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its-cartooncrazy · 1 month ago

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[Image description: a list of all tarot cards in the major arcana, along with their meanings. They have been matched to a vessel from slay the princess, using the drawings from the memories page. Full text ID under the cut.]

Hello I spent like a week being abnormal about this (no I did not know the tarot cards by heart before this, yes I do now) so here is my definitive list of which princess matches which tarot card. If you disagree with me then you're wrong (joking, please feel free to tell me with your reasoning, I'd love to hear it!!)

Full list of my reasonings under the cut (scroll to the big text saying "Reasonings" to skip the ID)

[Full ID: three columns, listing first the tarot number and name, then card meanings, then the princess. They are as follows:

0. The Fool. cycle of life, birth & death, hope, optimism, childish, spontaneous, lateral thinking. The Damsel

1. The Magician. practical, success, witty, at home, central nervous system & lungs & senses, unemotional, over analyses. The Moment of Clarity

2. The High Priestess. heightened perception, unknown, mystery, occult, patience, intuition, strong independent woman, unable to control or dominate. The Wraith

3. The Empress. powerful women, creativity, growth, beauty, birth, fertility, warm, loving, sensual, enjoys life to the full. The Adversary

4. The Emperor. structure & power, competitive, achievement, authority, hierarchy, dominance. The Tower

5. The Hierophant. status quo, appearances, marriage, teaching, interpreting, structure, routine. Happily Ever After

6. The Lovers. love, romance, union, soulmates, resolved inner conflict, choice. The Wild

7. The Chariot. reward, victory hard won, don’t give up, try again, vehicles, overcoming obstacles, self discipline, hard work, focus. The Beast

8. Justice. logical decision, balanced mind, negotiation, truth, honesty, integrity. The Spectre

9. The Hermit. Solitude, thinking, introspection, learning, teaching. The Prisoner

10. The Wheel of Fortune. Fate, coincidence, luck, cycles, confusion. The Stranger

11. Strength. generous, loving, courage, conviction, optimism, resolve, generous, antagonism resolved, animals (loving). The Den

12. The Hanged Man. unable to move, temporary pause, patience, self limiting, trapped, sacrifice, wait for info. The Cage

13. Death. cycle of death & rebirth, transformation, something is ending, confronting smth alarming, major change. The Eye of the Needle

14. Temperance. balanced, adaptable, see both sides, calm, solve disputes, works well in a team, mixing opposites, blending, time. The Princess and the Dragon

15. The Devil. material world, buying love, material security, mental health, powerlessness, violence, obsession, secrecy. The Witch

16. The Tower. disruptive, violent, necessary change, enlightenment, trauma, loss, upheaval, tragedy. The Fury

17. The Star. hope, new life, fresh insight, phys or ment wounds heal, heal & inspire others, help, human rights, nature, equality. The Thorn

18. The Moon. dreams, imagination, subconscious, illusion, vagueness, deception, fear, anxiety. The Nightmare

19. The Sun. happiness & vitality, energy, confidence, children, freedom, fun, self expression. The Razor

20. Judgement. decisions, awakening, rebirth, healing, homesickness, celebrate success, self evaluation, blame. The Grey

21. The World. end of a cycle, accomplishment, journey, belonging, wholeness. The Apotheosis

End ID]

Reasonings

The Fool I put the damsel down for pretty early, just because of the childish optimism, but later I was thinking about the damsel route and why it wouldn't fit the Lovers and I said the damsel is more about how they are rushing into it. And then I remembered the Fool is about rushing in lol. I couldn't really consider anything else after that

The Magician mentions the central nervous system and lungs, so I considered putting the nightmare here for paranoids mantra, but the card didn't really fit her that well and the central nervous system is different to the autonomous nervous system anyway so. The Moment of Clarity gets this spot for her practical breaking of you, and the success it brings her. Not one of my easiest placements but I'm still pretty happy with it

The high Priestess was hard to place because she's about the occult, and powerful women who don't need a man. If only there was a princess who fit that mold... (/s if it wasn't clear) so yeah. Half the princesses were written down here at one point. The Wraith gets this spot because I found other places for all the others I guess and also because "She could not find her strength in others, so she found it in herself."

The empress is again a powerful woman, but a loving and nurturing one, who encourages growth. It was both the growth and the partnership she has that gave her the adversary

The Emperor is about hierarchy and dominance. I knew very early on that the tower would fit best here. "This one is dominance."

The hierophant is about structure, appearances, and also marriage. Happily Ever After is all about being trapped within this structure, with ties specifically to marriage. Literally tell me I'm wrong?

The Lovers. Okay. So there's a few this could be. The Damsel, with the voice of the smitten? Not really as equal a partnership, as I mentioned in the Fool section. They don't really know each other. The Thorn, where you can kiss her? Well that ignores like. The entire rest of the route so no. Happily ever after? Maybe, but I prefer her in hierophant. The adversary, with your equal partnership in kicking each others asses? Easily, but I also put her elsewhere. Ironically, the Lovers was one of the last two cards I placed, and the only princesses left were the wild and the grey, and unfortunately I couldn't agree with the drowned grey going here. The wild has you literally being one, achieving a common goal. It's not my favourite placement but I dont hate it so.

