Your Paragon of Progress 💫

🎨 eye banner trend based on KNOL / flowrmosh's work

So I've just recently watched Arcane, and it's an absolute banger of a show. 10/10 would recommend.

A part of why I think it's good it because it's doesn't really have heros and villains in the conventional sense. All the "villainous" characters have clear motivations, and the narrative highlights the ways they justify their own actions in a way that frames them as understandable even if they are undeniably wrong.

That is... With two not-so-notable exceptions.

These two assholes, whose names I completely forgot and had to look up.

These two are some of the few characters framed as completely and totally unsympathetic. This is very intentional because each one is meant to exemplify what exactly is wrong with the place they help lord over.

For Piltover, the story presents it as an elitist society full of decadence that doesn't care for anything except for it's own economic expansion.

Of the main characters that could exemplify this, there's Jayce, who's actually a pretty decent guy who wants to use science to improve lives but gets stuck in the politics of it all. There's also Mel, who at first seems to be the very pinnacle of an ambitious corrupt politician, only for the story to juxtapose her with her war mongering mother and have her start a relationship with Jayce, which rounds her character and also paints her as sympathetic.

So when all your main characters to complex to properly convey to the audience the problems of your society, you have to show it off through the side characters. Hence, we have Hoskel (that I originally misspelled as Holdaak for some reason lol)

Hoskel is in no way sympathetic. He's fat and greedy and stupid. Mel gives him a children's toy and he's still trying to solve it six years later. When there's a crisis, his first concern is his wine shipments. He's everything wrong with Piltover, so when the audience is done being captivated by the compelling characters, they can look at Holdaak and go "ah yes, this is why the poor is repressed and the government is completely corrupt."

Same goes for Zaun. It's hard to use Silco as a way to represent all the problems with Zaun because the audience is too focused on his compelling relationship with Jinx. Yes he's a kingpin controlling the masses with drugs, but the audience can see how he got there, and right now he cares more about Jinx than his own power.

Meanwhile we have Finn, a lesser kingpin complicit in Silco's regime and actively riding off of his coat tails for the sake of his own power. He's dissociated with the plight the average Zaun denizen to the point that he can't even breath the same air as them without choking on the ground.

When the audience is wondering why Zaun is so much worse after Silco took over, they can look at that guy and go, "ah yes, it's because people like this guy are benefitting from the addicted masses."

Are there any champions from Piltover/Zaun or beyond, who didn't show up in s1 of Arcane, who you'd like to see in s2? Both from a “this character would work really well with the story” perspective, and a “I just really like this champion” perspective.

Mm... I'm really wary about introducing more characters, honestly. Arcane's first season was already absolutely crammed to the gills with characters and one of my criticisms of Season 1 is that while everything that was in it was very very good, it was also so incredibly dense that the audience barely has time to breathe.

It's the kind of delicate balance where it feels like they just barely had the time and space to tell the stories of the main ensemble, and introducing more champions into that mix might make it all tip over.

That said, they do have the advantage that all the introductions and worldbuilding have basically been done now, and there's probably room to introduce one or two more characters to shake things up.

Instinctively I want to say Camille, except it makes no bloody sense why she'd only turn up in Season 2 and have been a complete non-presence in Season 1. Like, there was some shit happening that she should have been involved with in the first season.

Renata Glasc is an option. Zaun is going to have a big power vacuum and she would slot in very nicely as the new major power in the undercity. On the other hand, she's also perhaps a little bit too much like Silco 2.0, being partly based on him in the first place, and I think there's a solid argument for bringing the chembarons from season 1 back to fight with each other instead. Especially since one of them has a literal death vendetta against Jayce now.

Then there's Orianna, who in this canon seems to be Singed's... daughter? Some kind of family member? If all of Singed's research in the first season was about trying to find a way to save her life or bring her back to life, then she'd be a natural character to use to expand on Singed as a character in season 2. I think she'd have to be substantially redesigned, though - "music box ballerina" would be a weird thing for Singed to want to build her into.

Seraphine and Zeri are non-starters, I think, primarily because they are both mages, which would make absolutely no sense in the Arcane universe. Like, it is kind of important to the plot of Arcane that mages are essentially as rare as cryptids in this world. Same reason I don't think they'd introduce something like Janna either. She's a literal demigod, it would raise too many unanswerable questions.

There's no reason to bring in Ezreal, Zac, or Dr. Mundo, but Urgot is... not out of the question. He's the kind of relentlessly dogmatic, bloodthirsty cult leader that would make sense as a figure in the chaos and violence of the war that's likely to erupt. Twitch could also cameo, I suppose, but only as a cameo, I don't think it makes sense to make him a central character.

Outside of Piltover and Zaun, I'd say the main champions we are likely to encounter would be Swain or Darius (Darius specifically was most likely teased by Ambessa), and if Darius shows up there's a greater than average chance he'll have Draven with him. It's not impossible that Samira could show up for a bit of a cameo, as some kind of Noxian bounty hunter getting in the way of things. Katarina and Talon are... not impossible, I suppose, Noxus is probably going to want to assassinate someone, but I also doubt they'd introduce a champion character to fill that role in the narrative. It'd be wasteful.

If Noxus is making moves, of course, there's a non-zero chance that there'll be like a Demacian diplomat at some meeting, which... makes it possible that Xin Zhao or Garen might cameo, and if Noxus wants Piltover's technology to prosecute their war in Ionia, hey, maybe there will be Ionian diplomat characters showing up to plead their case, which opens the distant possibility of someone like Irelia or Shen showing up.

I very, very much doubt it though.

tl;dr in my opinion:

Most likely new champions: Darius, Swain, Orianna, and Warwick (Warwick being Vander)

Not impossible: Twitch, Urgot, Renata Glasc, Draven, Camille

Extremely small Easter Egg cameos at best: Xin Zhao/Garen/Jarvan, Irelia/Shen/Karma, Azir (Shurima is Piltover's southern neighbor), Miss Fortune/Gangplank (Piltover controls the sea gate and trade between two oceans), Ziggs (Heimerdinger's best friend), Ryze (the science boys are starting to fuck with World Rune-level magic hazards), Vel'koz (might show up in a Void vision inside the Hexcore or something).

Mel 🔆, Viktor 🌌, and Jayce 🔥 symbolism

SUN 🔆

Mel's association with the sun is self-evident and still mostly shrouded in mystery, though her love scene with Jayce is notable, which is overlaid with starry imagery, where her silhouette and her freckled face are compared to the cosmos. The sun is also a star. It's just the star that's closest to Runeterra and has the most influence over the world.

Mel and the Hexcore are the POVs of the scene.

Hexcore and starry imagery is more strongly and consistently associated with someone else, though!

STARS 🌟 / THE COSMOS 🌌

Viktor's blue to purple pipeline is real

But seriously, the starry/swirly shapes point toward distant stars, the cosmos, a galaxy. There is no moon in Viktor's night scenes throughout the season, only stars.

Viktor's character regresses as the season goes on (blue to purple, ready to fall into Shimmer-like magenta as his corruption nears its peak).

His hubris opens him up to some kind of corruption by the Hexcore, or by whatever - or whoever - is using the Hexcore as a gateway, like what Jinx points out. Singed as his mentor plants and encourages the lie that Viktor believes, that he's better off alone and that the ends justify the means.

These perfectly ruinous circumstances lead to him getting Sky killed (Sky like sky blue, like Inspiration, lost as Viktor has lost sight of good in his pursuit of great).

In his running scene, Viktor runs not from left to right, filmspeak for progression - he runs from right to left, as though backstepping.

(And also for the Rocky Balboa reference called out in this brilliant post, but hey, I think it all works)

It's also worth laying the foundation that Viktor is a fantasy interpretation of Nikola Tesla, the Serbian-American inventor who was fascinated with electricity, radio signals, the cosmos, and [REDACTED for another post probably lol]

If you've fallen down the rabbit hole of League lore like I have, you might have picked up that peoples and warriors who are sun-worshipers are (at least anciently) tasked with hunting down and destroying Void beings, who are eldritch beings associated with the distant stars, or are Runeterrans constructed by the Void Watchers trapped between realms. The sun fights against interlopers from other dimensions or celestial bodies.

Mel and Viktor have the same ideas about risk and the nature of progress, and they are both technically foreigners living in Piltover and pursuing that progress - in two very different (but complementary) ways. They are most likely the two characters whose literal bodies are celestial, imbued with the Arcane. Their bodies are most likely augmented with magical metals.

Yet the arcane imagery that seems to accompany them respectively are diametrically opposed - Sun vs. Void, possibly. (Also, purple and yellow/gold are opposite or complement colors on the color wheel.)

Whether they wind up working together or whether they clash (as Viktor loses himself) or if it's a mix of both, I think Mel and Viktor are destined to collide in season 2.

So where does this leave Jayce?

FIRE 🔥

Fire for Jayce means more than one thing. The first thing that should come to mind is the fire of the forge. Creation and industry. The legacy and hard work of his family.

However, his FIRST imagery with fire occurs when Elora says "Speak of the devil" and Jayce is framed in flames at Mel's fundraising party.

He's similarly framed in the flames of a Molotov cocktail on the bridge between Piltover and the undercity with Viktor, after he's just called the people of the undercity dangerous.

What I think we're being shown here are Jayce's choices. He can use his talents and influence for good - creation and industry - or he can use them for destruction and oppression. A hammer can create.

A hammer can also be a weapon, a tool of destruction:

Fire can quickly burn and spread out of control.

Hey look, blue all the way to magenta in one scene!

And if you know his original League lore, the reason why his rivalry with [REDACTED] crosses the point of no return - fire and destruction. Yeah.

Jayce is interesting because his point position in the Mel-Viktor-Jayce trifecta makes it tempting to assign celestial imagery to him, too. However, adult Jayce is only present with Hexcore, star, and sun imagery when he is sharing a scene with Viktor or Mel respectively.

The show makes it a point that Mel and Viktor are the reasons he is the Man of Progress at all:

Note that Jayce in the center of his Man of Progress posters is backed by a gear (Viktor) and the sun (Mel). If Viktor had not intervened in episode 2, Jayce would be dead or disenfranchised. If Mel had not intervened in episode 3, then Jayce AND Viktor would have been kicked out of the Academy if not imprisoned or exiled, and Hextech with Jayce and Viktor at the helm would not exist.

(This is reaching, but I like to interpret that the circle + notches in the gear shape are like Viktor's star symbolism, but even if that's the big reach that I think it is, Viktor is a machinist, engineer, and techmaturgist with Artificer parents - the gear definitely represents him on a meta level)

The imagery that I believe is Jayce's and Jayce's alone is that of fire. He is terrestrial, using magic contained within tools the way he has always wanted to bring Hextech to every household, while Mel and Viktor are influenced by magic on a whole other level.

Sure would be a shame if Jayce found a reason to choose the path of destruction and be corrupted further, diverging from Mel and Viktor's core values

Sure would be a shame if Viktor's personal choices had consequences that radiated out further than season 1 and he gets put on a disastrous collision course with everything that Jayce and by extension Piltover hates and fears

Sure would be stressful for us if Arcane decided to be a Greek tragedy about it

Though possibly the most important piece of this picture is how Mel - gold like the sun, gold that doesn't tarnish or rust, gold that is an excellent conductor - has already faced the abyss and said NO to her own corruption:

It sure would be something for her to have to watch Jayce and Viktor go down a different path, huh

Give me 5 more minutes // Viktor x reader Smut

Words: Bro dont ever ask me this the answer is always the same idk

Warnings: smut/lemon, PiV, eating out, a few dirty words, Afab,

Two smut stories in two days LETS GOOOO!!! I love my crippled boy. Viktor brainrot all the way. I’m tired of reading smut of him and he is basically a bottom/sub in each one. NOT in this one though haha!😈 EH MINORS DNI!!!! Uhh viktor has an age in this story but this takes place before he met Jayce and hextech and all that.

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The loud sound of the alarm goes off. You stir in bed reaching over to turn it off. You fell movement beside you. It’s Viktor. You and Vik have been dating for a year. The young 23 year old man moves a bit giving you a kiss on your cheek. You smile still half asleep. But not for long you feel him kiss your lips and then your neck. His arms goes around your waist and he pulls you closer “Goodmorning” he says in his sleepy voice “morning” you let out. He continues to kiss your neck. His hand leaving your waist and catching a feel of your covered breast. “Viktor you have to go” you say groggily “yes but not immediately my dear” he says, he starts sucking on your neck. “What are you a vampire?” You say jokingly your eyes still closed “only for you my dear” he says. You feel his weight shift and he’s now between your legs as his kisses travel down to your chest.

The silk nightgown you wear is slightly pulled down exposing your breast. Viktor kisses each breast and latches onto one, you lightly moan as he grabs the other mound and massages it with his hand occasionally pulling the nipple and twisting. “Mmph” you moan out. “Thats my girl” he says as he comes back up to kiss you on the lips.

