hold your jaw in its palm.

‘i know you, violet.’ as simple as that. ‘would you like to tell me more about any of it?’

you don’t, not really, because you never talk about it if you don’t have to, but some of the things you experienced, things you were forced to experience, still color the worst of your days. so you tell her some of it, at least: how you were only seventeen but sentenced to an adult prison, with an agonizingly long six years of an adult sentence, for theft and assault felonies, some of which didn’t even happen. you tell her about how you had to ration food — she hums in some kind of present understanding; it dawns on you that she’s probably noticed you’re always hungry, that it feels an impossible feat to eat seconds, even if there’s plenty — and about how you were in a lot of fights. sometimes it was because you had to, to protect yourself, and sometimes it was just because you were angry, because you got the shit beat out of you constantly, because you spent at least half your time in solitary, because a scar through your brow or the needles and ink pressed into your skin was better than the horrible, terrifying nothingness. you got so, so strong because it wasn’t safe, physically or in your own mind, to be anything otherwise.

‘my sister is the only thing that kept me going, sometimes.’

cait sniffles, wipes her nose with a shy smile, a little embarrassed to be crying at your story, but you love her all the more for her empathy. ‘it’s clear to everyone how much you care for her.’

‘when i got out, she was — well, the details are hers to share,’ you say, not wanting to overstep. ‘she has some pretty severe mental health stuff, and it was bad. my dad pulled some strings and got me into the fire academy, though, and i was able to get a place for us to stay together and get her some real help.’

‘it seems, at least to me, like you’ve worked incredibly hard to build the two of you a really beautiful life, vi.’ when you nod, she leans forward to kiss you, softly and tenderly, a reassurance, an offering, a balm. ‘i’m quite lucky to be included in it.’

‘we’re lucky to have you.’ your voice is thick with tears but it’s worth saying anyway. ‘even if jinx is a brat about it sometimes.’

caitlyn laughs, unfazed.

‘that’s just her countenance,’ you say. ‘i’m glad you’re smart enough to not take it personal.’

‘i’m brilliant,’ she agrees, ‘even for a kiramman.’

you roll your eyes, groan appropriately. ‘hey,’ you say, squeezing her hand before you stand, your lunch time looming. ‘thank you.’

‘you must know by now, violet, that i am quite fond of you.’

‘i — yeah, i do. still, sometimes this — it changes things for people.’

she nods, assenting easily. ‘it only makes me care for you, and admire you, more, if anything.’

‘jinx is never going to let me hear the end of it if i’m actively crying when we walk in there, cupcake.’

caitlyn just laughs and pulls you in for another kiss. it’s raining harder now — you’ll have to dash through it — but the awning protects you for now, and there’s some kind of home in the warmth of her mouth.

[stevengrantshubby]

another hexquad au kinda thing.

~ x ~

vampire!viktor: so hes a vampire, but a vampire like they exist in the movie afflicted, so think about his vampirism as a different kind of disease that he has to manage and work around. yes he does get...the standard vampire powers in terms of strength and speed. but also all of the weaknesses like sun burns him and bloodlust. but he is immortal. he can die but his body will heal itself, typically in a kind of bloodlust state that can be super super dangerous for humans around him. and he has to drink human blood, animal blood will not work.

ghost!sky young: listen, i flopped back and forth between sky being a zombie right, or a ghost but one where she is in a middle stage where shes getting sucked into the hexcore and her "astral plane self". zombie!sky would be different enough and ghost!sky may be too close to canon. but zombie!sky would lose too much of canon!sky i think. so im going with ghost!sky (maybe ghoul!sky but idk what a ghoul is really) but a between hexcore and astral plane kinda ghost.

werewolf!jayce talis: im so basic, im sorry. but i think this is a good fit, especially for the jayce that comes back from the hex anomaly or whatever it was. now when im talking about werewolves i do mean the kind that dont have full control once they transform. but jayce is still in there. im mostly going with jayce right after he comes back from the anomaly where he's got all those...breaks in reality, where his face pulls apart for a second before coming back. but that's what i think about when im talking about werewolf!jayce.

fae!mel medarda: mel gave me the most trouble! because of her light motif i was thinking about a phoenix or her, since she was...in a way reborn in the show, but that also felt...weird whenever i thought about it. then i thought about angel!mel and...eh. i dont hate it, but also felt outta step yknow? so ive settled on fae!mel. now im making a difference between fae, an otherworldly and ethereal being, and fairy, the tiny winged being, tho tiny!mel would be a dream. so, i leaning toward fae!mel with all her otherworldly and ethereal beauty and magic. i still feeling weird because mel is a magic user in canon, but...eh, i think it fits her. plus thinking about her in these kind of flowly robes? i dunno.

~ x ~

anyways maybe art later!!

