Tell me where the noise comes from.

This is an indie portrayal of Jinx from Arcane / League of Legends. 18+ only! 

UPDATE: Working through my replies!

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{⚙️}: Well, he couldn’t argue with that. If a ‘cool’ factor was what she was going for, then it seemed she was the expert. He would just let her do what she felt she needed to. Besides, it was best not to interfere with an experiment, after all. It could skew the data.

Viktor was no stranger to working with salvage, and what one could afford. He had made all of his earliest projects out of scrap, or recycled material from home, much to his parent’s chagrin. Even those machines he went on to create in his early adulthood, just before he had set off for Piltover, were made with whatever he could find, or scrounge up enough savings to buy. The only variable that mattered to Viktor was whether or not the materials would break with rigorous use, if the finished product was created to aid. The last thing he needed was one of his machines malfunctioning and taking the life of the laborers they were meant to help.

He wasn’t certain what he had been expecting, when he handed over his drawing, but… it was not this. Viktor blinked, gaze flicking up from the device he had received. He opened his mouth to speak, only for two arms to be wrapped around his form, causing him to tense, and his eyes to widen. He held the device out, and away, in an attempt to keep it from being crushed. Or detonated. Before he could even process what was happening, a kiss was delivered to his cheek, and the woman was off, dancing and carrying the paper to her workstation. For a moment, all that Viktor could do was just… sit, completely dumbstruck. What had just occurred?

“Eh… I, uh…” he had finally looked down at the bomb in his hands, turning it over gingerly, examining the outer casing. Crude, as the last one he had disassembled had been, but he was certain the inside was just as intriguing. Now, however, he was looking up at Jinx incredulously, eyes searching, expecting some form of joke, or perhaps a mockery. Perfect, she said? Hardly.

But he couldn’t deny that the sentiment felt… nice.

“I am, eh… glad that you like it?”

Hesitant to turn away, Viktor turned his attention back to her work, only to be prompted again. He was going to try and ignore it, judging by Jinx’s tendency to speak rather consistently, but he realized a moment later than was socially acceptable that she was holding out a hand towards him. He paused, looking from her hand, to her face, and back. Alright, then.

Viktor, after very carefully placing the bomb onto the couch beside him, grabbed his crutch and stood from his seat. He didn’t often accept offers of physical contact, but he wasn’t entirely certain how rejecting it would pan out. When walking on thin ice, it was best to tread carefully. He took the hand.

“Is it going to explode?” he asks, a light smirk appearing on his face, a hint of teasing in his tone. It seemed he just couldn’t resist a bit of good-natured prodding.

Jinx pulled Viktor up from the couch, such excitement lighting up her eyes. She was so ready for something fun to happen now that the bomb has been made. It was suited for the job even while flawed, mostly built out of scrap and whatever else she could find. Silco gave her money for things, but she’d grown used to digging spare parts out of the garbage and salvaging things others had deemed useless. She used the money for her explosive concoctions instead, wanting them more powerful than the material it had been build out of.

After all, the biggest BOOM tended to be the most satisfying! 

❝ You’re going to love this, ❞ she assured him, already leading him towards the edge of her workshop. The bottom couldn’t be seen, so far down that the darkness ate the end of it. Things could fall down far if she let them. Especially if she let them. It was a yawning chasm  of a place, as though it had been gouged out somewhere that was best left alone. This didn’t exactly seem like the safest place to be. It was precisely why she loved it here. 

Her eyes caught his own, a smirk of her own sliding over her expression. ❝ You’ll see. ❞ She didn’t seem to catch on that his question was more of a tease than something serious. Still, Jinx wanted to show him what this device could do. Who better to analyze the explosion than some scientist guy from Piltover anyway?

She snatched up the bomb and took it with her, Viktor’s hand in hers. Jinx wouldn’t let go, not unless he did first. She looked over at him and bit her lip in excitement. ❝ Are you ready for this? Watch carefully and tell me if it’s good. ❞ It seemed as though she really wanted his opinion in the matter, making sure his eyes were on the bomb before dropping it down below.

- Insomnia. She gets three hours of sleep a night if she’s lucky, but generally tends to stay up for days on end with minimal naps in between. Jinx doesn’t remember the last time she received restful sleep. Nightmares often rouse her from her naps. She’s so used to it that she doesn’t even cry out anymore. Most of the time, people can’t tell that a nightmare woke her up.

- Makeup. The only reason Jinx has makeup knowledge is that she learned in order to cover the heavy fatigue on her face. She generally uses some sort of concealer alongside the heavy eyeliner she tends to apply. It keeps her from looking like an actual zombie. This makeup is very minimal.

- Migraines. She gets migraines sometimes, especially when under a lot of stress. Jinx will also experience migraines upon attempting to piece together traumatic memories.

- Dissociative Amnesia. Jinx experiences a lot of memory gaps. She doesn’t remember the exact details of That Night and it’s bled into other aspects of her life. Her brain represses memories, sometimes even important ones that are ‘harmless’ (the name of a place, someone else’s memories, people’s names (like calling Thieram Chuck and being convinced it’s his name)).

- Journals. As a result of the amnesia and memory loss, Jinx keeps several journals for her personal use. In it, she writes important names, memories, and events that have occurred. Since she can’t take all these journals with her, she often forgets the information written down in them. It’s easier to cement things once she writes them down, but they still have a tendency to slip her mind. People she loves will have their own journals and sometimes she will even make “cheat sheets” for an event/person that she can stuff into her pockets to read on the go.

- Nicknames. People she likes will all get one. Prepare to never have someone’s real name said by her again. This is an affectionate gesture from her. It’s also easier for her to remember nicknames rather than actual names.

- Tactile. She touches people a lot, especially those she’s comfortable around. They will get hugged, platonically kissed, and clung to.

- Favorite Person. This is a thing that some people with BPD experience. They will latch onto a person they consider their favorite and this person becomes the source of happiness and validation. For Jinx, her FP is Silco by a long shot.

- Anxiety. Jinx doesn’t understand people and is lowkey scared of them. She feels much safer being behind a gun when confronting someone. Her fear generally comes across as aggression/lashing out.

- Childish. Due to the traumatic events in her childhood, Jinx never quite got to experience childhood as a whole. She is NOT a child, but her trauma can make her act childish at times.

- Tattoos. The tattoos are smoke rather than clouds. They represent the way trauma has permanently marked her, as well as a desperate attempt to get Vi to come back to her. The smoke was tattooed on first, then the bullets were done. The bullets more so represent her desire to break away from the trauma and be a different person: Jinx.

Jinx huffed as she climbed down into the cargo hold. Apparently, there was a thief going around stealing Shimmer. Of course those people would stoop so low. They were addicted, like buzzing bees to honey. She couldn’t understand them, nor did she have any desire to. Silco had told her to guard the Shimmer until further notice so there she was, gun in hand. It was a boring job, but maybe a little thief might make it more interesting.

She daydreamed what it would be like if she caught them. Silco’s praise would be hers, and then maybe she could deal with something a little more entertaining than this. The weapon was fiddled around with a bit, rotating it in her hand just for something to do. Guarding this stuff was always the worst. Shimmer couldn’t talk. If it could, well... That would have been interesting at least.

Vi’s brows rose and they bite back the instant response they want to make, struggle desperately to snatch the words before they can transmit to Powder Jinx. You’re the one who never wanted to listen to me first. I wouldn’t have been in any of that mess if it weren’t for you. It’s cruel, unfair to think it. But seven years… seven years surrounded by every negative emotion sentient people can have makes it hard for a good heart to stay completely good. But Vi absolutely can’t blow it. They can’t. It had taken so much out of them to get to this point. Vi was perhaps far too stubborn for her own good. Sometimes it helped. Others… was she making all this worse?

If the guards at Stillwater hadn’t been able to control the pink-haired brawler, what made their sister think she could?