The kisses get heavy and heated. Viktor uses his free hand to snake down your torso and into your underwear. Lightly touching your clit and coating his fingers in your juices. He bends down and kisses and suck your neck. In a quivk movement he shoves two of his slender fingers into your warm heat. In shock you grab his arm and arch your back. He works his finger in and out of you looking down at your face admiring every face you make in bliss. Your moaning is getting louder and louder. Soon you wrap your arms around his neck as you shake and come around his fingers. As you come down from your high viktor kisses your forehead and sits next to you leaning against the headboard. You get up removing your underwear and watches as he slides his boxers down watching him jerk off a few times. You climb on top of him positioning yourself over him. “Have i ever told you on how beautiful you look” Viktor says kissing your chest and neck, you respond by lowering yourself onto him the both of you gasp as he fully sheathed inside of you. He puts his hands on your waist as you slowly lifts up but not to dar leaving his tip inside of you “yes all the time” you respond before slamming yourself down onto him. You repeat these movements. You and him stare into eachother eyes with so much love and trust, the room getting hotter and your moans mixing in with eachothers. His hands roam around your body admiring your curves and flaws. You lean down and deeply kiss him. He buries his face into your breast “oh stars im close” he says you hold his head against you feeling yourself clinch around him. “So am i” you sat picking up your pace his hands grab your azz and you lift up as he cums directly on your stomach and thighs. “Ah that was fun” you say attempting to get up. Before you can viktor grabs your hand pulling you towards him you stand above him as he positions your cunt above him. “Im not finished just give me 5 more minutes” he says before disappearing under you. You feel his hot mouth and he planted a series of kisses on your clit. You feel him kiss your thigh before he dived into you. His hot tongue opens your folds as he dips in between your wetness. He eats you like your his last meal on earth. You grab his hair and rock inti him his long nose and tongue doing you alot of justice. You feel another climax coming and your legs are about to give out. He grabs you waist tightly holding you up. You try to push him away but he doesn’t move. “Fuck!” You scream as he dives his tongue deep into you. You shake and quiver hearing vik drink your juices as you came. He pulls back and lets you go. You fall back onto the bed. Heavy breathing.

As you take a look up you see viktor wet chest and your juices covering his nose and mouth. He looks at you “you are so divine my darling” he says. He gets up and off the bed grabbing his cane. “Do you wish to shower with me? I obviously can’t go into work like this” he says snickering a bit. You nod your head and get off the bed grabbing his hand and the two of you walk to the bathroom.

I’m gonna freaking scream. The last part was kinda hard to type as I didn’t have much coming into my head. Uhh for my spiderpunk/miguel, silco and viktor smuts i plan on making a visual list of corn you can watch to know what is going on. Keep a lookout 👀.

↞[arcane preference] with s/o wet due to rain↠

▶[Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Marcus, Silco, Vander, Singed, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika] with s/o wet due to rain (and a bit sad)

I know you missed me <3 I’ve almost finished the exams of this session, so I can write more! I’ve seen some authors join challenges where they write one scenario a day and I’d like to do something similar, in case you have prompt you can dm it to me!

(While I was writing it took a particular meaning, so I specify that in some points is the reader is a little sad/ melancholy)

↠No use of "y/n", gender neutral reader (no pronouns for the reader) ↠TW: fluff?, Sfw ↠Character/s: gn reader, Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Marcus, Silco, Vander, Singed, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika

↠If you have any requests, ask the devil.↞

【Jayce】

The rain doesn’t bother Jayce too much, at least when he’s the one getting soak to the bone.

But when you knock on the door of his dorm room, he casts his eyes in disbelief.

He pulls you into the room quickly, raising the temperature of the thermostat.

makes you sit and offers something warm as he goes to prepare the bath, putting clean towels and his clothes on hand.

If they’re too wide, it’s not a problem, he’ll just look away and shrug, his ears flushing. Clearly, his neurons stopped working on that view.

When you come back from the bathroom you find him busy preparing the bed by putting extra pillows and plaids.

will make you find food, no matter if it is junk food or vegetable broth arranged in that little time, the important thing is that you completely recover

"I thought if you’ve been out in the rain so long it’s because something didn’t go right and... uhm..."

obviously worried, but he won’t force you to talk about it. If you’ve actually just caught the downpour, he’ll give you a lecture about bringing always an umbrella and how health is important

If you actually have something upsetting you, he will just caress the back of your neck

will hold you close if you do not want to talk about it, so that you feel that you are not alone.

【Viktor】

You probably don’t even have to reach him. 

Both in the courtyard of the academy soaked to the bone, hair stuck to the face.

on the one hand you are two idiots, on the other the feeling of loneliness, the smell of petrichor, the rain that seems to wash away the problems relaxes you

You go back to the dorm together, arm in arm because of the slippery ground

I can’t really tell what’s the reason, but taken by an unjustified euphoria, mixed with the fact that no one sees you, you would even sing off-key some notes of "Loverboy" to Viktor, who would barely hold a giggle.

It is said that not all evils come to harm, and showering together is proof of this.

It doesn’t have to result in something more, it’s a simple way to replicate the feeling of raindrops on the skin without getting sick.

You enjoy a bit the feeling, a bit the intimacy that is created by gently passing your fingers in each other’s hair.

After the ritual shower you are together wrapped in blankets, talking about more and less with your eyes closed: the exams, the hextech, some embarrassing scene of Jayce happened in the day, up to fall asleep in that position

lulled by the sound of the storm, muffled by the closed glass

【Ekko】

He doesn’t love the rain, but in his defense it is both an obstacle when you move with the hoverboard, both the rain of zaun is so acidic to be almost corrosive.

The first instinct to see you come back to the firelights soaking wet would be to scold you: he is worried, he didn’t see you return to base, he had feared the worst.

Once he gets past the initial reaction, he’ll make fun of you. Look at you, you look like a drowned rat.

he would bring you a warm clothes change and approach you, rubbing the back of your head with a towel partly to remove water from your hair, partly to get a smile out of you.

a quick check to see if you got hurt, ready to medicate you in case, before getting told in detail what you were doing out there, if you saw or did something and how it went.

He would not be too apprehensive, the rain is annoying but it is the least.

But he’s empathetic enough to know if you’ve been taken aback by the sudden rain or if you needed to be alone with yourself.

"Ya know… if something goes wrong you can tell me ‘bout it, if not as a partner at least as a member of this community. We solve problems together. There is no "stupid" or "not serious" problem, if something hurts you"

He’s not one to talk too sentimental, but in these cases he prefers to put aside his character and remind you that you’re not alone

and that if you do not have an umbrella you can stand in two under the same

【Silco】

When you enter his office dripping wet, he looks up from the documents only to raise his brows, before looking back at the pieces of paper, waiting for an explanation.

He is not indifferent to the fact that you are shaking like a leaf, but in his gaze it’s implied a scolding: you should have repaired yourself or should not have gone out at all.

If you don’t feel like explaining yourself, Silco’d just sigh and put the documents in a desk drawer, getting up to go get a plaid hot enough to make you stop shaking.

But he doesn’t wrap you in it or give it to you directly, he walks instead to return sitting on his throne

He places the blanket in such a way that he wrap you when you go to sit on his lap, holding you. It is about respecting the spaces, if you want physical comfort you can hide in his arms, otherwise you can only take the blanket.

Plus, you can take your time.

he would turn on the gramophone, letting the low volume music fill the room.

He doesn’t talk, you already know everything you need to know. He gently runs his fingers through your wet hair until you fall asleep, wrapping you up better.

"Sometimes it’s good for us to carve out a corner of the world for ourselves, to be alone with our thoughts. But don’t overdo it, health is a precious gift." 

his lips whisper these words softly against your temple.

He does not mind the rain, the noise relaxes him, so would take advantage of it to stay for a while in intimacy tight in that position, lulled by the notes that fill the air and by the drops of water on the green window

【Marcus】

He wouldn’t really know how to act, he wouldn’t spontaneously do anything other than ask you explicitly if everything’s okay and what he can do.

He’s a simple man: if you tell him to get the tub ready, he does. If you tell him to make a seat for you at the table, he is already in the kitchen.

he’s not stupid, he just doesn’t know what you feel do to and what you don’t, so he shows his concern in helping you the exact way you need help.

If he has already eaten, he will still sit at the table with you, perhaps peeling a fruit while you are busy eating a hot meal.

And he is going to tell you about his day, about the child, about how the Kirammans are giving him white hair.

"You know Marcus, they kinda suit you well. White hair I mean"

He looks up at you before spreading his lips in an idiot smile that never fails to put you in a good mood

"Then I’ll be working overtime for that family. Double shift tomorrow, definitely."

Maybe he doesn’t have loud reactions or exaggerations, but that normality that permeates the room when you’re alone with him makes you feel safe.

When you start eating the fruit, he stands up and disappears into the bedroom.

You are going to find extra pillows and candles, just to create a small corner for you two

【Vander】

The sigh that comes out of his lips is worth more than a hundred words.

He makes you sit at the counter and prepares you a hot drink, something to warm you up with before he crosses his arms.

"So? You don’t have to tell me anything?" can be a little intimidating, but you know he’s just worried. You imagine that he waited for you with anxiety, that he is worried about you and how you feel.

He knows you’re grown and independent, but he still feels responsible for everything that happens in the lanes, and you also know for sure he was ready to blame himself if anything happened to you.

In case it was just a shower, a second sigh would follow, this time to lighten the chest.

he smiles at you tired but full of love. "One day you’ll scare me to death like this"

If you want to talk instead Vander is a great listener, would remain silent and would take some time to answer you, so that he actually looks for a solution or an adequate answer and not just being polite.

very apprehensive, he is the father of four children after all. Once he’s done cleaning the inn, he’ll carry you in his room, cuddling and covering you in attention.

Being in bed together, covered, while he hugs you from behind is the closest thing you can get to heaven

【Singed】

He wouldn’t be too worried, but you can’t blame him, he’s used to things worse than two drops of water.

He’d look up at you, moving his gaze away from his bakers and test tubes to make sure everything is okay, making room for you next to him.

"Something wrong?" the voice is hoarse and low, almost relaxing in its uniqueness.

he puts his vest on your back to cover you as much as possible to warm you up a bit and take off with his thumb a few drops of rain caught between your eyelashes

You know he’s working and he’s busy, and that attention he gives you while his hands are extracting the drug is enough to make you smile.

From time to time he caresses your cheek, while your head rests leaning against the work surface, with the back of his hand, as if to tell you that he is not ignoring you.

You take the opportunity to close your eyes and rest a bit, trying to focus on the noise of glass and the metal that gently clinks.

"Will you tell me about it?" 

After a while he stops and looks at you, devoting all his attention to you. 

He’s not a talkative man, but he’s a man of science. And when he puts everything on the table, leaning his back against the wall to be able to look at you better you know that he is expressing how important you are.

【Jinx】

perplexed, but amused

"awww, did you go for a walk in the rain?"

It is not a problem if you make the floor wet, but she gives you a signal to not to approach the stationary shovels that act as a bridge to avoid unpleasant accidents.

A lot of questions about why you were out, what the rain was like today, what it tasted like.

She feels enthusiastic even though her fingers are busy tightening bolts and attaching cables.

When you crouch on the sofa next to the creepy dummy, she turns to look at you, you can’t tell the expression, but she throws the device into the void, letting it explode as she approaches.

She doesn’t ask questions, she’s the first one who doesn’t know how to express what’s going on. Jinx just bends over so her face is lower than you, hands on her knees, and tilts her head as she looks into your eyes.

And she is so tender in that moment that you wish you could take a picture of it.

She takes old clothes or rags and sits on your lap, wiping your hair with a playful act, similar to what her sister did with her when they came back from a mission drenched to the bone.

You can’t help but smile as you see her concentrated expression, her incisors exposed by her lips and her tongue between her teeth

She is not good at words, her comfort is physical contact. She would remain embraced by you playing carelessly with your clothes

【Vi】

If it’s her standing in the rain, there’s no problem. She also enjoys the feeling of the rain on her skin as if it could wash away all the guilt she has taken.

But the moment you’re soaking wet, the situation changes.

Vi takes off her leather jacket to put it on your head while you run for shelter, and j

keeps an eye on you, ready to support you if you lose your balance because of the wet roads.

found a shelter keeps you to herself, makes you lean with the head on her shoulder and carelessly stokes your waist

from time to time she takes your hands between of hers and blows on them to warm them up, waiting for the rain to diminish before going home.

holds you closer to herself when she hears thunder or the light of lightning fills the shelter, an instinct that has not lost and probably will never lose.

Once you’re home, she’ll make you undress immediately to wash your clothes, no matter how much you try to reassure her that you’re okay or that you don’t need to, she’ll just give you a scolding look before continuing.

She’s a hundred percent quiet type to cuddle in bed while the storm is raging outside. 

If you’re afraid she holds you, falling asleep holding your hand

【Sevika】

She is the first to come home always wet or dirty, so she probably wouldn’t even notice

but as soon as he sees the clothes sticking to your skin she frowns perplexed 

"Did you want to take a shower?"

She throws you a towel or something with which you can take the damp off you while she carries an ashtray, two glasses and a bottle of liquor on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

She comes from an environment where you cannot be weak in any way, and everything that is not about something concrete is out of her reach

Sevika sits down and makes room for you on the sofa.

If you’ve just been caught unprepared by the bad weather you drink and talk about more and less, while a hand on your thigh rubs it loosely.

But if something bothers you, she won’t force you to talk about it. Silence isn’t awkward, it’s just an intimate way of communicating.

And if the alcohol makes you want to tell her what’s wrong she will listen to you in religious silence staring at the amber liquid in the glass; she does not touch neither cigarettes nor liquor until you are finished

bonus: if you tell her that someone has wronged you, don’t worry that the rain will not stop her from getting up immediately to go and... “talk to them”.

【Mel】

As soon as you show up wet as a drowned rat, she call off the servants, telling them to prepare a hot bath, dinner and the bedroom.

You see her thinning her eyes and crossing her arms to her chest, looking like she’s waiting for an explanation.

It’s not as hard as it may seem, in her work she learned that you have to first assess the situation well and then act accordingly, 

for this reason she wants to understand if it was just carelessness (and turn a homicidal look that will make you burst out laughing because you know that she behaves like this because she loves you)

or if there was a problem.

You see her play imperceptibly with her ring, she knows she can always be little present and the fear of making you feel neglected or not enough consumes her, but she cannot show it or say it explicitly.

It must be said that he is not a person who accepts not receiving answers, if Mel understands that you do not want to talk about what happened she softens the tone approaching, a hand on your cheek precedes her lips, her warm breath on your skin.

She’d find a way to get you to talk, more than out of curiosity because she needs to know if it’s a problem she can solve it.

she would feel guilty anyway, because she did not notice before the fact that you were having troubles, regardless of whether the problem concerns her or not

“Viktor,” you called out and was met with a disgruntled ‘hmm’ of acknowledgement. You pushed the door open to find your friend amongst the cluttered mess of the laboratory. He was tucked away in his desk, facing away from the door. You swore if it hadn’t been you, someone could strip this lab dry and Viktor would be none the wiser. He sat hunched over his notes and mechanical parts. He would poke and prod at the machine and then turn to write something down. Approaching the desk you could practically hear his bones cracking and joints shifting as his arms stretched high above his head. He removed his goggles revealing the slight tan line it left around his eyes.

You found yourself almost amused by his appearance, it was endearing. You shifted your weight against the desk to lean, “Sitting like that is bad for your posture.”

“I feel as if the person who sits with their legs crossed in the chair should not correct me on my posture.” He quipped.

“Well, it’s good I never asked you how you felt.”

Viktor let out a chuckle. This was your usual banter. He could, of course, always come up with something witty to say but liked letting you win. You were quieter that way, or that’s what he told himself at least.

“My dearest library assistant, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Viktor asked. Though he was looking down at his notes, you knew Viktor was paying attention. He fiddled with what, to you, looked like a hunk of garbage. The gears rotated independently of each other. Viktor would look at it, prod at it and write something down. This process repeated like clockwork.

“The Lead Botanist asked if you were interested in mixing the Hexcore with a fossilized plant er- something.” You took the pencil out his hands, he put up little effort to stop you. You leaned forward against the desk, practically laying on it, to reach his notebook page. The machine-thing ticked as you doodled on the page. “Something about bountiful fruit or whatever… sounded urgent.”

Viktor’s expression softened watching you draw aimlessly on the page. So caught up in watching you he didn’t even process the ‘urgent’ part of the message. He watched your hand spiral around the page corner in loops and circles. He followed up your arm to your free hand pushed against your cheek to keep you upright. Your eyes followed along the lazy loops and scribbles, barley hidden by your eyelashes. A small smile was forming on your lips, not that he noticed when you looked so at ease, peaceful, and really cute. It was a not-so-secret habit of his to stare at you like this. You didn't mind it though, it was the only time he seemed at peace.

“Vik?” You said softly

“Hmm?” He still wasn’t all the way there.

“You're staring.” You pushed the eraser against his nose, his eyes following along. He looked back up at you for a moment with furrowed brows before snapping back down to the pencil.

Your laugh echoes off the walls as Viktor turns to hide his blushing face. He reached for his cane and quickly stood up. “I-I must be off then.”

“Hol- hold on Vik!” You tried catching your breath. “I’m coming too!”

~•~

You both shielded your eyes from the blinding light of the sun, cursing your introverted tendencies. You walked through rows of plantlife taking in the soft scenery of Piltover’s finest wildlife. Leaves and flowers of extraordinary colors and fragrances wafted through true green house walls.

“So where is he?” Viktor asked.

“Where’s who?” You replied.

“The Lead Botanist, Adam I think his name is.”

“Oh.” You said “I lied.”

He stopped walking, staring into your eyes with a very confused look. “Eh- wh- why would you lie about that?!”

“Jayce told me to get you out of the lab so he and Mel could discuss something. I knew you wouldn’t leave if I just asked you to.”

Viktor made even more stunned sounds before turning in his heel, “This is ridiculous, I have work to do.”

You grabbed his arm, “Vik wait, please! He’s not the only one who wants to see you take a break.”

“I assure you dear, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Vik it’s been a week since I’ve last seen you.”

“Nonsense! We saw each other on Tuesday.”

“Viktor, that was Grace behind the counter, not me. And Jayce had to drag you home that night.”

Viktor searched around him for answers, trying to think of something to say. Hoping you will just let him go. He looked at your hands clinging to his arm. He met your gaze, full of worry, inching closer. You spoke, “I know your work is important Vik but, you’re important to me. 15 minutes, just take a break.”

Those big beautiful eyes of yours were one of his weaknesses, he couldn’t muster up the strength to say no to you right now. He sighed, “Only because this is the first time you’ve ever been nice to me.”

You smiled, pulling him in for a small hug, “Don’t tell anyone.” You let your hand slip from his as you turned to walk towards the outside garden. The loss of contact didn’t go unnoticed from either of you. The humidity of the greenhouse faded, replaced by the cool spring breeze. The academy garden looked gorgeous in the springtime. Local exotic plantlife were arranged in intricate designs which spiraled out from the large fountain in the center. You couldn’t help but to take in the view of a peaceful spring day.

“I don’t think the botanist lie was necessary to get me to walk around the garden with you.” Viktor chuckled

“Well it was the only lie that wouldn’t have backfired, seeing as neither of the Lead Botanists like you.” You smirked

“Wha- what do you mean they don’t like me?” Viktor sounded surprisingly concerned

“Well, Adam likes you but he can’t stand Jayce. He said he’s just too happy. Maggie though, she doesn’t like either of you. She thinks you're creepy.”

“I am not creepy.” He scoffed

“You’re a little creepy,” you replied to his offended response. “Relax Vik, that’s why I like you.”

“You like me for such horrible reasons.” He sneered.

“I like you cause you’re amazing Viktor.” Your voice held a sudden sincerity. Viktor blushed at the change of tone. You scanned your face for a hint of mockery but there was none. “You're smart, a great friend and I know I can rely on you. Plus you’re the only other person I know from the Undercity. The only person who really knows what I’m trying to do up here.”

He smiled, “Yes, I suppose your company is amusing to say the least.”

You playfully shove him aside. “You jerk! I’m finally nice to you and that’s your response!? You would be so lost without me Viktor!”

For the remainder of your walk, it felt like the whole world melting away and it was just you two under the spring sun. You and Viktor soon parted ways, back to work. He entered the quiet lab. Jayce waved to greet him and quickly turned back to the notebook in front of him. Viktor took his seat, resting his cane against the desk. He picked up the note book and turned to the page he was writing on. Before he could pick up his device to study some more he noticed your doodles on the page corner. Rows of loops and circles, spiraling around one word: Vitya ♡.

Jinx and Viktor, They Make a Winning Pair

To win a card game Sevika pulls out two literal trump cards, the major arcana Death and the Magician cards, both in the upright position.

The Magician card, known as the Illness in Etteilla's version, represents the ability to channel both magical and earthly properties to enact change, essentially you have the resources and talent to complete your goal you just need the will to use it. Viktor's character easily aligns with the Magician, a talented man working in a society that views his home as lesser, and was the first to recognize the brilliance of Jayce's work in hextech. Right now he has nearly all the right elements to unlock the potential of the Hexcore, and the ramifications of the season finale are likely to further alienate him from Piltover and access to his own work. The card also heavily resembles a simplified version of the Machine Herald design, which includes a third arm and what is likely the Hexcore at the center.

The Death tarot represents change, specifically the end to a status quo which usually includes projects, relationships, and self-perception. Some interpretations describe it as moving on from the past to embrace the future. You could argue Viktor's arc shares these traits, and probably so might most characters in Arcane, but I think no one else better embodies the Death tarot than Jinx herself. Jinx drove almost every new development in Arcane, usually all the parts were there, but her actions gave the push necessary for things to come together. In a lot of ways, most of the characters in Arcane are dedicated to maintaining the status quo or just aren't interested in any fundamental changes to it. Jinx decisively ended the "peace" between Piltover and the Undercity. She destroyed any chance for Piltover to quietly maneuver away from the consequences that their society wrought. Also the card looks like her, the profile of the depressingly resigned spectre is similar to her own (the spectre even looks like it has her bang just floating above her hairline).

Together they give Sevika a winning hand against her opponents. I think this small scene before Sevika and Vi's first confrontation could represent how things might play out in season 2. Viktor is both figuratively and literally, one of the most isolated characters in Arcane. His allies (Jayce, Singed, and Heimerdinger) are few and far between and his strongest connection, Jayce, will likely be severed as politics and their own actions get in the way. Viktor will likely be put on trial for the death of Sky which will likely be compounded with trumped up charges of espionage as Piltover grows more paranoid (the law works differently for Zaunites). He'll need someone to either help him escape before the trial or to break out of Stillwater (if they don''t have the death penalty). Viktor needs new friends and there's no better saboteur to have in your corner for an escape like Jinx.

Viktor and Jinx will cross paths next season, likely in the middle of one of her exploits. The way Viktor defused Jinx's bomb likely indicates how things will go down between them, in a moment of tension Viktor can deescalate what ever literal or figurative bomb that's between them. This can only work in a moment of mutual vulnerability. Based on the promotional materials, specifically the RiotxArcane online event, Viktor is one of the few characters outside of Silco that doesn't immediately see her as some foaming at the mouth maniac.

In contrast to Vi, whose partnerships have started out of pragmatism, Jinx's bonds (which aren't many) were formed through acts genuine empathy mixed with compassion. This goes both ways, because Viktor needs someone who won't judge him for what he's done, what it's cost, and the fact he's going to go further. This is where I think the theme of forgiveness for season 2 comes in, neither of them can really apologize for what they've done to anyone really, but they can find acceptance (maybe forgiveness) in their new selves and all their capable of with each other.

If they actually partnered together, the Undercity has a real chance, because Viktor cares about the Undercity and Jinx cares about the important people in her life. Viktor just doesn't really have the political acumen or connections to genuinely be effective. Jinx definitely knows most of the ins and outs, but I think Sevika is the one most capable of making this work for her, for Zaun. Sevika needs unity and fire power, two tech geniuses one of whom is a controversial symbol of rebellion can work, somehow. Besides, Viktor still needs someone to bankroll his cybernetics and partial exoskeleton, which is a service at least one chem-baron, Smeech, provides.

Tldr: Sevika can win if she can wrangle the Undercity's most feral scientists together, timing is crucial.

Update: I'm back at this post because something's been gnawing at me over Viktor's card. The half infinity looking symbol within the Magician's hold is possibly the math symbol fish, ∝, which usually represents proportionality. This could be a neat hint to refer to the fact that Viktor will really dive into the balance of the arcane and the mundane powers in the next season. It's pretty cool that between the two characters who count as mages, Ekko is represented with infinity, ∞, to symbolize not just his future time travel powers, but also his infinite potential for himself and Zaun. While Viktor represents fish (proportion), ∝, to symbolize how he will find new balance, or at least create a path for it once he unlocks the hexcore.

Update 2: I figured it out!!!!!!!

It's fun how these three prominent Zaunites either don't talk to each other, or are actively at odds with one another, in the League or in Arcane (they'd be to strong together).

Upon rewatch, Arcane actually has two layers with regards to Jayce, Mel and Viktor. The framing of the show suggests one thing, and depicts another. Watching Viktor cough up blood in between Mel and Jayce making out makes the whole experience uncomfortable at best and suggests Jayce is choosing Mel over Viktor or his science work, especially when later, Jayce going to Mel for comfort over Viktor's prognosis fades from this (Jayce laying on Mel's lap):

To this (Viktor sitting alone in front of hextech mixed with his blood):

except...

Jayce was with Viktor, spending time with Viktor by his bed at the hospital right before he went to Mel for emotional support.

And that scene where Jayce makes love with Mel? That's literally in the middle of the night- the stars are out. He's not at work because he's not on work hours. He's not choosing anyone over anything, he's having a romantic life and events outside of his work while also maintaining his friendships.

Or the framing of this scene in episode 5:

Jayce: Yesterday's smuggling fiasco was nothing. These manifests are full of discrepancies, dating back months.

Viktor: This is a poor use of out time.

Jayce: I'm a councilor now, Viktor. It's my responsibility to make sure the hexgates are safe and protected.

Viktor: What about our pledge to improve lives, for those in need? For the undercity?

Jayce: [sighs] Look, I'm sorry I didn't announce our other projects in my speech. Soon we can do everything we-

Viktor: Soon? There are people who need our help now, Jayce.

Which can be interpreted as Jayce thinks trade discrepancies are of equal or more pressing concern than the lives of those in the undercity or that Jayce is prioritizing the lives of future citizens over the people he could help now, except...

Before Mel suggests that Jayce, a scientist who's familiar with the technology and is proficient enough in social situations and public speaking that Heimderdinger allowed him to give the annual Progress Day speech, should be elevated to the position of councilor and specifically given the responsibility of tracking down the person who stole the hexgem, the two options were:

a) do nothing about the fact that the hexgem, which is extremely powerful and can power almost anything (including weaponry) has been stolen by someone willing to kill six people to get it

or

b) shut down everything powered by the hexgems so that they can't be accessed by the thief until they find the missing hexgem

The council controls all of the activities of hextech and has the ability to control if, when and how the technology is used, which would include the distribution of hextech into the hands of the people. Considering the fact that the council is already highly wary of magic and currently believes that the stolen hexgem will likely be used as a superweapon, there is a zero percent chance that the council would approve of mass producing hextech to distribute to the people, especially for people of the undercity, who the council likely perceives as inherently more dangerous or less worthy, or both. Jayce being a councilor and taking his duties as councilor seriously gives hextech its only chance at independence (as Mel put it: "With that comes the potential to shape your own destiny") and distribution to the people living in the undercity. Which would only be possible if 1. Jayce gives the council the reassurance they need that the technology will be safe in the people's hands by addressing or catching the thief and 2. Jayce having a vote himself increases the chances that a motion to distribute the technology would get passed. Meaning that Jayce needs to take his duties as councilor seriously to achieve his and Viktor's dreams of helping the people, and he is just as concerned as Viktor is. Even if Jayce gave up his councilor duties/work to achieve the ultimate form of hextech with Viktor (like Viktor wanted him to) that's the perfect medicine/healing technology, it wouldn't mean anything if none of it could get to the people because the council believes it's too dangerous.

Anyways I just can't quite figure out why Arcane is sort of framing Jayce as someone who's prioritizes Mel/his councilor work over Viktor/helping the people while showing that Jayce's councilor work is important to helping people and dedicating multiple scenes to show that Jayce does hangout with/work with Viktor.

