evil is a point of view

here's a preview:

Nova turned her head, studying her sister in the dim light. The color of Jinx’s eyes — that electric, unnatural pink — still sat wrong in her mind, still felt like a wound. Singed had done that. Had rewired her, body and brain, poured Shimmer into her veins until she should’ve burned alive but didn’t. If surviving could be called this.

“Is it quieter now?” Nova asked softly. “In your head, I mean.”

Jinx went still. The kind of stillness that meant the truth was wrestling something sharp. “Nah. Not really.” A beat. “If anything, it’s louder. But… clearer, I guess.” Her gaze slid sideways. “I’m faster, though. Like — superfast.”

Nova raised an eyebrow. “Superfast is a bold claim. Think you could outpace me? Close combat, no weapons?” A grin sliced across Jinx’s face — sharp, feral, almost bright. “Pretty sure I could.”

Nova gave a faint huff, the ghost of amusement. “We’ll test that once I’m not held together by spite and questionable medicine. Until then — older sister authority.”

Jinx snorted, and for a moment something lighter cracked open between them. A memory of what they once were, uncorrupted. Then the quiet came back, heavier than before, tangled with everything they weren’t saying.

“What the hell are we gonna do?” Nova whispered finally. Saying it louder felt like inviting the world to listen.

Jinx was quiet for a moment. “Dunno,” she muttered. “You’re the planner.”

“Not this time,” Nova said, voice distant. “It’s too tangled. What if he actually starts a war?”

“He won’t. Not yet.”

Nova turned to her. “How can you be so sure?”

Jinx’s mouth curved into a crooked half-smile.

“Easy,” she said, reaching beneath her pillow. She pulled out the hextech gemstone— a sphere of living light that painted her face in cold blue. “Can’t start a war without me.”

here's a preview:

“The council knows everything,” she whispered. “About me. The smuggling. The drugs.” She couldn’t look at him. “I’m guessing the Undercity does too.”

He didn’t deny it. A laugh slipped out of her, small and cracked.

“Then I’m finished.”

“Do not say that,” he snapped, not out of anger but out of panic wearing anger’s clothes. “You are not finished.”

“Look at me,” she said, lifting her sleeves just enough for him to see the rawness beneath. “My body’s giving out. My reputation’s dead. And all I can think about is how badly I want a fix.”

Her throat tightened.

“That’s where I'm at now.”

Silco’s expression fractured—an imperceptible break, but she saw it. She steadied herself. Then: “Take the deal,” she whispered. “It’s the best chance you’ll ever get. For Zaun. For everyone.”

Silco stared at her like she’d spoken a blasphemy.

“No.” His voice held iron. “Absolutely not.”

“You have to,” she insisted. “We do what’s necessary, not what’s right. You taught me that.”

tw: blood, self-harm

these last few days have been wild.

here's a preview:

And Piltover—Piltover was nothing but sunlight. The room they put her in was drowning in it, bright panes spilling gold across a table that looked too polished to be touched. Friendly, in that hollow, topside way. If not for the cuffs biting her wrists and the guards flanking her like statues, it might’ve looked almost domestic: a girl, a meal, quiet civility.

But she wasn’t fooled. Nova eyed the plate, wary, like it might bite first.

“You know,” she drawled at last, voice loose on the surface but tight underneath, sweat slicking her brow, every nerve wound like wire, “if this is supposed to be mercy—one last taste of your fancy food before I have an accident out in a cell—I’d rather have a hit of shimmer. Just sayin’.”

At the window, Caitlyn stiffened. She turned slowly, brows knitting, the unease plain in her face. “What? No—this isn’t… this isn’t that.”

Nova let out a sharp breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. For a second, she’d half-believed it. That this was it.

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion coiling back up like a blade unsheathed.

“Then what the fuck is it?”

read the rest here:

more of my art on:

more of my artwork on:

(bit late bc life's been a dumpster fire lately bUT HEY INSPIRATION RIGHT)

here's a little preview:

“Why come to me with this? You knew I’d try to talk you out of it. For all I know, you fucking hate me. So why?”

For the first time, Vi faltered. Her jaw clenched. Fire ready to ignite, but the response didn’t come. Silence hung heavy, broken by the distant drip of water and a low buzz from a failing lamp.

“Because you know her,” Vi said at last, a crack in her tone. “You… stayed close when I couldn’t. Doesn’t mean I trust you. But… you saw what I didn’t.”

Nova’s fingers tightened around the bars, knuckles whitening, the metal biting her skin. She couldn’t meet Vi’s eyes—couldn’t risk the heat, the urge to exploit it. Still, her mind ticked, calculating.

Nova didn’t answer at first. Just looked at her, sharp-eyed, face an unbroken mask. Then she let out a slow shrug.

“Yeah, I get that.” She raked a hand through her hair, paused, weighing the words. “Well, here’s my advice. Stop messing with my father. First and foremost. Because if you keep charging down that road, you’ll burn yourself alive—and drag Jinx with you. Like it or not, he matters to her too.”

A bitter snort snapped out of Vi, the old anger quick to flare again. “No way” she spat. “Not after everything—he turned the whole Undercity upside down. And he tried to kill Vander!”

“Yeah, because your oh-so-glorious Vander tried to drown him in a river,” Nova shot back, voice sharp as broken glass. “Or are we ignoring that part?”

“That was different,” Vi bit out, defending him before she’d even registered the breath to do it. “He changed.”

Nova barked a laugh—dry, cruel, devoid of any real amusement.

“Oh, so maybe he was judged too fast? That’s rich, Vi. Really rich. Especially coming from you—considering how quick you are to decide what Jinx is or isn’t.”

Vi’s eyes went wide. Her mouth opened to spit something back, but all that came out was a strangled sound, half fury, half frustration.

read the rest here: