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Made some drawings to go with this post

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@hexedevolution [ cont. ]
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⚙︎ . *. ⋆ IT'S KIND OF A RANDOM QUESTION, not something jayce is necessarily used to asking, but something that had been on his mind lately either way. he wouldn't say he was afraid, and he's generally a very grounded person, not letting superstitions get in the way of working towards his desired goal of progress through hextech, but whenever he was in here by himself with the hexcore ... it kind of felt like he was being WATCHED. sometimes he'd get a prickling sensation on the back of his neck when he was alone in the lab, whenever he'd study or modify the runes. maybe it was just because he'd already lost hours of sleep by the time he'd notice. or maybe it was just the hexcore.
❝ yeah, you're right. they definitely don't exist. ❞ lips curl up in a SMIRK and he breathes out a quiet chuckle, doing what he can to distract himself from his thoughts. ❝ imagine if they did, though. how much trouble would they cause piltover? ❞ ... yeah, maybe he'd fear ghosts just a little if they did exist.
closed starter | @hexedevolution
The lab is suffocatingly quiet, save for the uneven rhythm of Jinx’s breaths as she bursts inside, her bootsteps loud and desperate on the concrete floor. Every corner of the space feels sharper than it should, the low hum of machinery digging into her ears, the flicker of half-broken lightbulbs stinging her tear-swollen eyes. The room reeks of chemicals and metal, a scent she’d normally find comforting, like Viktor’s presence itself—but now it feels cold, sterile. Lifeless.
❛ Vik? ❜ Her voice wavers, cracking under the weight of her emotions. She hates how weak it sounds, like a child begging for a nightmare to end. But she’s too far gone to care. She needs him. Now. ❛ Please be here. ❜ The plea escapes her lips as a ragged whisper, more for herself than for anyone else. Her gaze darts around the room—his desk, the array of half-finished inventions and tools scattered across it. He isn’t there. Where is he?
The voices in her head press in closer, sharper, louder. Mylo’s sneering tone snakes its way into her skull, dripping venom. “Maybe he already knows you fucked up. Maybe he’s finally sick of you, too. Just like—”
❛ SHUT UP! ❜ she snaps at the empty air, clutching her pistol so tightly it digs into her palm. Her knees feel like they might give out. ❛ He’s not like her! He’s not like . . . ❜ Her throat tightens. She won’t say the name. She can’t.
A sound, faint, like a rasping breath comes from behind his desk. Her heart seizes, and she rushes forward, vaulting over stray cables and equipment. ❛ Viktor? ❜ she calls again, though her voice has gone hoarse from shouting all evening. She rounds the corner and freezes.
Her stomach plummets.
He’s crumpled on the floor, the awkward angles of his thin frame making him look impossibly fragile. His skin is pale, his lips tinged with an unnatural blue, and the faint rise and fall of his chest is erratic—too slow, too shallow. His mask is missing, lying a few feet out of reach. Her chest tightens as she notices his hands, limp against the floor, like he didn’t even have the strength to try and grab it. She had a feeling, a feeling she’d been trying to ignore, there has been something wrong with him. She really didn’t want to be right.
She drops to her knees beside him, her movements frantic and uncoordinated, her mind spiraling too fast to control. Her fingers tremble as she slips an arm beneath his head, lifting it into her lap. ❛ What’s happening? What do I do? Just—just tell me what to do! ❜ Her voice cracks as her hands fumble for his mask, snatching it from the floor and pulling it over his face with a clumsy desperation.
She doesn’t even know if it’s working—doesn’t know if he’s working. His eyes are half-closed, distant, and she feels like she’s holding onto the edges of something that’s slipping through her fingers. Tears well up in her eyes again, blurring her vision, but she doesn’t dare blink them away. She doesn’t want to look away from him, not even for a second. What if he slips away when she’s not watching? What if he leaves her like everyone else?
“You know he will,” Mylo’s voice hisses in her head, cruel and taunting. “He’s just like all the others. Vi. Vander. Even Silco’s gonna get tired of you eventually. Who wouldn’t? You’re a disaster. A total screw-up.”
❛ NO! ❜ she screams up at the ceiling, her voice shrill and cracked, as she shakes her head violently. ❛ You don’t know what you’re talking about! He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t leave me! ❜ Her voice falters, trembling as she looks back down at Viktor, her thumb brushing against the edge of his cheek. His skin is cold beneath her touch, and the realization sends another wave of fear crashing over her. ❛ You wouldn’t leave me, ❜ she whispers again, as if saying it enough will make it true.
But the voices won’t stop. They never stop. Mylo again, that smug, cruel tone echoing in her mind. “Face it, you’re poison. You drag everyone down with you. That’s why she left. That’s why he’ll leave, too.”
She screws her eyes shut, her breath coming in quick, uneven bursts as she presses her forehead against his. ❛ No, no, no, ❜ she murmurs, like a mantra. Her free hand tightens around the pistol she’s still holding, her knuckles white, until she finally drops it with a clatter to the floor. ❛ Please . . . tell me what to do. Please, just tell me how to fix this. ❜
@hexedevolution
Sometimes, not knowing is better than knowing. She's not exactly incredibly worthy of hiring for most things. Street toughs aren't exactly thin on the ground in Zaun, but there are other ways to be considered valuable than just muscle power. One of them is an eye for good salvage... another is the willingness to go where the good salvage is.
When she'd first met Viktor it hadn't seemed like he would have much use for either of her applications. She'd originally been there following up on a lead about where Shimmer might have been coming from, but her attempt to track the man down hadn't gone anywhere meaningful until she'd practically fallen into his machinations. Time, though, had created something of an alliance of convenience.
Now, she makes her way through underground tunnels with yet another backpack full of stuff. It'd been gathered over the course of the last week from places she'd rather not speak on, more for deniability than anything. She hesitates at the sturdy door, then raises a fist to knock. She should really do something about how much her clothes pick up grime down here...
@hexedevolution 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓻.
After the latest attack in the city, Caitlyn's obsession with her investigation she spent hours, days, months of research on, it only grew further in her mind. It was a constant thought, a frustrating fixation in the back of her mind that kept nudging her day and night. It hammered and hammered her head, until the truth was all she could think about.
Everything she had found so far always revolved around one aspect of the investigation: those odd symbols. Childish and colourful at a first glance, however eerie and a mock to all the death that they had left behind.
If she found the person behind those, she would find the main culprit behind all of the undercity dodgy affairs and the reason behind Progress Day's attack.
And she indeed could catch that criminal, safety could be brought back to both cities. She had to follow her guts and finally give a sense to the dots she had been trying to connect for so long.
"Viktor?" there was a polite knock on the door before she made her way into Jayce and his partner's lab. A small plaster on her brow was the last sign of the injuries she had sustained during the explosion.
"I hope I'm not intruding." the heels of her boots echoes against the cold floor, her eyes finding it easy to spot the young man where she knew she'd likely find him.
"I was wondering if you can assist me with something."

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@hexedevolution sent: 💡
headcanon generator prompts (always accepting)
I got this headcanon more than 3 times now LMAO
Anyways, the only two verses where Claggor is sort of like a villain, bad guy, are him being by Jinx's side and working for Silco and then the other verse is where he's Singed's apprentice.
And yeah, it definitely wouldn't take much for Claggor to turn evil if he is pushed over his limits or it got to a point where Claggor couldn't handle being chased, having to fight to get food or parts, and so forth. There are a lot of ways for Claggor to go down a path of evil but yet Claggor still fights against going down that path.
Sky and Old Machine Herald Art
Deliberately messy charcoal on parchment style. Inspired by this
Getting off on the Right Arm || closed
Sevika was wary as she walked towards the hidden lab. Her left shoulder was still all bandaged up but she had been deemed healed enough to start the process of getting a prosthetic. She'd expected to have to make due with one of the shoddy ones common in the Lanes but working for Silco had a few perks. In this case it meant getting a custom arm made that would hopefully be as much a weapon as a functional limb.
That didn't mean Sevika was thrilled to be working with the crazy doctor who had cooked up Shimmer even if the stuff was incredibly useful. She just didn't want to be completely addicted to it or end up like mass of muscles like that kid Silco talked into trying the doctor's new formula.
As for the kid that worked with Singed, she liked the kid better. He at least wasn't insane although he certainly had a few screws loose. She knew enough about machines to respect his skill however and planned to learn more so that she'd be able to do at least the basic maintenance on her new arm herself.
Given all of that it was no surprise that she didn't look entirely happy when she walked into the lab to see the two scientist. Fortunately she was directed tot he kid, Viktor, first to work on the arm itself while Singed worked on a new Shimmer formula for her. He'd apparently already received some instructions from Silco. Good.
"Alright kid. Where do we start?" She asked as she sat down so Viktor could examine her shoulder if needed.
@hexedevolution