Chamomile kisses - Chapter 12

Viktor x Fem!Reader

The following day, (Y/n) woke up early with a renewed determination to make a good impression. She carefully selected a beautiful navy dress that accentuated her curves and reached down to her knees. With diligent attention, she applied makeup that gave her face a soft and gentle glow. To complete her professional yet stunning look, she chose a pair of modest heels suitable for work.

As she walked towards the academy, a newfound energy surged within her. She aimed to arrive early, hoping to catch Viktor. From a distance, she spotted him just a few meters ahead, and they both entered the academy almost simultaneously.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, (Y/n) greeted him warmly, her voice filled with genuine kindness. The unexpected greeting caught Viktor off guard, nearly making him stumble in his steps. He swiftly turned his head to look at her, his eyes scrutinizing her as if to ensure she wasn't sick or had suddenly gone mad. What (Y/n) interpreted as Viktor checking her out was, in fact, his attempt to assess her mental state.

After a moment of silent observation, he didn't utter a word. Instead, he turned back around and continued walking towards his lab, leaving (Y/n) both surprised and bewildered. The bright smile that had graced her face wavered, but she summoned her inner strength and proceeded with her day.

(Y/n) worked tirelessly in her clinic, dedicating herself to her patients, and then stayed late in the lab, hoping to encounter Viktor on his way home.

Late in the day, Jayce found his way into (Y/n)'s clinic, his steps hesitant, yet his eyes showed genuine concern. He approached her cautiously, a puzzled look on his face. "Hey there, (Y/n), are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with both warmth and curiosity.

(Y/n) paused in her work, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected concern. She looked up from her herbal preparations, meeting Jayce's gaze with a hint of curiosity in her own. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" she replied, her tone gentle but inquisitive.

Jayce leaned against the counter, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I bumped into Viktor today, and he seemed to think you've gone a bit... well, let's just say he used the word 'crazy,'" he chuckled.

(Y/n) couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at the absurdity of it. "Crazy? Seriously?" She shook her head, her expression amused. "I mean, I've been swamped with work lately, but I didn't think it was that noticeable."

Their conversation shifted naturally into more profound territory as Jayce revealed that he had recently spoken with Viktor. Viktor's concerns piqued (Y/n)'s interest, and she leaned in slightly, her eyes searching Jayce's for insights. "What did Viktor say, exactly?"

Jayce shrugged, his gaze thoughtful. "He didn't go into specifics, but it sounded like he thinks you're acting strangely or something. Maybe he just doesn't get why you're so happy these days," he said.

(Y/n) shared a knowing smile with Jayce. She couldn't help herself; the surprises from her secret admirer had brought a lot of joy into her life. "Well, speaking of being happy," she began, a mischievous glint in her eye, "I've got a little secret to share."

As they explored these thoughts, (Y/n) couldn't help but share the delightful surprises she had encountered recently - the roses and chocolates. She described the moments that had unexpectedly brightened her days and lingered on the delicious chocolates, the sweetest part of the gift.

Understanding dawned on Jayce, and his face lit up with a mix of delight and comprehension. "So, that's why he's been taking more breaks at work, huh?" he remarked, his tone lighthearted and companionable.

(Y/n) blushed slightly, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Just don't tease him about it, Jayce. I don't want him to stop," she requested, her voice carrying a blend of gratitude and a genuine desire to preserve the small moments of happiness she had been experiencing.

Their conversation ended with shared laughter, and Jayce eventually bid his farewell, his heart warmed by the understanding he had gained. As he walked away, a sly and knowing smile remained on his lips. When Viktor, who had been working nearby, noticed Jayce's smug expression, he couldn't resist commenting. "Great, you've been infected by her eccentricities too," he grumbled, his voice tinted with a hint of annoyance.

As (Y/n) continued her work, a subtle shuffle near her clinic's door caught her attention. A sense of curiosity filled the air, and she cautiously approached the entrance, not knowing what to expect. With a gentle push, she opened the door to reveal yet another surprise gift. Her eyes widened in wonder as she laid her gaze upon a stunning labradorite, a beautiful and iridescent stone.

Attached to the gift was a handwritten note, and as (Y/n) read its contents, her cheeks flushed with warmth. "It reminded me of your gaze," the note simply stated, leaving her feeling both flattered and touched.

Throughout the day, (Y/n) couldn't help but steal glances at the labradorite, admiring its shifting colors and thinking about the ‘mysterious’ sender. As the hours passed, she couldn't help but hope for another encounter with Viktor. She checked the clock from time to time, knowing that the academy's clock tower would chime when it struck 12.

However, the day came to a close, and there were no signs of Viktor. A sense of disappointment lingered in her heart as she sighed softly. She closed up her clinic, preparing to head home. Lost in thought, she mused to herself, "Maybe I should get him a gift next time?" The idea danced in her mind, and she couldn't help but wonder how such a gesture might change the dynamics between them.

HexCrunch

--------

Warning: absolutely the most random fic you'll ever read, based on this dream I had the other night. Slightly graphic descriptions of unbelievable hunger, and just uncomfortable feelings mostly the whole way through.

Summary: You're so, so hungry...

---------

The second you woke up, you knew something was wrong. Devastatingly so. You could tell by the way your stomach was screaming, your insides throwing a fit on being too empty. The acid was starting to eat away at the lining of your stomach, hitting against it, thump thump thump.

You were starving.

This was unusual. You ate dinner, a full meal before starting your night routine. You ate well the last few days. You couldn't figure out what was making you feel so ravenous, you just knew you had to fix it.

Unfurling from your curled position on your bed with a whine, pain sparking through you like electric shocks. You pulled yourself to your feet and almost toppled over from how weak you felt. There was no energy in you to do this. It was fueled by pure, raging hunger that wracked your body over and over, thump thump thump.

Like a siren song, you stumbled, wobbling to your kitchen and ripping your refrigerator door open. Almost off the hinges if you weren't careful. Tearing through your stock, you knew in an instant there was nothing here to satisfy this unending need for something.

Something! You need something!

But there was nothing in your fridge to help. It wasn't the something you needed. You clawed apart your kitchen, your cabinets, hell, even the couch for that something you craved so badly.

No, no, no! Nothing! There was nothing!

Not the meat on the counters. The vegetables thrown across the floor. Fruits mashed in your palms, juices bleeding down your arms as you screamed. Nothing was going to satisfy this hunger and you were losing it. Like your body was a forest and your hunger, a fire. Nothing to extinguish the rapid heat of these flames.

Flashes of blue and purple obstructed your gaze as you crashed into the kitchen island. Nothing keeping you up besides the cold marble counter under your arms. It pulsed through you. Thump. The colors mixed with random shapes, a whirring sound beckoning you closer. Thump. Promising it could help this pain. Thump.

You listened, begging it to soothe this ailment. Foot in front of the other, you stumbled. A moth to a flame, following the call as the rest of your world went dark. The only light, a bright blue one, beating like a heart.

Thump thump thump.

Nothing could stop you. This sweet promise of relief had you blinded. You couldn't see your hands in front of you as you used them to find your way towards your saving grace. It smelt so heavenly. A hard shell with a gooey inside, asking to be eaten. And you were the one to answer its request.

Something rough landed on your shoulder, halting you. "Y/n? What's... what is on your clothes?" You could make out the far away voice of Jayce Talis. He took a hold of your hands and pointed to the mix of reds on them, asking something. Or yelling. Or both, you couldn't tell.

It was all drowned out by that soothing thump thump thump. It was so much closer. Right in your reach.

"Oh- hey!" Your head almost collided with a screwdriver as Viktor turned to you, shoving you off him. "What has gotten into you? I'm working with dangerous items! You must-"

Your fingers latched under Viktor's stool, tearing him away from the desk, the wheels of it squeaking with protest as you ripped him away from your goal. The force you used sent him nearly halfway across the lab, Jayce having to run over to stop the stool and the scientist on it from crashing through their newest prototypes.

There it was. That thump thump thump you had been chasing this entire time. Under the water, about to break the surface. All you needed to do was take a bite.

A flurry of protests screamed out behind you as you dislodged the Hexcore from its spot, tugging on the wiring and cords Viktor had attached to monitor its magic. It burned your hands but this hunger burned brighter.

Teeth sank into the metal, the cold outward texture crunching into a soft and chewy middle. The center squelched into your mouth, the ocean blue juice sending jolts of electricity down your throat and straight into your empty stomach. It felt like peace on Earth as you pulled away, pieces of the unknown magic core tugging off the rest like soft, tender and raw meat. Pulling apart like tendons and snapping into your mouth.

Streams of blue dripping down your arms, tracing the outlines of your veins, replacing the paths the fruits had streaked earlier. You could feel it sinking into your skin, every pore opening up to consume as much of the Hexcore as humanly possible.

But this need wasn't human. And neither was the way you tore into it until you were choking on it.

You could feel the magic boil in your blood as the last thick piece of rune caught in your throat. You knew you should've been more panicked. You couldn't breathe, sight going short. But it tasted so unnatural, you had to keep eating.

Large arms wrapped around your torso and you were lifted into the air. Thump thump thump against your back, trying to get you to cough it back up. Even if you wanted to, it was too late.

The blue that overtook your blood flooded your brain. Like a blown fuse, a sharp spark shot through your brain and you went limp.

You heard your name being called. Your body hit the floor.

...

"Y/n!" You groaned, your head spinning as you felt a sharp pain hit your body. "Are you okay?" Viktor and Jayce stood above you, worry written all over their faces.

You pressed a hand to your forehead with a whine. "Am I dead?" You asked, voice hoarse and dry, as if you had coughed out your soul.

"No, you just fell asleep." Jayce sighed, hands pulling you up into a seated position by your shoulders.

"And then fell off your stool." Viktor handed you a cold rag. You dragged it across your face, feeling that odd burn melt away. "You okay? That fall did not look right."

"I dreamt I ate the hexcore." You slurred into the wet rag.

Jayce snorted. "You're starting to sound like Viktor." The scientist above him huffed. "That means you've spent too long staring at it. You're relieved for the night."

"But the hexcore-" Jayce hauled you to your feet. Viktor had to stand on your unattended side, helping him hold you upright.

"Bed time." Jayce slung your arm over his shoulder.

"Hex...crunch..." The men had to stifle their laughs as you made it as far as the nap couch. At least if you did wake up and try to eat the Hexcore, Viktor and Jayce would be there to stop you.

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

Check out my Masterlist!

[We’re] More Than a Match Made in Heaven

I thought I couldn’t finished it on time but here is it! Honestly i dunno about the title, sorry if it’s too ugly, head emptiii

Specially dedicated to @uwuboowoo​ I’m also going to post the Jayce one later next week kdhjsjkdjf anywaaay; 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

Viktor x gn!Reader**-----1.6K----SFW (but it’s a lil suggestive)

Summary: Viktor helps you to get ready for your birthday party [very original, amirite ;)]

Tags: **No pronouns for reader, but they’re wearing a dress, jewerly, and makeup| Fluff and only Fluff| Hinted ✨ arranged marriage ✨  for extra flavor| Reader’s pregnant (jkfjhsjdj sorry y’all babyfeverisattacking)| And you know what that mean: a lil bit of breeding kink idk(?)| Established Relationship| I think that’s all

“Do not blink.” More difficult to say than do. Viktor’s fingers were warm, but the pearl-white pencil outlining the bottom lid wasn’t, and you got the impulse of moving when the strange but awaited sensation of tickles ran down your skin. He’d felt it, because his other hand cupped your face in place, tilting his face toward you. “Look at me,” he muttered, leaving you craving his fingertips over your jawline and cheeks.

Viktor didn't have to tell you twice, you got drawn to his gaze naturally, much more now that he was so close, observing the speckles of yellow and light brown mixing in a honey-like hue. You could also feel his light breath caressing your face, moving the little hairs outlining your brow.

“Hmmm,” he added, brows pinched together while he took a puffy brush to add a light violet shadow over your eyelid, following the figure you outlined beforehand for him.

He was being extra careful, eyes squinted, with slow strokes of gold powder brushes and pencils while adorning your face. Turning to observe your profile and confirm he was painting both eyes symmetrically.

Viktor stood one step away, fingers extended on your chin while you tilted your head up to him.

"Proud of your creation?" you said with a timid smile, looking at the way the lamps hung in your bedroom sent golden hues over Viktor's cheekbones where you brushed them with light golden powder, almost a creamy shade of white.

“Not yet.” He left the pencil, fingers hovering in the air while searching over the vanity for the correct shade of gold, dark yellow and shiny against the lights, to outline your upper lids on a tiny wing. “Now close your eyes, love.”

You obeyed, and Viktor mumbled something about your fluttering eyelids—a tic you couldn't stop despite the vast amount of times Viktor had helped you with your makeup. The kohl was cold and smooth over the almond-ish shape of your eye, and colder air when Viktor blew so the tint could dry faster.

A moment later, you heard the recipient of kohl against the wood. Viktor was still in front of you, so near you could feel the warmth emanating from his body. Your eyes were still firmly shut, lashes brushing your cheeks fleetingly.

His blowing air was gone, one of his hands cradling your face while he kissed you before you could open your eyes. Instead, gasping with the unexpected sensation of his lips against yours, teeth nibbling your bottom lip as a silent question to let him go inside.

You did—because how could you say no to him? But the kiss was getting far away from innocent when one of his hands was ready to slide off one of your dress' sleeves, fabric translucent purple over the shoulders and in the exterior layer of your dress.

Moaning, you pulled his hair to drive him away, only to get a heated hiss out of him. His eyes looked darker, veiled with clear desire.

You frowned, fake sighing. “You’re smudging the makeup.”

He smirked, brushing your nose with his before straightening his pose. “Why do you think I haven’t put lipstick on you, hmm?” Viktor then half-turned toward the vanity, checking his hair, noticeably disheveled on the back of his head. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

At hearing his words, you did the part, gazing at your left arm. You could see the wrinkles in the sleeve Viktor took inside his fist to pull.