[arcaneconfessions]

i feel like theres a shit ton of priveliged ableds that are trying to like "stand up for" viktor or whatever by going "he should be really mad and hate jayce and be awful!" but as a disabled person who has disabilites due to socioeconomic reasons and is in an area with a lot of rich white abled people- i'm not mad at them individally? I'm mad at the system. If i was a zaunite i wouldn't be mad at the individual piltover people, i'd be mad at the societal complexes that cause pilties to act/think like that? and dare i say most young priveliged people are willing to listen. Being close to someone like jayce gets you in a position to educate powerful people about opression that are actually trying to listen. i mean look at jayce's reaction to "I'm from the undercity." he realizes he screwed up and obviously wants to change. when you have seen people in every social class, and been in most like viktor has, you stop thinking in terms of ingroup outgroup and more in terms of systemic issues/corruption that arise naturally because of the status quo. It just kind of annoys me seeing people on the upper middlle class white girl website talking about a disabled + chronically ill lower class man like they have any idea what they're saying.

.

[colorfulwastelandvoid]

Jayce Talis

Okay so here is an actual analysis on Jayce Talis. Sorry my initial post turned into something else.

Jayce Talis aka “The Golden Boy” is a man of love and sacrifice to his core. He is a genius inventor and great spokesperson. He understand himself well enough to know what he wants and won’t stop until he gets it, yet it is this determination that will be his ultimate undoing. Throughout season 1 we explore his love of magic, his genuine want to help people and his impulsivity. I always found it weird how quickly the fandom labeled him as dumb just because he is naive. First naive ≠ dumb and quite frankly he is not as naive as yall portray him as nor is he easily manipulated. An apt description would be foolhardy. Listen this may sound un-nuanced but that boy was doing what ever he wanted😭. We first see him basically tampering with illegal contraband which caused an explosion (it’s not his fault) like come on that could have killed someone (it did in the AU). He was literally the personification of ask for forgiveness not permission😂.People bring up the fact that baby Ekko scammed him and well yeah but also no. For one he probably wasn’t spending his own money, it was the Kirramans. Two given what he was trying to do what’s not to say that those items were still severely undervalued and he was getting the steal. Jayce does not care what he has to do, he’s gonna get what he needs. If Jayce believes in what he is doing then there is no stopping him. We see this hastiness when he is made a council member. The amount of times Mel or Heimerdinger told him one thing and he would do the opposite was actually kind of funny. The only thing Jayce listened to in the heat of the moment was his heart. I think it’s important to stress that I find Jayce is only really like this in high stress/stakes scenarios. When the show gives him a moment to think he will make a level headed decision. Now I’m not saying Jayce did not get manipulated, cause he did. Marcus got to him about that damn barricade, but again that was a high stress scenario don’t make it right but it should put stuff into context. Jayce throughout the show is giving impossible choices, that he must make the possible happen. He wants to help and will do his best to but doesn’t realize that sometimes the best thing he can do is listen and realize perhaps he can not be the one to save the day.

Love him or hate him, yall have got to recognize him first. He is the bright eyed idealist who must grapple with the reality that maybe not everything is possible. He fights with the fact in all the good in the world the ability to do bad must be taken into account. He is a person whose journey is not of finding himself but of maturing to understand who you are to others ( this one sounds sooo corny). He is the “Man of Progress”, “Defender of Tomorrow”, the extremes of idealized progress.

This is not the last Jayce Talis analysis post you’ll see on here but im tired and hate typing for too long. I’ll probably post more on him and where his character went in season 2 another time.

Ps I’m seeing online yall calling Jayce a people pleaser. From the explanations I’ve seen… yeah I’m a have to disagree with that one. Obviously I haven’t seen them all so I could be wrong.

[xi-xi-chen]

How do you see Lux interacting with Jayce, Mel, or Singed?

Jayce: With him, I think Lux would be reminded of her brother just a tiny bit due to physique and passion for their work. Overall, Lux couldn't really see Jayce as anyone to be afraid of. She's dealt with worse. I think she'd be quite friendly with him privately but still set her foot down if she finds something to disagree with him on. Overall, she can see the "good guy" in him. Perhaps, if given the time, she'd be interested to listen to the workings of his projects and ask questions about the rune works (Jinx would hate the two spending time together, cause what the hell, she can talk about the runes instead)

Mel: It feels like an obvious say, and given that she'd (Lux) been raised by the Demacian ideology, there isn't really a good interaction at first, but a forced civil kind on Lux's part because it's possible Mel doesn't even know who she is and where she's from. However, if Lux learned why Mel was banished, then maybe some empathy could pass through, and acquaintances could form between the two.

Singed: I don't think Lux would even take a chance, and if there was, it'd be to strictly avoid him. That's plan A. If for whatever reason she's stuck with conversation with him, I could only guess he'd question her carefully, and she'd answer back just as carefully. So, it'd be short, clipped, and avoidant on her part.

These are just some stuff I very briefly and roughly imagined atm haha...I'm sure there's much more to consider off of each of their contexts and given circumstances.