The chariot is about putting in the hard work and seeing it through, and she does make an effort to capture you (swallow you whole) and bring you to the door so she can escape. Also it's about vehicles, and she literally acts as a vehicle for you. That idea was too funny to not do tbh

Justice is one of three cards that mention balance, so I wanted one of the ones where you merge to go here. Much like the scales of justice, it is about considering all sides and picking fairly, so it had to go to the spectre, who gets justice for her murder when you help her out. The spectre was written down for like half the cards on this list though my god

The hermit is about solitude and self introspection. The prisoner, sitting in silence for millenia, felt very fitting. I also wanted the cage to be here, because the image of the hermit is him holding up a lantern, and having the cage holding her head like that would be fun, but she fit better in the hanged man so.

The wheel of fortune was one of my later picks. Fate, and also cycles. Its a little vague, and can fit with quite a few princesses, but I put the stranger here. Is it the vibes? Something about coincidences and not meeting her feels similar, but I cant put my finger on it so if you can explain please do.

Strength, but of the inner sort. The Den didn't really have anywhere better to go, I don't know if instinct matches with any of the cards. I felt confidence in ones self was pretty similar to instinct, plus it has ties to animals.

The hanged man is self restrictions. I would have liked to put the thorn here, honestly, hanging from her vines. Ultimately it was the best choice for the cage, though, and I had another good option for the thorn. Anyway, the cage can be hanging from all those chains and hooks. "This one is a body that convinced herself she was only a set of eyes." Sounds like her limits are self imposed for sure!

Death and the tower have similar meanings in that things are coming to an end, and both of them I felt were good fits for both eye of the needle and the Fury. Ultimately I put eotn here because its more cyclical, and when she was the adversary she wanted to continue fighting over and over again.

Temperance is the second balance card, specifically about blending this time. Opposites merging, solving disputes. Felt very much like the princess and the dragon chapter. "This one is perspectives bleeding into one."

The Devil is a person tricking you, but also material security. I only ever put the witch down for this one, and I only ever put her down for one card lol. The mutual trickery and betrayal in her chapter felt too fitting. "A trick behind your back, and a trick behind mine."

The tower, like I said, is similar to death in that they are both about things ending. But the tower is more dramatic, about the sudden upheaval, so I thought thematically it matched with the Fury better, who is very upset and very taking it out on you. This is one of the cards I knew the meaning of from the beginning, so unfortunately there was never a point in which the tower was matched with the tower :(

The star is hope and healing. One of many that the spectre could have matched with. (I wanted to make her star shaped wound be the star... oh well). The Thorn fits well here, if you both choose to end the cycle of violence and leave together. The star also has ties to nature, which fits with the thorns... thorns... I would have preferred her at the hanged man for her self limiting, being trapped in her own thorns, but this is also a very good choice so I'm not too mad lol

The moon is fear and anxiety. Plus the moon only comes out at night, when everyone is sleeping, when you have nightmares! But mostly it's the vagueness, mystery and anxiety stuff.

The sun being joy meant I knew I wanted the razor here from the beginning. I briefly considered putting her at death (for the cycles, and also the uh, death) but I think the dying part of her route is not actually that important? Anyway the razor is my wife and I'm glad she's enjoying herself. "She is cruelty. But she is also joy." See, shifty gets it!

Judgement is where you look back on everything and judge yourself. It was one of the last two cards to be assigned, and the wild did not fit here at all. Plus the grey sort of punishes you for your actions? It's unavoidable, is my point.

The world is accomplishment, wholeness. She is as close to becoming the goddess she truly is as any vessel ever comes. "This one sits at the cusp of awakening." Shifty says. Also Apotheosis literally means climax so I had to put her at the end of the tarot, you understand.

So yeah that's that. Thanks for reading, if you managed to get through all that. Feel free to debate different interpretations at me, I'd love to hear em!

#slay the princess #straight up dont know what to tag this as #tarot #i guess i mean i did literally interpet all the cards #i am not going to tag all the princesses

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burntheedges · 4 months ago

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Pas de Deux Masterlist

Din Djarin x f!reader | 18+ | ~40k words | complete 1/15 main masterlist | ao3

summary: When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

full fic tags/warnings (spoilers!): modern AU, ballet AU, fluff, angst, flirting, dancing, lots of ballet terms (I’ll define things/link videos/etc. -- see below), misunderstandings, character study, romance, pet names (sweetheart, beautiful), lots of tension, later: smut, kissing, grinding, fingering, p-in-v sex, creampie, each chapter will have its own tags, Din lifts reader (see note below about reader)

a/n: welcome to the Din ballet fic!! I started writing this in April and it’s finally finished! I’ll post a new chapter every Wednesday, there are 14 total. There’s some smut coming but it’ll be a while, folks. See my notes below about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!! This fic is so much better because of you. 🧡 And thank you to @almostfoxglove for reading over it and confirming I didn't forget all my ballet, lol. 🩰

note about reader: in this fic you’re a ballet dancer, first soloist at Nevarro Ballet Theater company. I haven’t mentioned the reader’s body size or shape (or hair) basically at all, even to the point of avoiding clothing (except for costumes), but I understand the image that goes along with ballet – I danced for almost 20 years. Din does lift you many times. Please feel free to picture whatever you want, but I know that this might seem more limited. You also have a best friend named Adrian who is in the company with you. I never specified age, but to make first soloist most would be in at least their early 20s. Din is 27.

Chapter list and notes about ballet under the cut! Comment or reblog to join the tag list. 🥰🩰

Chapter List

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

** Bonus: Amazing art of Din by @kenobiwanx!! **

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

...

some notes about ballet: I will share links to videos and such as much as possible, but here are some definitions to get us started – principal, (first) soloist, corps de ballet, variation, and class vs. rehearsal:

Principal - this is the highest level a dancer (of any gender) can reach in a company. Dancers are ‘promoted’ through the ranks. Principals usually have exceptional technique and artistry and can perform solos, pas de deux (partnering), headlining and/or the most challenging roles, etc. (e.g., the white (Odette) and black (Odile) swans in Swan Lake, both usually performed by one principal). Sometimes dancers are hired directly in as principals (like Din, in this fic). Smaller companies might have 5-6 principals, while larger ones could have as many as 20. Nevarro is somewhere between medium and large and has around 14 principals, including Din.

First Soloist - not every company has this rank, but it’s in between principal and soloist. Nevarro has 4 but they are counted among the soloists (12-14ish total). Soloists are often understudies for larger parts, and first soloists would do the same. In this fic reader is a first soloist, just promoted at the start of the season.

Soloist - this is sort of a middle level, for dancers who are doing very well and have proven themselves capable of taking on bigger roles. Many ballets have multiple roles, including supporting roles in the narrative, for soloists and principals to showcase many dancers’ talents. A smaller company might have 5-6 soloists, and a larger company might have as many as 20. (Larger companies also do more shows.) Nevarro is somewhere between medium and large and has around 12-14 soloists, including first soloists.

Corps de ballet - this is the lowest/starting level in a company. It’s where most would start from and has the largest number of dancers – these are the dancers who come out on stage in large groups or form the background unnamed roles in narrative scenes (like a party). Reader started in the corps and was promoted to soloist and then first soloist.

Variation - a solo dance, usually a piece from a larger ballet (e.g., the Sugar Plum Fairy in the Nutcracker). We say ‘variation’ because there are many ballets that have been choreographed differently by multiple people in the ballet world (e.g., there are famous versions of the Nutcracker by Petipa, Gorsky, Balanchine, Nureyev, Baryshnikov… and more). So there can be multiple variations of a solo from a single ballet, and more can be created or altered, etc. But in general the term just means solo.

Class vs. rehearsal - most companies distinguish between ‘class’ and ‘rehearsal’. Class is for the whole company and focused on improving technique. It’s quick and often repetitive and everyone sort of knows what to do. Most people would have ��their’ spot at the barre and fall into a typical order for going across the floor. After class, most would go into multiple hours of rehearsal, PT, strength training, etc., depending on whether it was a performance day or not. Most companies are rehearsing for more than one performance at a time, so they might have a longer rehearsal for the show coming up this or next weekend, and a shorter one for another performance a bit farther away. But in the days leading up to a show, that show’s rehearsals would probably take over. This can vary by company. On show days, most would have fewer rehearsals with a 1-2 hour break before the call time to get ready.

Season - companies have 'seasons' which just refers to their plan for shows/schedule for the upcoming year. They might refer to like a fall season and a spring season, or the might have a full year schedule with different parts (fall/winter/spring), or they might have only a spring season that runs into early summer. It depends on the company and the size! In this fic Nevarro has a fall season and a spring season, but they tend to think about it as a full year for contracts/etc. They would have 3-4 big shows planned (think Nutcracker, Swan Lake, Giselle, Onegin, etc.) in each part of the season (so, 3-4 in fall and 3-4 in spring). And then they'd fill in the gaps in the schedule with "mixed programs", which are programs with multiple smaller ballets or pieces that feature a lot of dancers. So a mixed program might have a 20 minute Balanchine ballet, a pas de deux, a full corps piece from a larger ballet, and a piece for like 8 dancers. or something. Mixed programs are often when choreographers-in-residence and on staff get to debut their own work.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the mandalorian #nbt fic #pas de deux fic #here we go folks #x reader

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lestbian · 1 year ago

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mutual 1: beautiful scenic photo of a forest

mutual 2: heartwrenching fanart for media youve never heard of

mutual 3: glup shitto and gregory berrycone would've had crazy gay sex if the creators werent cowards

mutual 4: reblogged 23 different blurry photos from a blog that hasnt updated in 5 years

mutual 5: popular textpost

mutual 6: popular textpost

mutual 7: self reblog of the most beautiful art youve ever seen. it has 10 likes and 4 reblogs, 2 of which are op

mutual 8: (poll) should i buy a coffee or kill myself (results: 50/50)

mutual 9: reblogging one of their own popular posts to announce reblogs are turned off (started getting death threats)

mutual 10: (screenshot of tournament poll standings) I CANT BELIEVE YOU GUYS THINK BLEEBUS IS MORE TRAGIC THAN FUCKING SCRIMBLO. WAS BLEEBUS BRAINWASHED TO KILL HIS ENTIRE FAMILY? DID HE GET ABANDONED AND BETRAYED BY BOTH HIS MENTORS? KILL YOURSELVES #SCRIMBLOSWEEP

mutual 11: umm guys you know the op of (popular textpost) is pro ship and anti furry right?