“Because I’m a stubborn ass.” Runs in the family, along with so many other things, apparently. She keeps those thoughts hidden.

Gray eyes watch as their sibling looks at nothing. And yet, Vi’s experiences when she was far younger, far weaker… The clues begin to shuffle themselves in order, starting to fall into place so they know exactly what they are trying to fight against: their sister’s shattered mind. 

They remember the explosive temper, the shouting matches with Vander. No, Vi had not been perfectly all right as a young teenager. They can see echoes of that in Powder Jinx. Had worked so hard to make sure their sister would never see the other side. And yet… she had. On that night seven years previous. Their jaw clenches, drawing themselves up to full height. 

Vi let their hand drop as well as a couple of tears. How did Vander handle this? How would he handle this? Far better than Vi, that was certain. 

<I’m sorry,> the words were gentle, surrounded in loving emotion, in penance. <I’m sorry, Jinx. I had Powder once. Not anymore. Alright,> they hope they don’t sound like they’re simply humoring the other. Vi is trying so hard to adjust, hoping to stumble upon anything that could get through to their sister. They refused to believe there was no chance of being siblings again.

<I told you I’d> “Keep the monsters away” <and I fulfilled that promise. Just like I promised to find you> “Because of the flare.” <Because I’m real.> 

A long pause.

“Remember what I taught you? Don’t tuck your thumb in your fist? I know you remember. Hit me. Punch me. You deserve your revenge, right?”

All those nights of screaming matches, of wading through a normal that didn’t actually feel normal. It had been their normal, a rough and rather brutal way to live. That had just been how it was in Zaun. The yelling, hitting, screaming... The way apologies had covered each other’s episodes. Jinx couldn’t forget those bad times. She’d let them run through her head over and over again, like a movie, hoping the hatred would cover her sorrow. She’d never really grieved for Vi, instead locking their memory away in a box that just kept on leaking. The past never felt like staying dead, especially not in her own mind.

She was broken. Jinx knew that as she looked back towards the ghosts, as the thoughts in her head continued mixing into a confusing crescendo of both past and present. Embracing herself had taken a lot of work. Forgiving and forgetting were two entirely different demons to deal with.

Yet even after all that time, after all that hatred, there was still a part of Jinx that loved her sister. A part that wanted her hug and her forgiveness. This was just another one of their long fights. As soon as she broke, as soon as she started crying, Vi would pick her up and apologize and everything could be okay.

That had been a Powder tactic, a movement of vulnerability that she had been able to make back then. Not so now, as she stood there, holding her head while listening to Vi’s words. Chalking them up to a trick, a sense of distrust that left her being shaking with the effort. No battle was bigger than the one in her head.

And her head? Well. It screamed abandonment, loathing, insanity. It didn’t allow her to trust her instinct, the lack of static, the way Vi moved and spoke. Their mouth was open one moment, closed the next, as those words forced their way into her mind.

❝ You... called me by my name. ❞ Dull words of realization, so wearisome until she realized. Jinx stared at her, wondering. Was this a trick? A trick trick trick, like her mind was telling her?

< I don’t know what to do. > A helpless thought left her mind, not as neatly restrained as she had learned to do when she was smaller. She’d taken refuge in her mind when Vi had stopped being a part of it, so there it was, a thought that wasn’t supposed to be for her sibling in the first place. < You’ve always told me the right thing to do... Help me Vi helpme. > It was a rush of thought, not meant to be directed towards them in the first place.

She curled in on herself. < You didn’t keep them away. > Those words were more deliberate, slower than the rush had been. Jinx glared, hands clenching. < You didn’t keep them away! >

The sensation of the firm material beneath her fist was nowhere to be found. This wasn’t a practice dummy. Instead, it was skin, the sensation of a cheek against her knuckles. Jinx didn’t tend to hit with her hands. She liked the distance of the gun, the solace amid chaos that it provided her, but this time... This time she was willing to let her knuckles bruise against Vi’s face, connecting in a violent touch.

Not that it would solve anything, for in the end all those years of suffering continued to writhe within her.