Further down your body, you could see the little bump over your stomach that the loose silk of your dress couldn’t hide. Not that Viktor or you wanted to hide it, anyway.

“You started it.” You patted your belly, straightening the fabric. Over the open balcony, you could hear the growing bubbling chats from the outside garden where the party would take place. The musicians were beginning to warm up, chords of strings floating in the calm winter air, a day luckily warm and cozy. “We should come down now.”

But you didn't move from the chair, Viktor's tall figure blocking your way, eyes driving up and down your body. You blinked. "What?"

He smiled softly, rubbing a palm over your baby bump—the only reason your birthday party was such a big event rather than an intimate reunion with your friends, before tilting his head so he could give you a forehead kiss.

"I may not be too anxious today if all I have to do is brag about my exquisite spouse and my future beautiful baby," his lips brushed your skin with each word, sending euphoric waves over your belly and your whole body, feeling your cheeks hot.

He retreated, fingers playing with the different shades of purple over the vanity. Every now and then, Viktor took one and contrasted it with the color of his shirt, giving you the one that looked more alike.

It wasn’t strange that he preferred to match the colors of your outfits, formal or not. Still being a little shy over physical affection in public, you understood this was his method of showing his love without having to touch you effusively and shut off the suspicion of Piltovan high society regarding the sudden marriage between you two.

Now your clan would possess a solid heir, one that will be irrevocably linked to Hextech, the perfect business arrangement, though not quite, not anymore. But most important, it would be a loved, long-awaited baby.

You turned your stool over the vanity, applying the creamy tint over your lips while, from the corner of your eye, you looked at Viktor buttoning his dark grey vest, golden accents shining with each movement. And then, grabbing the long black coat with its lapels decorated in abstract, starry gold patterns.

Your mother gifted you the same starry patterns in a necklace and earrings—motifs part of the family crest. When you were ready, tint dry over your lips, you stood up and Viktor took your hand so you could slide your feet inside the low-heeled black shoes that would be hidden from your long skirt anyway.

Viktor followed your gaze to your loved, comfy slippers. He was picking up your coat, the same black and patterns, but stopped when he looked at the purple lace outlined in gold swirled over the mattress.

He took the delicate lace over his hands, dexterously enveloping your high waist on it just up your rounded belly, his eyes never leaving yours as Viktor knotted the fabric in a delicate ribbon, matching up with the knot in his tie.

Viktor straightened your dress, helping you to slide inside the coat. Taking you from the shoulders to see you from a distance, humming. “Now I’m proud of my creation, yes.”

You kissed him lightly, giggling when his lips were covered in a pale shade of deep pink, almost wine, tone. "Which one of your creations are you referring to?" Your hands were patting the back of his hair, styling cream in the tip of your fingertips to fix the wispy, mahogany locks.  

"You aren't my creation, love, however, I like the result of my little… hmm, creative project. It makes your eyes shine brighter." His hands were gentle and light when touching your face, thumb patting your bottom lip, golden eyes lingering over your mouth a second longer than they should for just inspecting the final result. "Let's go. The earlier we go, the earlier we can withdraw to our room." He arched one eyebrow. "What do you say?"

"Oh, and may I ask why you want to flee my party so quickly?" You hugged him by the shoulders, your noses brushing, and with you lost in his eyes, dark lashes outlined his gaze like burned gold.

“I haven't given you your gift, don’t you want it?” His cheeks were coloring deep pink, hands interlocked around your waist. You could feel your belly against his stomach, a knot of lust curled deep inside you.

“Unless it’s you, then no.” His fingers grasped the soft skin of your hips in a tight grasp. “We’re already expecting a baby,” you added, but the word came out as babbles when Viktor led you to the bed.

You clung to his shoulders, jaw against his shoulder so your hair wouldn’t get ruined against the pillows. Viktor didn’t move further, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, smelling the special perfume you were wearing.

"You're saying it as if we couldn't have another one," he whispered, nibbling your earlobe before putting you on the edge of the mattress.

You freeze, your heart pounding like crazy inside your chest. "You'll have to earn it," you said, voice wavering.

He offered his hand for you to stand up, helping you to fix your skirt and accommodating the pins scattered around your elegant hairstyle. Out of the room, the silence enveloped you while Viktor closed the door behind his back.

Smiling mischievously in a crooked grin, he collocated one hand in the small curve of your lower back, guiding you down the hallway with your arms interlocked. You stopped at the stairs landing, before descending into the main hall and toward the garden.

Blinking, you looked at him. “What’s the matter?”

He nodded, patting your back. “I was just thinking about what you said…” Viktor tilted his head, so his lips were brushing the shell of your ear. “I will earn my fatherly rights thoroughly.” He kissed your cheek, teasing the edge of your lips. “So don’t worry, the night is still young—and there are many nights to come, don’t you agree?”

First date ft. Viktor from Arcane 

CW; reader is briefly called pretty (they're also called handsome in the same sentence), modern college AU, male reader intended, 2nd POV

 Viktor was nervous, to say the least, but he was confident in his plan. Having known you for so long, he knew a quiet night together away from studying and work would benefit the both of you. And he knew the time alone would greatly please the both of you. 

 The line between friends and more was always a bit blurred between the two of you, but recently Viktor had grown frustrated with the dance the two of you had, so he had asked you out on a date. He had asked you to leave the planning to him, he merely asked you to keep your Saturday night free for your date together. 

 Viktor refused to share any detail on what he had planned, but the glint in his eyes told you he had something up his sleeve. Usually, you’d make a joke and tease him, but something about his smile made you let it go. He was just so cute when he was excited. 

 Viktor had come up with the plan to take you to the planetarium. He had made a deal with a friend to let him use the planetarium when it was supposed to be closed. He knew he could take you to some field and see the stars there, but he figured it’d be more comfortable for the both of you, plus his leg provided an extra layer of difficulty. And at least this way, he was sure the two of you would have privacy.

 He was definitely nervous. He felt this date would determine which side of the line the two of you would remain on, and he hoped with everything in him that the two of you would begin dating after that night. At the very least, he wanted you to enjoy this date, and he was going to make sure you enjoyed your time with him.

 He had gotten to the planetarium before you. He planned to set out some things, a little speaker, a blanket, and, of course, a basket full of snacks and some takeout. He also had to learn how to use the projector, courtesy of a crash course from his friend, and some extra notes as a reminder for later. 

 He definitely got Jayce, or a mutual friend, to take you to the planetarium wanting the location to remain a secret until you got there. He wanted to keep you on your toes. 

 Meeting you outside, he greeted you with a pretty bouquet. He had no idea what flowers you would like, or if you even had a favorite, so he got a mixed bouquet that included followers that were your favorite color. 

 He stumbled over his words when he first saw you, he had told you there was no need to dress formally and to just wear whatever was comfortable for you, but that doesn’t mean seeing you dressed for your date made him any less breathless. He always found you handsome, pretty, it didn't matter what you were wearing or how you looked, he always found you attractive. 

 He was so incredibly content having you here with him, he was happy to know that the two of you could reciprocate feelings more openly. 

 Helping you get comfortable in the dark was a lot more nerve-racking than Viktor expected, but he definitely didn't hate holding your hand to lead you toward the blanket he had set out. 

Viktor was definitely rambling at this point, but it was endearing, especially when he tried to ensure you were comfortable. Not wanting to embarrass himself anymore, Viktor made his way to the projector. 

You could hear Viktor shuffling away. “I'm, uh, not an expert on this, so we shall see how this goes,” Viktor mumbled nervously. Just from his voice, you could tell he was making one of his humorous expressions.

“This isn’t my area of expertise, but please, enjoy the show,” he joked, and suddenly the ceiling lit up. 

A starry night sky was projected onto the ceiling. You would never be able to see the sky like this outside in the city, it was beautiful, and you voiced the thought. “I know,” Viktor whispered from next to you.

“You said you missed the stars, so I… thought of this.” 

Are there any AU’s you’d like to explore but haven’t had the chance to yet?

Hoo boy . . . hmm . . . alright so off the top of my head, for muses? What comes to mind are the AUs I developed for BALLISTER, SQUALL, CHRIS & JAYCE. A lot of these I have built with others, & for future reference, I will jump usually on any chance to build a verse / au with someone and grow invested if it’s offered my way. I thrive off creating things & when I have someone to bounce ideas off & know they’re just as invested I go extra feral. Either way, buckle in, I’m going to try gushing a bit more on these below. The only reason I haven’t dug into them more as of late is fatigue on my end irl & other hyperfixations luring my attention, but they will always hold my entire heart with what’s been made for them so far.

I. BALLISTER BOLDHEART ( … ) In an AU developed lovingly with @ambrosius-goldenlion, we call it the Nemesis AU, yes that link leads to the tag if you’d like to look through it! Basically! It’s an AU where Ambrosius leans into the lies the Director feeds him & his & Bal’s dynamic overall starts to mirror their comic counterparts a lot more closely. It is a darker verse, one where Ballister lashes out, leans into his perceived Villain role a lot more readily if only out of spite, but also tries his best to clear his name without Goldenloin’s aid.

Think messy break up, but way worse because your ex is trying to quite literally kill you & wholeheartedly believes you’re a monster in human skin. Its description is . . . Butchered in how I’m describing it, but honestly, I highly urge people interested in it to poke Mako cause they pour so much love & care into it, & how they’ve put time into exploring, theorizing & building their HCS for Amb in that verse hurt my soul but inspire me & blow me away.

II. SQUALL LEONHART ( … ) For Squall, I actually have a handful of AU’s I’d love to do more with! One on Discord rn, I am building up with @wayfaringnobody & @myristicisms for a zombie apocalypse au with Zack & Roxas with Squall where it’s a lot of found family mixed in with angst through trying to survive in a harsh world.

For another with him, I have a few lovely AU’s made again with Mako over at @defiant-ex-soldiers for a werewolf AU with Squall & Cloud, & another one where they’re both forced to marry & are the respective leaders of their nations needing to band together in the face of war coming both their ways.

Another is our beloved Ghost AU that has Squall acting as a wandering spirit tethered to his griever pendant. Unable to move on, he relies on Cloud’s help in unraveling the mystery behind his death so he can move on & stop haunting his home.

Another is one I’m building up with @reveromantique’s Seifer, more for their verse with Seifer holding Sorceress abilities & Squall steps up to try helping him anchor & control those flaring abilities. It leads to Knighting & a bunch of other fun angsty goodness but so far those two have been stabbing me right in the heart with each reply.

Either way, I’d love to poke more at these. There’s even a few KH ones like Leon’s Nobody verse too, I just have trouble trying to poke people to get things started for it or how to flesh it out more then what I have so far 😔

III. CHRIS REDFIELD ( … ) I just talked to friends on Disco about this—- LEGIT— but I do have a Rogue Agent verse for Chris I’d absolutely love to explore more of. Basically he decides to go rogue from the BSAA & slips into More mercenary work, striking vigilante Justice in his own way in taking down cropping up bio-research facilities that tackle things similar to Umbrella/Tricell/Neo-Umbrella research.

He’s realized post RE5/RE6 that nothing will change if left as they are now, things will continue in a long cycle unless he takes initiative to take out the threats before they have a chance to strike out. He also realizes that the government seems to be peddling a lot of incidents or brushing them under the rug, hence his more vicious, angry nature in this verse. Also a very early awakening to realizing the BSAA is no better than those companies they try to stop, building their own collection of bioweapons. He basically just takes his fight against Bioterrorism & turns it into a one man war.

IIII. JAYCE TALIS ( … ) ALL I HAVE TO SAY IS I HAVE SEEN ART FOR JAYCE & VIK BEING SWAPPED VIA ZAUN!JAYCE & PILTOVER!VIKTOR & SWIRLING THOUGHTS ON HOW TO DO A THING WITH THAT HAVE NOT LEFT ME—

*♡ Munday Meme ♡. 📨

idea. After jayce makes his offer, sister reader at vander's statue offers to silco to take full blame for jinx' actions. And that silco can hand her over if it means jinx will be safe and he gets his dream. And jinx overhears this

Liking your idea, thank you anon! Also this will be less story centered than the last one and instead more focused on Jinx's feelings and response.

Silco's reaction can be read here!

Jinx x Sister Reader - Headcannons of Reader Willing to Sacrifice Herself For Jinx (Platonic)

Warnings : None

Once overhearing your talk with Silco, she's a mix of emotions.

One part of her is very distraught and lost, why would you give yourself to them to save her and Silco's dream?

She's basically been through so much to the point where she thinks less of herself and more of you and Silco.

Another part of her is angry at Piltover and partially at Silco because if it wasn't for his hunger for power, this wouldn't have happened. You wouldn't have to choose between yourself and her.

This causes an internal conflict. She both hates and loves Silco at that point although this tips the scale slightly over towards hate.

Afterwards, she would probably try to confront you and talk about what she heard you say.

You can say everything you want to try and convince her to let you go but it won't work.

She won't let you go through with it, inacting her plans before you're able to give yourself over to Jayce which would result in what happens at the end of episode 9.

You're her sister, the one that wasn't taken from her. She isn't letting what happened to Vi, happen to you.

a hope at risk (part 4) [FINAL]

Genres: angst, 99% canon (eps 6-9), more angst, eventual smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of)

Pairing: Viktor/Female Reader

Warnings: Near character death (episode 9 fishbones scenes), mentions of injury

Summary: For nearly two decades after you waltzed out of Viktor’s life as the childhood friend who broke his heart, he hoped to forget you. Now that you’re back, firmly settled in his life and his arms, he wants nothing more than to live, to love, to dream. With a terminal diagnosis you’ve yet to learn about in a city waiting to erupt into war, however, Viktor realizes this is a fight for survival against all odds. But he can’t lose you again. He won’t. He hopes.

Chapters: Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2 [M] | Part 3 | Part 4 [FINAL]

Chapter Word Count: ~8.8k

Author Notes: Unedited. Sequel to a hope never forgotten. This work can be read independently of its predecessor – though reading that first will more thoroughly contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship. Prequel summarized below for those who don’t have time to read it!

Prequel summary: If you are reading this without having seen the previous work, this is the debrief: YN is Heimerdinger’s adopted daughter; YN and Viktor are childhood friends who grew up together between the ages of 10-16 and separated at 16 immediately after an unspoken confession of love. The uncertainty and cowardice of youth prevent YN from keeping contact until twelve years pass. Over the next five years the two keep orbiting each other, gravity pulling them closer, until Viktor’s hospital stint as per Episode 5 forces YN to reckon with their lifetime of love. The end of A Hope Never Forgotten sees Viktor’s seventeen-year-long hope and longing fulfilled.

A Hope Never Forgotten follows Arcane canon up to Episode 5; this work will follow Arcane canon until the end of all currently available content (Episode 9). This piece borrows themes from prior League of Legends lore, but following the events of Episode 9 it will become an imagined ‘what comes next’ as we wait for the events of Season 2.

The prior work deals primarily with holding onto hope; this one deals with themes of loss and survival. Both are about decisions made and avoided.

——————————————————-

There’s a sharp ringing in Jayce’ head. Everything else is muffled. He thinks he hears screaming, but it sounds like he’s underwater. Still, the noise reverberates off his skull and he winces at the pain that sears through his head. He staggers off of the table—huh? Off of the table? Why was he— Flashes of memory burst through his aching mind. “Jayce has brokered… a peace… with Silco, in exchange for the Undercity’s independence.”   Jayce hears a woman—Mrs. Kiramman, he thinks—exclaim in protest. The room bursts into sound, Councilmembers shouting over each other, papers being thrown, and fists banging on the table. He glances at Mel, who wears a mix of expressions across her delicate features. He and Viktor are immovable; they allow the room to clamor and clash. They’d made their decision to be steadfast. His eyes scan the room as angry life flares around him, but his heart is solely attuned to Mel. She is surprisingly quiet, eyes downcast as she fiddles with the ring she always wears; a memento from her youth in Noxus. In a rare lull of heavily-breathed quiet, she interjects. She raises one regal hand, then votes with him.  Her seat is lit, and she levels her Councilmates with an even, steady gaze. One by one, the votes are cast. The others know their hands are tied; Piltover is out of other options besides all-out-war. This is what’s best. The room lights up with every passing vote, and as a unanimity is reached, Jayce allows himself another glance at his lover.  She smiles encouragingly at him, and he returns it with a hopeful gaze of his own. Behind him, Viktor leans on his crutch as he struggles to straighten in celebration.   Mel’s spine straightens. She turns her head to the side. And then everything disappears. There’s crying. Screeching. Lamenting. Images start to finally make sense to his brain—must be concussed, he thinks. When pixels sort themselves in his mind, he sees the light first, then registers the heat from the flames. It’s chaos—chaos everywhere, a thousandfold times worse than the fateful explosion in his apartment a decade before. Mel, his brain gasps, and he staggers to his right where she should have been. His eyes move faster than the camera-feed they provide to his brain, and the image lags. She finally comes into focus, slumped over the table with her arms reached out. “MEL!” Jayce roars, clumsily lunging towards her. She doesn’t stir, doesn’t react. He shakes her, harder than he probably should, but she doesn’t respond. He raises trembling fingers to check for a pulse; it’s there, it’s faint, but she’s alive. Only later does he remember that she looks wholly unharmed, and only later do they realize that she’s the reason they’re not all dead. Some people carrying stretchers rush past him; Jayce wonders how long he’s been unconscious. He watches in a dissociative state as they load Mel onto one and take her away. A medic tries to talk to him but all he hears is gibberish; he waves them off and stumbles towards his left, where he thinks Viktor was. A limp, mangled mess of thin limbs twitches on the floor. Broken shards of glass are scattered all around it, as are shredded pieces of wooden chair. A puddle of molten plastic and aluminum wilts nearby, partly draped over the figure’s arm. No. A medic grabs at his arm, but Jayce rips himself free and drops to his knees. Glass pierces through his clothing and digs into his skin, but he can’t feel it. He tries his best to scrape off the molten materials, but the figure twitches again. This time, it moans, a wretched sound of pain. “Viktor?” “Jayce?” Viktor’s familiar rasp is barely audible above the din of disaster. “OVER HERE!” Jayce bellows, ordering the medics closer to Viktor. The rest of it is a blur; the form that is supposedly his best friend gets hauled onto a stretcher and taken away. —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------   You sit by Viktor’s side, listening to the beep of his monitoring devices as you reread his letter again and again into the dark of the night. The beeps remind you that he is still alive; you will the machine to give him just one more beep, then another, then just one more. How many more beeps will he have? How many beeps have you already used up, living in the dark about his condition when it seemed like so many others knew? (Heimerdinger came with you to the hospital and was surprised to see the look of horror on your face when Viktor’s doctor gave you his full prognosis). “I’m surprised he’s even alive,” the exhausted doctor had sighed. “He’s a very lucky man. Councilwoman Medarda’s defenses certainly shielded him from the brunt of the impact, but as you know, Viktor was already on his way out. If injuries don’t get him, then the smoke from the resulting fires might. We’re doing our best to keep him oxygenated, but we were already surprised that he woke up the last time. We’ll do what we can for palliative care, but we suggest you execute any of his wishes soon.” Heimerdinger made a sad noise of agreement, and you’d whirled on your father. How was he not surprised? Had he known Viktor was already near death? The guilt across your father’s features had said enough. The sheets of parchment crumple in your fist; some pages are already fraying at the edges, softened by the moisture of your tears. You fade in and out of restless sleep, your body aching from the irregular positions. But each time you wake, you listen intently for another beep. Each time you wake, your mind is pulled to Viktor’s words; the second experiment would have worked. It could save him. A tiny fragment of your brain whispers to you that Viktor wanted the Hexcore destroyed, that the guilt had consumed him. But the rest of your thoughts are louder, consumed with the possibility that this may not be the end for him. It didn’t have to be the end. A nurse comes into the room to change his IV; she returns shortly after to give you a small cup of chamomile tea. You drink it without registering any flavors before drifting back into cyclically poor sleep, your fingers laced into Viktor’s. —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

As a councilman, victim, lover, and friend, Jayce finds himself wrapped up in a whirlwind of disaster recovery tasks. Pulled in a million directions, he wants nothing more than to scream into the void, stop his work, and retreat—never did he imagine he would be asked this many questions, witness this much pain and suffering (of his closest friends and colleagues, no less), be tasked with saving and rebuilding a hurting government, all the while trying desperately to maintain a shred of hope that peace might still be reached between Piltover and the Undercity. It had been so close to being brokered, with the Council agreeing with his proposal to give Zaun its independence without violence — until all hell broke loose. Naturally, the upper-city folk and his people condemn the act of terrorism and chomp at the bit to be up at arms. As he listens in on loud, heated council meetings, he clenches his fists in his lap. He can feel a ghost of the bite of cold metal in his palms from the ‘Mercury Hammer’ (as Mel jokingly called it once), and every time he closes his fingers and squeezes he can feel the hammer taking that child’s life. Again, and again, and again. Open, close. Open, close. His breath shallows and his sight narrows as the arguments in this council session become rowdy. Around him, wind whips against the makeshift tarpauline ‘windows’ strung to the charred metal frame of the council room wall; most of the jagged glass has been cleared away, but other evidence of destruction still remains. Jayce sees it most in the bandages covering starting-to-heal wounds from his fellow council folk, but he feels it best from the sting of his own scars as he flexes the muscles in his fists. Thin, jagged cuts pepper his hands and his face (the few parts of skin that had been exposed to the blast); part of his eyebrow is missing, and a piece of gauze above his left eyelid makes it still-uncomfortable to blink. He hadn’t wanted this. All he and Viktor aimed to do was use Hextech for the betterment of society, to invent, to create, and to live. He wasn’t a politician by nature the way Mel was, and Jayce is all the more aware of it as he sits among the broken remains of the Council without her. She’d offered to come to session, of course, being in considerably better shape than someone sitting in direct line of the rocket should have. But having borne the brunt of the explosion, she wasn’t in perfect condition, and Jayce fought her until she agreed to rest. (He promised to have a council scribe bring a transcript of the session immediately after). Jayce’ thoughts are everywhere but the actual Council discussion, but he forces himself to shut everything out and make it through. Once another inconclusive and incendiary session ends, he remains in his seat even after most of the lights are turned off and everyone else leaves. Eventually, he becomes uncomfortable staying in such an unlucky room, and leaves for the familiar halls of the laboratory. There, the quiet tinkering noises of equipment are the same as they’ve always been. Looking for answers, he slumps into Viktor’s stool; the older man had always been the smarter one, more reserved and less headstrong. Perhaps sitting in his place would bring some ideas to the Councilman. The Hexcore hisses, shivering a little as Jayce gives it a sidelong glance. The purple light it casts catches on a few sheets of paper, fluttering in a stale breeze. Jayce follows the movement, noticing loose paper tucked into a worn leather-bound notebook. He tilts his head, angling for a better look. Then he reaches for it. The Hexcore glows a deeper shade of purple in response. It seems... pleased. In front of him lies Viktor’s notebook. It challenges him, goads him, taunts him to open its pages and witness what lies within. This has never once occurred in their long years inventing together; Viktor shares some of his other notes, certainly, but never this notebook.  Never the leather-bound tome of scrap paper he scribbles in furiously and protects with private passion. In recent weeks, as Jayce came to the lab less and less, he’d noticed Viktor mostly working in this notebook—the chalkboard and lab desks hadn’t been piled upon with other sheets of his scribblings. Whatever was within this book doubled as the reason Viktor adamantly wanted the Hexcore destroyed. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jayce shuts the door to Viktor’s hospital room behind him as quietly as he can, but your head shoots up at the slightest sound of his shoes against the linoleum. Hot tears streaming down your cheeks and blurring your vision, you run towards Jayce with a strangled sob. When you reach him, you beat your fists against his chest; above you, he looks miserable and doesn’t make any attempt to stop you – you’re too fraught and not strong enough to hurt him, and truth be told he wishes you might be able to do some damage. Perhaps it would then count as penance for him allowing his mentor, his friend, his partner to die far too early. “You have to save him, Jayce,” you sob, clutching now at the lapels of his jacket. “Please. It’s the only way. I can’t lose him again – I can’t – I–” You shove the pages of Viktor’s letter against him, and he takes them from you to quickly scan. His eyes widen as Viktor’s confession unlocks the mysteries behind Viktor’s notes; he know knows exactly how to interpret the scribblings in Viktor’s notebooks and Sky’s supplemented suggestions. Jayce wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tight as his heart seizes in his chest. His stomach sinks impossibly low, churning in his torso with the strong discomfort of unwise decisions. There have only been a few times he’s felt this poorly; the first was when his mother was near-death; another was seconds after he said to Viktor’s face that the Zaunites were dangerous threats to his Piltovan world. The next was when he saw the light leave the little Zaunite boy’s eyes in Silco’s facility. He hadn’t anticipated experiencing it for a fourth time, but here he was, forced to make yet another decision he was underprepared for. Above your head, Jayce curses aloud. His voice comes out mangled, and it’s only then that he realizes he, too, is crying. Through the glossy sheen of his tears, his gaze lifts to the vibrating purple light of the Hexcore. His eyes narrow; it’s different. The runes are gone and in their place are gaping holes that light radiates through. The core is alive, very much so, and it doesn’t take any effort to understand that there is something wicked about it. This feels like bargaining with evil, and Jayce thought brokering a deal with his Undercity rival Silco had been the true form of it. Now he knows that Silco, like him, is a man born and bred of circumstance; someone forced to make decisions that others couldn’t or wouldn’t – someone simply trying to survive. None of this was supposed to happen. The deal should have gone through, despite Council objections – the Zaunites would be free, and the Piltovans left to re-negotiating access to the resources in the fissures, new trade deals to be created. “Jayce,” your voice is muffled against his chest. “Please. Save him. Only you can.” He pulls away at that, his hands firmly grasping your shoulders. Jayce’ eyes bear into yours, searching for confirmation that this is the right thing, that this should be done. What he finds, however, is a dangerous blend of uncertainty and worry – but above all, desperation. It’s the same he feels in his own heart and soul. Jayce swallows, hard, his own gaze extremely unsure. But he takes your hands in his and makes a promise to you that breaks the one he made to Viktor. He’ll understand, Jayce tries to convince himself. Viktor wanted to build out his life, in love. He’ll forgive me for this. Then he leans down to kiss gently at your hairline – the consolation of a brother. With slow, deliberate steps, he strides to Viktor’s workbench and faces the Hexcore. He doesn’t turn towards you when he speaks, but merely tilts his face towards his shoulder. You can’t tell if he’s hiding his face in shame, or guilt, or the weight of his decisions. “You should go home,” Jayce says quietly. “If you could just check on Mel before you leave, I’ll take care of everything else.” You nod, not that he can see – and you quickly scurry out of the lab, wiping your eyes with your sleeve and trying your best to choke down your sobs. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You sit on the grand staircase at the Heimderdinger Estate, letting the cold of the cavernous room seep into your bones. Your gaze falls absently on the tiled patterns in the floor; a flicker of lamplight catches the corners of the glaze and dances back and forth. A warmth suddenly surrounds your shoulders and you start, glancing around you for the source of the change. One step above you, your father looks at you with a sad, affectionate smile. “All will be alright in due time, my love,” he says, voice small and rueful. He doesn’t know the half of it. He’s aware you’re distressed over the attack on the Academy, and even more so worried about Viktor’s comatose state in the hospital. But you and Jayce carefully agreed to keep mum about Viktor’s notes and the clandestine effort to leverage the Hexcore against the strings of fate. You know full well how furious your father would be if he found out what you had chosen to do, and to his protege of an almost-adopted son, no less. It’s not like you can’t understand the sentiment; you also wanted nothing to do with the arcane, but when given the choice between your morality and your last hope to save the love of your life who you’d nearly lost twice, it was a simple decision to make. No; Heimerdinger thinks you are simply waiting for news that Viktor moved on to the next life, mourning your love in advance. He sits down on the step above, you, pulling at your shoulder to tuck you into his very small embrace. “We must have hope,” his voice falters, his words failing to be convincing. He’s a Yordle of science; one look at Viktor’s charts would be more than enough to write him off as a dead man walking. You hum sadly into his harms, electing not to say a word of agreement—you know that you have one last thread of real, not platitudinal, hope. But even with the potential of Viktor’s impeccable notes working out, and even with Jayce successfully restoring his lab-mate from the brink of death, you can’t help but feel the cold fingers of fear grip at your heart. Heimerdinger’s feeble attempts at comforting you through his own preemptive and misplaced mourning do, somehow, help. A small hand rubs tender circles into your back, reminding you of the warmth from the shawl he draped over you not minutes ago. Hope. What a useless currency, and yet sometimes it could be more valuable than gold. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Caitlyn Kiramman comes calling a few days later, her lips pressed into a tight line of disapproval. It’s odd for her; you’d gotten closer to her as you’d gotten closer to both Viktor and Jayce, and you’d certainly seen her and her parents at the many galas you either ran or attended. It’s even odder knowing that her mother is in a similar state to Viktor; while her health had been impeccably managed, she was no longer the spring chicken she used to be and recovery from the blast had been painful from what you’d heard. Thus you were surprised to see Caitlin at the front door of the Heimerdinger Estate; this was the last place you expected to see her that wasn’t her mother’s private hospital bedside. “I don’t know what you and Jayce were planning—” Caitlin raises a perfectly poised hand to stop you as you begin to open your mouth to explain. “— And I don’t want to know, either. But whatever it is you needed Zaunite contraband for, Jayce wanted me to tell you that it worked. Whatever it is.” You blink at her, mouth agape. Thoughts fly through your head before you finally put them in order and deduce what you need to. You’d read Viktor’s notes in excruciating detail before passing his journal to Jayce, and as you squinted at his scrawl you made out a few references (in discreet code) to the Undercity’s Shimmer. Perhaps you didn’t exactly want to know those particulars of Viktor’s survival, but you quickly understand that Jayce sacrificed his own moral code to save his friend. It must have taken deep humility and shame to ask Caitlyn, of all people, to help him procure some of the illicit drug, knowing that Caitlyn would be his best chance at getting any in the midst of the two-city turmoil. “…Thank you,” you can only say. Your hand reaches for Caitlyn’s before she can turn on her heel and make a speedy exit; her gentle but keen gaze catches yours and she softens as she notices the undertones in your gratitude. She recognizes at once that you realized she supplied the Shimmer, and the tight muscles around her lips relax somewhat. “Whatever it was, it must have been worth it,” she murmurs, pulling you close to her for a quick, tight hug. “Otherwise Jayce would never have asked me, begging him to keep this a secret from Mel.” “It was,” you reply, eyes misty. “I know it was.” “However, don’t make him ever do that again,” Caitlyn sighs, her tone sharp nonetheless. Your spine straightens and you nod—you don’t want to have to go through this ordeal once more, either, and the last thing you want to do is jeopardize Jayce’ reputation among his closest friends. This was a one-time thing, and you know it. Caitlyn’s eyes burn into yours, fiery with the fierce devotion of best friendship. You recognize that look; it’s the same fervor that lives within your own eyes whenever anyone thinks about crossing Viktor. With a curt nod in recognition of your silent agreement, Caitlyn briskly makes her exit. As she retreats, your legs fail you and you slump against the grand doorway, trying to catch your breath as your brain screams ‘VIKTOR IS ALIVE!’ —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jayce grinds in his teeth, slumped over in the uncomfortably small chair with his head hung in his hands. Whatever coffee he drank hours ago has long worn off, and it’s only the gentle bubbling of the various medical devices attached to Viktor that keep him awake. The bubbling is a vast improvement from the alarmed screeching that rang from Viktor’s hospital room for days as Jayce, still mildly concussed from the blast, puttered around the room with the door locked and Viktor’s notes strewn over the hospital bed. He’d figured out the last of Viktor’s notes the evening prior—the Hexcore needed more than just bio-organic material to bond with — he realized, only after taking a frustrated coffee break in the hospital hallway and overhearing nurses talking about illegal painkillers, that the undercity’s drug of choice may be Viktor’s only chance at surviving an such an ordeal. Only then, so belatedly, did Jayce understand what quandary Viktor had been consulting about that fateful day on the bridge. A horrible cough rises from the center of the room, honing all of Jayce’ senses onto it. His head snaps up and he takes the two strides to Viktor’s side. He’s only felt this much adrenaline coursing through him a small handful of times in his life; the first when discovering the crystals, the second when they proved Hextech worked, and the third when Mel Medarda leveled a sharp gaze of approval at him. “Viktor?” Jayce asks, voice tentative. He leans over the hospital bed, straining to inspect Viktor’s face for any signs of cognition. Another cough wracks Viktor’s lungs, jerking his torso off of the cushions, before he pulls his eyelids open with bleary effort. His eyes canvas his surroundings, noting the drab ceiling of the hospital room and the tanned expanse of Jayce’ face above his own. Viktor blinks again, feeling something in his stomach turn to heavy lead. The last thing he remembered was a bright flash of light, and then pain, and then— He feels fine now. Whatever pain was there in his last known memory was gone. But more concerningly, so was the rest of his pain—the dull ache that had been with him since childhood, the frailty that had just another fact of his life. Viktor tries to sit up unsuccessfully; the motion sends him into another fit of painful, wet coughs before Jayce pushes him back down into the cushions in concern. No, no, he strains against Jayce’ grasp, surprised at his own strength as he counters the force, but even with his strange new vigor he is no match for even an injured Jayce. “What day is it?” Viktor snaps, a sharp amber glare slicing into Jayce’ own concerned irises. Startled by the roughness in Viktor’s voice coupled with the intensity behind it, Jayce answers at once: two weeks. Viktor swings himself out of the hospital bed and collapses to the floor. Jayce darts around the bed to help lift him up, but Viktor swats him away and uses the hospital bed to prop himself up. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. For most people, getting up out of a hospital bed after two weeks of unconsciousness would normally result in the newborn-giraffe display of shaking limbs he just exhibited — but not Viktor. Plagued with chronic fatigue and his aching leg, even the attempt to climb out of bed after a virus-induced fever would have been near-impossible, and when he first fainted and woke up presumably in this very same room, he needed several days to even remotely feel like he could sit upright. He doesn’t feel great, but this is what his normal feels like. And coming out of a comatose state should be nothing but normal — he should be lying in that bed, barely able to converse, and not staggering around his room within minutes of waking. “What did you do?” Viktor whispers, hand gripping the footboard so hard his knuckles are moon-white. “What did you do to me?” He repeats the question, and Jayce goes pale. When Jayce doesn’t respond, Viktor lifts his gaze. The fear in Jayce’s eyes must mirror his own. In them, he finds clues to answer his question; as he flicks his eyes towards the sheets of parchment lying haphazardly on hospital furniture, it all begins to click. “You didn’t,” Viktor says, his voice low and aghast. His mind screams at him. You didn’t use the accursed Hexcore I asked you to destroy, to save me! You can’t have! But another, foreign portion of his brain roars for his conscience to be silent; his head pounds with the loudness of his internal battle. Jayce swallows thickly. “I did. We… we couldn’t lose you.” Viktor’s ears catch one pivotal word. “We?” Jayce wonders where things went so wrong; he’s torn between being elated that Viktor seems in good health and severely spooked by the haunted disappointment in Viktor’s voice. He nods, knowing that this is the worst possible time to lie. “She brought me your notes,” Jayce explains lamely as he gestures at some of the papers. Viktor goes incredibly still. Both men stay locked in the other’s intense gaze, carrying out a multitude of conversation in perfect silence. Then Viktor’s brows furrow, his expression hardens. “Get out.” “What? I’m here to help you, you need food and water and I have to contact her—“ “GET OUT!” Viktor roars. From the way Jayce nearly jumps out of his skin, Viktor can tell that his mentee and friend is as surprised by the strength in Viktor’s voice as he is. But to his credit, Jayce — this time — complies with the command and sees himself out. In the quiet that settles in Jayce’ wake, Viktor slowly walks towards the small side table where his worn leather notebook lies open to his last scribblings. The pages don’t tell the story of Sky’s death. The scrawl doesn’t document the pain he endured as she tore him from the Hexcore’s insidious grasp. He turns a page with one finger, flipping it over to expose the blank sheets that remain. He had resigned himself to his death, willing to take upon himself the guilt of having a friend’s blood stain his hands in the name of his research. He had been prepared to give his near-final goodbyes to you and to hope his scientific legacy was otherwise kept pure. But now he can hear the whisperings of corruption in his ear, feel the allure of strength and vitality that he’d never been privileged to have. The voice is greedy; it stirs memories of jealousy and wistfulness in him that he has taken decades to suppress and overcome. Viktor had wanted none of this, preferring to leave this world steadfast to his convictions, values, and his commitment to do good for the least of these. Now, his convictions are called into question. But he knows what this all means. He knows, in the least, his life has been extended, his final deadline pushed back for now—for good and for bad, from pure or impure motivations. Back turned to the dim overhead light, Viktor stands alone in his hospital gown. He stares down at his hand, experimentally stretching his palm open before squeezing his fist shut. A shiver of his previous muscoskeletal weakness ripples through his nervous system; it’s a familiar sensation that almost feels like an old, tired friend. It serves as a reminder that he is still himself despite this cursed strength now living inside him. Bolstered by this recognition, he silently vows to himself any improbable deity who may be listening that he will not draw upon the Hexcore’s power for anything but necessary sustenance of his life. He flips pulls out a loose sheet from the notebook, recognizing Sky’s handwriting. Viktor crushes the paper into his palm, promising a dead friend that he wouldn’t succumb to the very thing that destroyed her. He would not let the Hexcore control him. Everything is changed. Viktor knows he must do the same in order to adapt to the new lease on life he’s been given. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor refuses to allow you back into his hospital room. He doesn’t scream at you, he doesn’t throw anything at you — no, he is ever the picture of politeness and gentleness with you as he always has been. Instead, he very quietly instructs you to leave him be in a voice so low and tested that you know not to push your concerns further. When he’s given the all-clear to return home by a very surprised and somewhat fearful doctor, Viktor elects to sleep on the couch (against your protests). Considering the span of your relationship, you’re physically the closest you’ve been for the majority of your lives, and yet Viktor feels more distant than he has ever been before. He is still kind and ever-so-polite, but a line between you has been firmly drawn and Viktor shows no intentions of crossing it. You ask him a timid question once in the first few days of his silence: whether he still loves you. He visibly flinches at your request, but calmly reassures you that his feelings have not changed. It is, in fact, the truth. But he refrains from answering your other questions with real answers, and you soon leave him be. You communicate in other ways; in sandwiches left out and dishes cleaned afterward—in coffee brewed before you wake, in laundry neatly folded. Sometimes Viktor wakes up from a midday nap with a blanket tucked around him; other times you come back home to an empty apartment and a still-warm dinner on the stove. You carry on in this loving, yet quiet detente until one day you return to see Viktor leaning against the kitchen counter, packed bags at his feet. “What is going on?” You ask, slowing your pace and eyeing his suitcases suspiciously. “I’m moving out,” he says matter-of-factly, tugging on the glove he uses to hide his metal hand. “It’s not fair for you to live like this, tip-toeing around me.” “I’m not tip-toeing,” you interject quickly, alarm bells going off in your head. “I’m just being patient; I’ve been waiting for you to open up and talk to me whenever you were ready!” He pushes off the counter, straightens his back, and dusts the front of his jacket. “Well, I’m not ready. I need time and space to think.” “I could just move back to Father’s—” “Do that,” he hisses, voice tight. “It’s where you belong. I… I don’t belong here. Not anymore.” “Viktor!” Your voice pitches higher, scolding with the use of his full name. “You belong with me, where else would you go?” He looks dismayed, but resolute. “Somewhere. Anywhere. A place that isn’t here; a place that isn’t Piltover. Sparrow, I’m not meant to be alive right now, much less augmented to high heavens with a magical metallic energy I haven’t begun to understand.” He gestures at his body, pulls off his glove, and raps his metal knuckles on the granite counter. A loud clang fills the space between you, and you wince at the sharp sound. Viktor watches as you react to his display of aberration, and it only cements his plans in his mind. Against his better judgment, he steps forward, as compelled by you as he always has been. He reaches up to your face quickly as he notices tears start to fall; you hadn’t even noticed them yourself in the midst of your rising internal panic. Viktor cups your cheeks; one side is distinctly colder and harder than the other, and the sensation is jarring. “Sparrow,” Viktor exhales, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes flutter shut. “I can’t be with you until I can figure out who I am with all of this. I won’t risk endangering you when I’m not confident I can control what feels like corruption inside me, much less so when it’s this corruption that keeps me alive. And I can’t be with you if I haven’t yet settled how I feel about the fact that you and Jayce both went behind my back and my ethical code to give me another chance at life.” His words settle in your intermingled breaths. Not sure how to respond, you lift your head just a few millimeters, indicating your attempts to understand him while giving him the space to determine what to do next. You want to ask him to stay. No—you want to beg him to stay, because you can’t go on like this, waiting to lose him again and again and again. But this time, letting him go is a distinct choice. This time, it’s not you leaving him without a backward glance; it’s not two teenagers scared of their feelings and their futures, and it’s not a dying man waiting out his last days. Viktor’s breath is warm on your lips, while half of his torso is cool to your touch. His nose bumps into yours as he sways where he stands. You instinctually reach out to steady him, but Viktor, in his renewed body, rights himself. Then he pulls you the last few millimeters into him, his lips soft on yours as he tries to communicate a multitude of emotions in a single gesture. Something feral in his brain purrs; he tries to stifle the immediate attraction that he’s always had to you, especially considering that arousal would be highly inappropriate at the moment. With much mental effort, the stimulated presence in his brain recedes and shrinks back, dormant but ever-present. Whatever energy the Hexcore gave him, it was a dangerous, wild one. Yes, this is the right decision for the time being. His physical salvation had changed everything, and if he wanted to live the rest of his borrowed time with you, then he needed to be damn sure that he was capable of doing so safely. He’d already hurt you before with his secrecy and he’d already taken a life, and Viktor could not in good conscience continue living the same way he had before. “I will return to you, Sparrow,” he says gently, stroking his flesh-and-blood thumb over the curve of your cheek. “I simply do not know when.” His eyes gaze fondly, softly into yours with a questioning expression; you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe deeply before nodding once to indicate your acceptance. You keep your eyes closed as he presses his lips to your forehead, takes his bags, and leaves. You only open them once you hear his footsteps receded down the hallway, before you slide to the floor and allow yourself to cry into your arms without fear of anyone witnessing your misery. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor jogs up the front steps of the Heimerdinger Estate, knowing that you are still back at the apartment trying to pack up your affairs. It’s a small window for opportunity for him; he needs to speak to your father, privately. Staff open the door before Viktor so much as reaches the top step; he gives them a sheepish, guarded smile as he passes over the threshold. He’s taken back to Heimerdinger’s home office, a stylishly quaint room that’s seen many of the pair’s lengthy discussions from years prior. “Viktor, my boy,” Heimerdingers sighs, peering down his glasses at his protégé. Viktor settles into the same chair he always rents when visiting the office; the desk itself, and Heimerdinger’s modified seating, looms over him even with his own human height. “You have always been like a son to me.” The professor’s double meaning of Viktor as surrogate son and Viktor as virtual son-in-law is not lost on the younger scientist. He knows what this means; if the Yordle opens any meeting with sentimentality, the meeting is likely to end with difficult news. “I am… sorry, my boy, that the events in our world have transpired in this fashion.” “I should have heeded your warning,” Viktor chuckles dryly. “But I only did so too late.” Heimerdinger is silent for a spell, thinking about how Viktor indeed tried to correct his path and how it was your decision to push your lover past the point of no return in exchange for his life. It was easy to understand why you did it despite the questionable ethics, but it was difficult for Heimerdinger as a father to watch his children stand on the precipice of tearing themselves apart. “All water under the bridge now, I’m afraid. There are more pressing matters to attend to.” Viktor nods. Heimderdinger continues. “I’ve taken your proposal back to Jayce and Councilwoman Medarda privately, considering so few know about the … peculiar circumstances behind your remarkable recovery. They have agreed with our position that your affiliation with the Academy laboratory is now a liability; warmongering factions in our neighbors’ borders would not be pleased to hear that the City of Progress conducted deadly biological experiments with Hextechnology, and whisperings of international war are proving to be just as probable, if not as likely, as continued conflict between Zaun and Piltover. Even now we are struggling to patch together agreements between our cities; many people are scared and hurt by the attack on the Council, and public sentiment in both areas is low.” Viktor wonders where Heimerdinger gets his Zaunite intel from, but thinks against asking. If he needs to know, he will be told in due time. “I understand. I am very sorry to leave your daughter, sir, but I fully intend to ensure that my life, in whatever sinful contract I have entered into to retain it, does not interfere with hers. I’ve already decided to leave Hextech behind and focus on finding another occupation somewhere in Zaun.” Heimerdinger merely raises a small hand and glances down at the papers on his desk. “I wasn’t finished.” He squints, reads over a line or two while muttering under his breath, then glances back up at Viktor. “It would be a travesty to waste your brilliance with your new lease on life, and Zaun will have need for a motivated man of science more than ever before. We have decided to split the laboratory, sending half the resources and annual budget to a small workshop in Zaun, where you may continue your work in partnership with the Piltovan Academy.” Heimerdinger sighs again, burdened by years of knowledge. “I should have fought for independence long ago,” he says regretfully. “So much pain, so many lives lost.” Then he returns to himself. “Even as both cities continue to fight, I believe that such a partnership in scholarship may act as a beacon of hope, especially for the young and visionary folk among our two cities. You may be uniquely positioned to be a herald of peace, as a Zaunite who can relate to the experiences of your peers. A visiting professor may journey back and forth between the labs easily, and Zaunite children need someone to look up to.” Viktor shuts his mouth after belatedly realizing it had fallen agape. “But—” This was more than he ever bargained for; hell, his life was more than he’d expected to have. Though his science now scared him, he knows that there are few other purposes in life that sustain and motivate him; this, he realizes, is a second chance to do better than the mistakes of the past few years. “I--” His mentor fixes him with a piercing sky-blue stare. “Innovation and collaboration between the future generation of our people is the only way to shared success,” Heimerdinger warns. “Shying away from the world and wasting your talents out of fear and regret does everyone, and especially yourself, a disservice. We all still need you, Viktor, even with your augments and even as you change.” Then the Yordle hops off of his chair and steps around his desk, taking flurried steps towards the boy he helped raise into a man. “My boy,” he places Viktor’s hand—his metallic hand—between two smaller ones. “My daughter and I still need you, too.” He squeezes Viktor’s hands gently, then vacates his office. Viktor sits by himself in the room, turning over his surrogate father’s words, until a member of the Estate staff arrives to say that Heimerdinger has arranged for a vehicle that will take Viktor to the location of the Zaunite laboratory. Nearly an hour later, he is deposited (with his luggage) in front of a quiet, foggy side-street. He glances down the road at the street corner sign; Emberflit Alley, it reads. He chuckles to himself, recognizing the care that went into the selection of this location: somewhere quiet, somewhere mildly secluded, and yet somewhere where similarly curious minds could explore the the world of science in solitude, away from the typical stressors of Zaunite life. He takes his luggage up to the roomy-for-Zaun laboratory apartment a few floors up with relative ease; his newfound slightly-more-ablebodied-ness still startles him, but he is grateful to have parted with the intensity of pain he would normally have had while exerting half of the effort. The apartment is simply furnished, but it will suffice. He tucks away most of his things, for now, but takes care to unpack a small box full of letters, paper, and ink. Viktor sits at the small workbench in the living room, noting that Jayce sent over his own worn stool from the Academy lab. He allows himself an indulgent read of three letters, then pulls a fresh sheet from the stack of paper and begins to write. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It takes a few weeks before Viktor sends you a letter; you otherwise receive updates through Caitlin and Vi’s network of whisperers. Most updates are fairly normal; you hear about Viktor’s lab equipment deliveries and of the educational proposals he’s already submitted to a freshly sworn-in joint board of Piltovan and Zaunite schooling directors (for now, the board skews heavily towards Piltovans, but you expect this to change over time as Zaun builds its economic prosperity). You’ve written your own but have yet to send them. You’re afraid to overwhelm him as he works through his new life with Hexcore energy surging through his neurons and infiltrating his brain. It’s been long since you vacated Viktor’s old apartment; there were too many bittersweet memories there for you to remain a second longer than necessary. Thus, back in your Heimerdinger Estate you were, refusing to visit your childhood bedroom and trying your best to not be haunted by echoing of your past all over the estate. If Runeterra had been peaceful, you’d have likely lost your mind with little work to do, but the stirrings of war overseas and constant skirmishes between the Piltovan and Zaunite kept you busy because conflict kept the least privileged in suffering. Travel kept you out of the house as much as possible, even taking you to some parts of Zaun, but you maintained a respectful distance from Viktor no matter how much you longed to run to him. You had to trust his words and trust his process, as difficult as it was. (That being said, you gave yourself a cutoff of three months; one fiscal quarter seemed a good enough time to go without so much as a single check-in). Thus you were surprised to see a letter on your desk after returning from a rather harrowing aide trip to Noxus, written on in Viktor’s familiar and warm scrawl. You tear the envelope open immediately and quickly drop into your seat (you’re not sure if your legs might handle whatever the letter’s contents might say). Dearest, You are missed. Sorely. I hope you know that. I am apologetic that this first communication comes after weeks of silence. I, of course, wanted to reach out to you sooner, but felt it was… premature. I’ve made what I consider to be good progress with the Zaun School, though I regret to admit that I’ve been making more headway with formal work projects than with my own metaphysical learnings. But I’ve not been idle on that front, either; the more I experiment with myself and with both Hextech and the Hexcore, the more I begin to understand it and build firm boundaries between myself as part machine and part magic, and myself as the Viktor you’ve always known. What I believe is that I am reaching the limits of what I can uncover and remediate on my own. I yearn for you much in the same fashion as I have for decades now, but I would like to be careful not only with my own feelings, but with your safety. If possible, I would love to see you soon; to hear your voice and see you smile, and to perhaps start over from the beginning (for I feel as though I am a new person). Our decisions in this fraught time have changed us all, but the Viktor I am today would like to meet the Sparrow you are now. If you’ll have me, I’d like to love and learn together once more, though perhaps at a slower pace than our first reunion was like. I will warn you, however, that this road will be difficult. I will understand if you’d prefer not to attempt to rekindle what we might have otherwise lost; while I may have a stronger grasp of what the Hexcore is doing to my brain and body in isolation, I will be learning just as you are how this energy inside me reacts to powerful emotions and sensations—around you, all my senses are acute. Your safety, emotionally and physically, has always been my priority, and I will not hesitate to separate myself from you if ever I feel I’m endangering you. But I’ve been told by your father that I should be more forthcoming with my own desires rather than bottling them up to be known by myself alone, especially when they come to you. He said… that you might need me. And I have long needed you. I will make every accommodation necessary to make it easier for us to be together, if you’re willing to try again. I’ve packed other unsent letters from the past few weeks with this one if it helps provide insight into my…learnings. I hope they don’t scare you off. In your love, Vitya You pen your response immediately. My love, Patience has never been my strong suit, but I wouldn’t have waited so quietly if I was looking to go down an easy path. We’ve gone through hell and back several times now, Vik, and it would be more surprising if either of us didn’t have anything to process. None of us made it out unscathed. I’m scared. You should know that. You’re probably scared, too. You briefly mentioned that the Hexcore is a greedy thing, that you could feel it trying to consume you. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to fuse with a primordial energy, let alone survive the process. But whatever happens to you, you’re still you, Viktor, and I am in love with you. I started packing my things but Father said I probably shouldn’t move in with you just yet. I nearly fought him on it, but I imagined what you might say and imaginary-Viktor echoed his sentiment. Taking things slow will be hard; as you know, I either avoid things outright or dive head-first into them, and only my travel schedule set the pace of our first reunion. What matters is that we figure all of this out together. I can wait a little longer for that. We have the rest of our lives to live out. Yours, Sparrow —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor fiddles with the Hexclaw at his desk, testing out minute movements when he hears the chime of the doorbell several floors below. He opens a window and peers down into the alley; a cheeky, soot-covered boy waves up at him with a toothsome smile. Viktor waves back with his mechanical arm, letting the narrow rays of filtered sunlight catch a glint. A pressurized system brings up the mail from the first floor to his apartment, and he rushes over to the bin to check. Your letter sits at the top of the pile, and he eagerly reads your hurried response. He smiles, a wide grin that threatens to stretch all the way across his face, but he can’t help it. For the first time since he first received his terminal prognosis, he feels real hope, free of desperation and anguish. He feels… liberated. The doorbell rings again and he pokes his head out of the window in mild concern. Had the mailbox forgotten something? But he sees something else entirely; a fish out of water in these parts of the city, and yet someone who has never cared about those kinds of socioeconomic divides. He dashes down several flights of stairs with a limber ease he’s never felt before even in the past few weeks of getting acquainted with his augmented body. Parts of him still act up every so often; he’s learned that some pains are psychosomatic whereas others are part of his unique inherited myalgia, but Viktor has lived a long life of pain management and finds these flare-ups bearable. Stopping short in front of his door, he clears his throat, dusts off his vest, and tries vainly to fix his always-unruly hair in the reflection of a small, darkened window. Then he opens the door only to be accosted in a warm hug that feels like strong Piltovan sunshine. He laughs as he thinks about that day all those years ago, when you'd surprised him on a very different doorstep just to waltz back into his life. Some habits didn't change, and he revels in the familiarity. He pulls back, gazing down at you fondly—though you can still see an undercurrent of worry flickering through his amber irises. You can’t say you aren’t anxious, yourself, but the joy of seeing Viktor again trumps all other emotions at present. “I’d only just opened your letter,” he wheezes as you squeeze him tightly around the ribs; even with the metal augments, you have a knack for leaving him breathless. “Patience truly isn’t your strong suit, hm?” “No, it isn't,” you smile shyly, reaching up to tuck an errant strand of hair up into the goggles he has pushed into his hair as a makeshift hairband. Viktor wants nothing more than to kiss you silly, but he surveys you for a few beats more before leaning down to press a chaste peck to your cheek. You look up at him, noting the slight flush in his face from his trip down the stairs and the vitality in his stature. At least it looks like he’s eating well, his cheeks filling in when months before they’d been hollowing out and wasting away. You bask in each other’s presence, charged with equal parts excitement and nervous trepidation. But above all, you bask in a shared optimism that despite the odds, and despite the challenges that would pave the road ahead, you would endure it all, together. “Well,” Viktor exhales, allowing his lips to curve into a smile. His eyes sparkle with the joy of a child on a Yuletide morning. “Would you like to see my laboratory?” He says the possessive word with pride, his posture perfecting itself as he flourishes under this marker. You laugh. “I’d love a tour of your new place,” you reply, and Viktor gives your cheek another excited kiss as he closes the door to Emberflit Alley behind you.