mutual 12: popular textpost

mutual 13: horror movie gifset tagged with the most nsfw string of words possible

mutual 14: the killer is in my house

mutual 15: popular textpost

mutual 16: ten paragraph in depth analysis of the relationship between characters from a kids cartoon show (six more paragraphs under the cut)

mutual 14: guys im gonna try mixing my double shot espresso with red bull lol

mutual 17: FUCK I HAVE AN EXAM TODAY

mutual 18: 41 images of capybaras

#kaya.txt #a lot of these are me tbh

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doyouremem8erme · 1 year ago

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mutual 1: save me doomed yuri. save me

mutual 2: i think id be happier if my boobs were replaced with small and friendly sharks

mutual 3: who wants to get trapped in a narrative with me. it does have to be weird

mutual 4: (13 consecutive reblogs of fanart of a podcast ive never listened to)

mutual 5: hey check out this insane piano composition youll be zonked out of your gourd

mutual 6: (insanely detailed and vibrant art) drew this in the bathtub lol

mutual 7: what if wolverines invented religion. they could make vehicles out of abandoned shopping carts

mutual 8: i love my blorbos what do you mean theyre my ocs. from my brain

mutual 9: theres something so beautiful aboutmaking fun animal noises. BARKBARKBARK AWOOOOO

mutual 10: (screenshots of a straight couple) theyre lesbians to me. theyre doomed yuri. do you see my vision

mutual 11: i love violence. women who love violence hmu.

mutual 12: the ibm system/360 has an almost sexual quality if i'm being honest

mutual 13: (art that could easily be seen displayed in a museum as a work of a fine master) its the yaoi

mutual 14: my idiot cat ate my entire fucking cake??? (# hes ok)

mutual 15: oh hatsune miku we're really in it now

mutual 16: (image of a character who has killed thousands and injured many more) shes like a sopping wet pathetic cat to me

mutual 17: i think i huave autism

mutual 18: (the same cryptic meme reblogged 50 times, interspersing with the rest of the dash)

mutual 19: for vampires drinking blood is like a sluttier version of eating pussy. especially if its gay

mutual 20: (responding to an incredibly vague and mysterious ask with no context) hello mutual x. i know its you

#lore talks

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ore-ion · 5 months ago

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Finally watched Transformers One! Here's me and my irls reaction to it, lol

Edit; I went home and hugged the only megatron figure I had and just sat on the bed lmao 💀 that emotional damage wasn't joking

[Under the cut, I'll minimalise spoilers but I suppose it's mostly pics and commentary.] Nothing is in chronological order btw :D

Before:

I'm the guy in a dark red / magenta shirt

Anddd after the emotional damage;

And for the commentary:

NUMBER. ONE. INHALEESSSS;;;

Sentinel, GOD YOU'RE SUCH AND ASSSSSSS 🔥💥💥💥💥💥💥 my professor is going to hear about you.

2. Yes I carried around a camera to the cinema for a photography project no I didn't get to capture myself cry in 4k HD unfortunately, as much as I wanted that to happen.

3. THE..MEGOP ARC....HURT. SO BAD. Us 3 had to hug each other across our seats it's SO GOOD. It hurts. Ouch 👍 I knew i how it ends but God...that stabbed a little close to home

4. Saying "oh. Oh that's gore of my comfort character " so often it feels surreal

5. At some point in D's arc, I went "fuck you, I'm in!" And my irls looked at me like 'no you are NOT. ' like I would join another riot (I would)

6. Bee reminds me so much of my own friend and hearing him yap was so fun, live laugh love for this little dude. I will cherish his existence as long as I'm alive.

7. SENTINELLLLLLL. How dare you.

8. This is our old man, this is the Alpha Trion, which is the best peepaw. Je t'adore, vieil homme, you are very awesome.

9. I will personally kick Sentinel in the face too, D. Just not that far–

10. The speeches and use of language here is so good, you can HEAR the arrogance, sarcasm, etc etc and the intonation of characters so clear its amazing.

11. The parallels make me want to jump and freedive into the sky goddammit ouch

12. "Walked in knowing they're exes, walked out knowing why he's everyone's ex"

13. I'm still not over the emotional bond of D and Pax I'm not okay about them 😔

14. ELITA IS SO COOLLLLL LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE HER SO MUCH OH MY GOD???

More silly Images:

The best feeling ever: fuck you, sentinel.

#transformers one #admin updates #transformers #tfone sentinel #i HATE him.#in a hyperfixation way.#words.

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dallasgallant · 3 months ago

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I never realized it before until recently but it’s so crazy how much and how often ponyboy babies johnny in the book….. always talking about him being the pet of the group (which is true but he really does talk about him like he was a dog or a cat like chill out girl 😭), how much hero worship he has for everyone around him, his stature and soft spoken-ness, pony really seems to preserve him by making him seem like 10 years old even though he describes many situations in which johnny is taking care of him especially in windrixville like staying awake for him on the train letting him sleep on him, his own jacket as a blanket when he goes to buy them food, etc lol I hope you get what I mean I don’t have the book with me rn so I can’t really give off exact examples off the top of my head but—

also maybe that’s why people are often soooo turned off by the concept of J and D being a ship because of how PB describes him, I’ve seen people think that J was the same age or younger than him and so they think of a big brother/little brother dynamic for jally when they actually seem more on equal ground than pony and dally (who in a kind of mentor/mentee relationship) and even pony and johnny (who I’d say are in more of a brother relationship… controversial opinion I know but I’m sticking with it!) in fact I’d say they’re the Most on equal ground in the whole story even more than soda and darry…. but I’ll let you guys figure that out on your own… even though JD only have a 1.5 age difference

okayyyyy so I definitely didn’t mean to make this about the ship dynamics of the book but I guess I can’t not be gay for five fucking minutes 😭😭😭 but it’s relevant to the point !!! idk I just felt like rambling to someone about it because pony really does talk about him like he’s so little and I think that really muddles the perception of johnny even though he’s trying to honor his memory because of the delicate ways he’s trying to protect him after he died :(

johnny cade they will never make me hate you </3

Oh yeah, I definitely think a lot of it is Pony’s recognition of himself as the youngest, as a “baby” and sort of projecting it off onto someone else. However, we know the gang doesn’t just see pony as “the kid brother” so it’s sort of his own issue to work out- as well as I think a bit of a lack of understanding? Or lack of a way to properly explain the way the gang treats Johnny, they take it a little easy on him as he’d been shaken pretty bad (they wouldn’t known/use ‘traumatized’ but they would know he changed a little) but they never really talk down to him.

No but yes I agree! Pony sort of washes over a lot of senecios where Johnny is clearly the older/more mature of the two of them. He’s the second youngest but he’s still 16. He’s still protecting and helping Pony like the rest of the guys and the whole “my fault for dragging a 13 year old kid along” detail…

No you’re right honestly. It’s weird to me as Johnny’s described as soft and close to Ponyboy but he never came across as 14 or that young to me in the book or movie— like there was always that knowledge to him that revealed his age. And I agree… he and Dally are on equal footing and trust. They have something going on whatever way you interpret it…. Personally I find “little brother” INSANE. As where people baby Johnny they over age Dallas… he’s 17 it’s a years age difference. If a friend barely older than me tried to pull that I’d throat punch them 😭 it’s ? They’re trying to make it cute but it feels a little demeaning? Putting the “little” in there. Dal doesn’t talk down to Johnny… honestly he talks up to him, gets mad expecting him to know better etc — trusts him with the gun, money etc everything and taking responsibility.

But no that’s also so sweet that in a way, even if Pony is being a bit off in how Johnny was treated that he’s trying to sort of protect him within his story. Honor him in a strange way. Ough. He was his best friend, you’d want to sweeten that image. Absolve.

#the outsiders #outsiders #thanks for the ask! send more 🧍‍♂️#asks #outsiders book #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #dallas winston #tried to keep neutral as even if I do ship it— irregardless of how you view them they do have some equality/respect

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hivemuthur · 24 days ago

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What was that? - Ch. 6.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 3,7K

tag: #what was that

summary: Renly has more than one breakthrough, or a couple of them actually, as some things are getting addressed. And Viktor is a cat, all the way through :')

author’s note: Beta reader: @rennethen + I might or might not have written Chappell Roan into this chapter lol. Reading it back after some time, I think this is still my favourite fic I've written.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Later that week, Viktor found himself in the lab, working intently on a schematic when he overheard a familiar rustling from the couch. He glanced over, catching Renly with her nose buried in the same romance novel she’d been reading the day he found her napping. The image of her in that peaceful moment—the softness of her expression as she drifted into sleep—came back to him, reminding him how much has shifted between them.

He remembered the weight of their last fight—how it had left a rawness he couldn’t shake, a vulnerability he wasn’t accustomed to. Yet somehow, here in this shared quiet, the distance between them felt smaller, as though the edges of that wound had begun to blur. It seemed like the argument had faded into something distant, something they hadn’t properly addressed but no longer weighed as heavily.

Viktor pushed that thought aside as he caught sight of Renly, her lips quirking up slightly in amusement as she glanced up from her book.

"Still on that, I see," Viktor remarked, his voice laced with a teasing tone as he slid his glasses back up his nose. “I would have thought you’d be working on something more... productive.”

Renly looked up at him, an eyebrow arched. “You know, I was starting to think I was the only one who actually read,” she quipped before returning to her book. Her lips twitched again in amusement. “But I suppose when one is as brilliant as you, there’s no time for... distractions.”

“Distractions?” Viktor smirked, pushing himself away from the workbench and moving toward her. “Is that what you’re calling it? I always thought a good book was meant to enlighten one’s mind, not indulge in... fluff.”

Renly’s eyes sparkled as she closed the book, folding her hands over it. “Well, you might be right, but if all that’s in the air around here is Hextech and mechanical precision, I think I’m allowed to indulge once in a while,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “Besides,” she added, with a sigh, “this is really the only place I get romance these days. No matter how hard I try to make sense of it elsewhere, it’s just—not happening.”

Viktor paused, her words catching him off guard. His gaze shifted briefly to the book, then back to her. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice a little more measured. He’d expected a joke or a defensive retort, but her quiet sincerity unsettled him.

It had been easy, until now, to bury his lingering discomfort about the fight and the... brace incident. Easy to ignore how it had made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. But Renly’s tone broke through the tension lingering between them, reminding him how unresolved that moment still was. He tried not to think too hard about it.

"And what exactly do you find in these pages that’s missing from your... other pursuits?"

Renly’s eyes softened for a moment as she met his gaze, her tone suddenly less teasing. “I think... sometimes we need reminders that affection isn’t just calculated strategy or cold theory,” she said, her voice quiet. "That there’s still room for things that don’t need to be rationalized."

Viktor blinked, the unexpected weight of her words sinking in. For a moment, he was left speechless, a warmth creeping up his neck as he processed what she was implying. She was talking about him—about them, wasn’t she? The thought unsettled him, but it also felt oddly comforting. It reminded him that, despite their unspoken tensions, something continued to bind them together.

He cleared his throat, recovering quickly. “I see. So the book serves as your... emotional outlet, I take it?”

“Something like that,” Renly responded with a shrug, her lips curving into a half-smile. “It’s not like I have time for anything else, you know? Sometimes a girl just needs a little fantasy.”

Viktor’s mind wandered, the quiet flicker of doubt giving way to something far less manageable. Did she see me as part of that fantasy? The question hung in the air, and his gaze lingered on Renly as she looked away, unaware of the way his thoughts had begun to shift. He couldn’t deny that his mind had a tendency to wander into unwanted territories, especially when it came to her.

There were moments when his thoughts would spiral out of his control, moments when her presence, her proximity, became an undeniable temptation.

The seemingly innocuous moment when she adjusted his brace had short-circuited his usual calm. The sensation of her touch lingered with him long after the incident, invading his thoughts when he was alone in the lab, when the hum of machinery filled the silence. It wasn’t the first time someone had touched him, but it was the first time it had felt... different. More real. Her warmth, her softness, had shaken him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

Then, there was the tattoo.

Viktor had never been one to delve too deeply into the pasts of others—he had enough of his own darkness to contend with—but that tattoo had piqued his curiosity, even as it stirred something in him that he couldn’t place. He had been so focused on her words during their conversations that he hadn’t noticed the tattoo until it was too late. A swirling design on her side, delicate but bold, a hint of rebellion in the ink that caught the light just right. It wasn’t just the design, though—it was the way her skin had felt beneath his gaze, the way the tattoo seemed to carry its own weight of meaning. His thoughts had lingered there, imagining the path of the ink as it spiralled across her skin, wondering what it would be like to trace those lines with his fingers. It felt intrusive, like something that wasn’t his to touch, but still, the thought had crept in uninvited.

And then, there were moments like this—when her laugh, her teasing remarks, the way she carried herself with such effortless grace, would cause his mind to wander yet again. His fantasies weren’t those of romantic idealism—no, they were something far more raw. Fantasies of touch and connection, fleeting moments where he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to not just be around her, but to be with her, in a way that went beyond the intellectual. Fantasies that he hated having, fantasies that he pushed away every time they surfaced, but that kept coming back. Her touch. Her laughter. Her presence.

He quickly shook his head, as if trying to physically dislodge the thoughts, but they lingered, unbidden. The warmth in her smile, the way she tilted her head when she spoke to him, as if she saw him, truly saw him, and for once, didn’t look away. It haunted him in a way he couldn’t shake. And no matter how hard he tried to focus, no matter how many times he pushed those thoughts back into the recesses of his mind, they always seemed to resurface, much like the quiet ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

“Well,” he said finally, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I suppose we all need our... distractions.”

But even as the words left his mouth, a flicker of doubt gnawed at him. What exactly had she meant by that? Was she... hinting at something? The thought stayed with him as he watched her, uncertain but curious—wondering if, just maybe, there was more to these moments between them than he had allowed himself to believe.

Renly leaned back on the couch, book still resting idly on her lap, though her focus had shifted entirely. Her eyes wandered to Viktor, who had returned to his workbench. The teasing exchange they'd just had lingered in her mind, replaying in fragments. She tried to analyse it—to find the line where their banter ended, and something deeper began. Did he mean it when he said he’d thought about her emotional outlets? Or was it just another layer of the dry humour he wielded so expertly?

She frowned slightly. Viktor wasn’t someone who flirted lightly. Every word he spoke was intentional, precise—like the movements of his hands now, deftly sketching something onto the schematic in front of him. His posture was hunched but relaxed, one leg tucked under the stool while his cane leaned haphazardly against the table. She was struck, not for the first time, by how at ease he seemed in his element, surrounded by the hum of machinery and the glow of the Hextech crystals.

Her train of thought began to shift, drifting away from the conversation and into something... else. Her gaze lingered on him, not out of curiosity this time but with something more intense. There was a sharpness to Viktor, a deliberate precision to the way he moved, but beneath it, she noticed the softness he tried to hide. His hands, long and deft, moved with practiced confidence, whether gripping a tool or brushing his hair back from his face. She’d seen those hands up close when he’d adjusted a piece of equipment for her last week, and now, she kept thinking about them in a different context—how they might feel against her skin.

Her lips parted slightly at the thought, a warmth creeping into her cheeks, and she shifted on the couch, trying to redirect her focus. But her gaze kept returning to him, drawn to the way the light hit his face, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the determined set of his mouth.

When did I start noticing these things? she thought to herself, suddenly unnerved by how natural it felt to watch him like this. She hadn’t paid much attention before—at least, not consciously. Viktor was Viktor, the brilliant, razor-sharp mind who seemed untouchable in his focus. And yet, now, all she could see was the stray lock of hair falling across his forehead, the faint flush along his neck when the heat in the lab got to him. The way his eyes narrowed in concentration, glinting gold in the artificial light.

He was... dreamy. Why of course, she had that thought before. A thought she had quickly chased away, back when the distance between them felt like it could wrap around the earth twice over. The realization hit her like a jolt—not in a conventional way, perhaps. There was nothing polished or overly refined about him. But there was something striking, something magnetic, in the way he carried himself, the way his intellect poured into every motion, every decision he made. His presence filled the space effortlessly, as though the room itself bent to accommodate him.

Her gaze trailed lower, taking in the lean lines of his frame. He wasn’t built like someone who spent their days in a lab; there was a wiry strength to him, a quiet power that belied his otherwise bookish demeanour. She recalled the moments when they’d stood closer than they probably should have—how his voice seemed to drop an octave in those moments, how his presence seemed to expand, leaving her breathless.

She quickly tore her gaze away, a flicker of embarrassment rising in her chest. What am I doing? This wasn’t like her, to get so caught up in her thoughts about someone—especially someone like Viktor, who seemed so far removed from such frivolous things. And yet, the heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

Was he flirting with me earlier? The question looped in her mind. Viktor wasn’t the type to flirt—not overtly, at least—but there had been something in his tone, the way his eyes lingered on her just a second too long. Was it all in her head? Or was there something unspoken lingering between them?

“Do I have ink on me, or something?” Viktor’s voice violently ripped her out of her thoughts. He wasn’t even looking in her direction.

“What? No, I—” She blinked, the realization of her own words being used against her washing over her. “Oh, that’s very nice. Is this your way of saying I’ll die by my own sword one day?”

“Well, not necessarily,” Viktor replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I am merely protecting myself from your stare burning a hole in the back of my head. Is there something you want to talk about?” The joke lingered under his smile.

“Actually, Viktor, about earlier—” She paused, trying to measure if her attempt was worth it. Things had been better between them lately, but she didn’t like leaving misunderstandings to fester. She could just apologize for being so harsh with him about Singed.

“Any particular ‘earlier’? Or are we addressing everything that ever happened prior to this stimulating conversation?” Viktor turned on his chair to face her, a knowing smirk on his lips.

Oh, screw you, were the first words that tried to push themselves out of her mouth, but she decided to act like an adult. “I’m sorry about what I said, about Singed. I was quick to judge—I shouldn’t have been. I also have done things that, if I’d had a choice, I would have done differently.”

Viktor steadied himself, resting his hands, fingers entwined, on his knees. “It is fine. I am sorry about my reaction as well. It wasn’t about you; my past is something I revisit with reserve. I appreciate your apology and accept it.” His words came out more formal than he’d intended.

“Alright. I’d better get to doing something productive,” she said with a smile, pushing herself up from the couch.

***

Renly adjusted the focus on the microscope, her movements careful, almost reverent. Beneath the lens, the sample swirled with a faint, eerie shimmer, as if the cure itself carried some cruel sense of beauty. She leaned closer, her breath catching as she watched the tiny particles disintegrate. First, the infected cells broke apart, their jagged edges dissolving into nothingness. But then, the healthy cells followed—a slow, agonizing evaporation that made her stomach twist.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it happen. Every trial ended the same way: destruction indiscriminately sweeping through, leaving behind nothing but an empty slide and a hollow ache in her chest. But today, it felt different. More personal. She couldn’t shake the thought of Viktor—his cells, his essence—being obliterated under her gaze.

Her hand hovered over the microscope, hesitating to adjust the focus again. The magnified particles seemed so small, so insignificant, and yet they carried the weight of everything she’d been working toward. How many of these trials would she need to run? How many times would she have to watch Viktor evaporate, piece by microscopic piece, before she found something that worked?

A part of her wanted to pull away, to stop looking altogether. But another part of her—the stubborn, determined part—kept her rooted in place. She wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t. Not when he had already placed so much faith in her. Not when the stakes were so high.

The silence was interrupted by the sharp, rattling sound of Viktor’s cough echoing from the adjoining room. Renly froze mid-note, her pen hovering above the page, before she bolted to her feet. Her heart pounded as she rushed to the doorway, finding Viktor leaning heavily on his cane, one hand braced on the edge of his desk, the other clutching his chest.

“Viktor!” she called, her voice tight with urgency. She was at his side in an instant. “What do you need? Water? Medicine?”

He shook his head, struggling to catch his breath. “No… it—” Another violent cough cut him off, and she saw faint specks of blood on his palm when he lowered his hand.

Her jaw tightened, a flicker of anger bubbling beneath the surface—not at him, but at herself. She should’ve been further along by now. This shouldn’t still be happening. “You’re coughing up blood,” she said, her voice quieter but taut with frustration.

He managed a weak smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, well… this is not new. Though I believe…” He paused to draw a shuddering breath. “This may be your… opportunity for that sample you mentioned.”

Renly winced at his attempt to make light of the situation but quickly shook off her hesitation. “Forget the sample for now. You need to sit down.”

She guided him to a chair, her hands firm but careful. Once he was seated, she massaged his chest and back with her fists, wiping the drop of blood from his lip with her thumb. She crouched in front of him, gripping the armrests of the chair as though steadying herself. Viktor leaned back, his face pale and drawn, but the intensity in his golden eyes hadn’t dimmed.

Without thinking, she reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing against the sharp line of his cheekbone. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and his breath hitched slightly at the contact.

“Viktor…” she murmured, her voice thick with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Her thumb traced the curve of his jaw, her touch tentative yet unhurried, as though committing his features to memory. “You know, it’s terribly unfair for you to look this good when you’re giving me so much grief.”

Her words slipped out unfiltered, her focus entirely on him, and they startled a quiet laugh from him—a breathless, disbelieving sound that softened the tension.

“Is that your way of complimenting me?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with dry amusement.

Renly blinked, realizing what she’d said, and a faint blush crept up her neck. Still, she smiled, refusing to pull away. “I’m just stating facts. Sharp cheekbones, a jawline that could cut glass… It’s distracting, really. Hard to stay mad at someone who looks like they stepped out of a portrait.” She tried to deflect how much this scared her, keeping her tone light.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, though a flicker of vulnerability crossed his gaze. “And here I thought you were angry with me.”

“I am,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But not for the reasons you think—not with you. I’m angry because I haven’t solved this yet. Because you’re still suffering, and I—” She stopped herself, her grip on his face tightening for a brief moment before she let her hand fall away. “I hate that this is happening to you.”

He hesitated, his own hand rising as if to catch hers, but it stopped just short. “Renly,” he said quietly, “this is not your fault. You are doing everything you can.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. The movement startled him, and he froze for a moment before his arms came up tentatively to return the embrace.

The hug deepened, his grip tightening as though afraid to let go. She pressed her face against his shoulder, breathing him in. It wasn’t like her to express herself so openly, and she could feel her pulse racing, but she didn’t care. For once, she let herself feel everything.

For Viktor, the closeness was both grounding and terrifying. He rarely allowed himself such vulnerability, and yet, holding her like this felt like an anchor in the storm of his failing body.

When they finally pulled apart, she caught his gaze and placed her hand on his cheek again, her thumb brushing lightly over his temple. “You’re not weak, Viktor,” she said softly, her voice firm and resolute. “Not in the ways that matter.”

He looked at her, something raw flickering in his eyes, and shook his head faintly. “You are… persistent,” he murmured, his tone laced with reluctant affection.

“And you’re infuriating,” she shot back, her voice breaking into a small laugh.

They lingered like that for a moment, tension between them laced with something unspoken before Viktor cleared his throat and gestured to the bloodied handkerchief. “Shall we get this over with?”

Renly nodded, her resolve hardening once more as she retrieved a sample vial. She worked carefully, silently, though her touch lingered on his hand just a moment too long before she took the sample.

When she was done, she met his gaze again, her voice quiet but steady. “I won’t stop. I’ll figure this out.”

He studied her for a long moment before nodding, his expression unreadable but softened by the faintest hint of a smile. “I have no doubt of that.”

***

After some tea and a bit of rest, they both returned to their abandoned work. Renly moved to her workstation in the main lab, choosing a spot where she could keep an eye on Viktor. She kept glancing over, watching for any signs of discomfort. Unfortunately, her frequent attention seemed to make him uncomfortable.

“Anyone alive in this tomb?” Jayce’s voice echoed through the silence, cutting through the stillness. “Why are you guys so quiet?”

“Why, hello, Mr. Tallis! And where, pray tell, have you been while we, your humble lab partners, slaved away relentlessly?” Renly responded without missing a beat, her tone teasing. She had already decided not to mention Viktor’s coughing fit; Viktor wouldn’t appreciate the concern being shared.

“Yes, I’m starting to think your contribution to the project will soon be reduced to just a name on the title page, Mr. Medarda,” Viktor quipped, his smirk drawing a hearty laugh from Jayce.

“Alright, alright, I surrender! But for your information, I haven’t been with Mel,” Jayce declared, grinning broadly as if anticipating their scepticism. “I’ve actually secured us some time at the fundraising gala. Got to keep this venture afloat, right?”

Renly let out an impressed whistle, while Viktor responded with a low grunt.

“You okay there?” Jayce asked, his expression softening as he placed a hand on Viktor’s back in a gesture of quiet concern.

“Yes, just a minor… inconvenience. I’ll be fine,” Viktor replied, his voice quieter now. “I’m wrapping up and heading home soon.”

The three of them eventually settled into their own corners of the lab, the scratch of pens filling the silence. Renly, as was her habit when lost in thought, began humming softly under her breath. The melody was lilting, meandering through the air like a breeze stirring dust motes.

Jayce perked up at the sound, his ears catching the tune. “Is that… The Ballad of Barrows Bay?” he asked, glancing up from his notes.

Renly shrugged; her eyes still fixed on her work. “Could be. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, now I am!” Jayce declared with exaggerated enthusiasm. He leaned back in his chair, tapped a beat on the table, and joined in with gusto, his voice deep and theatrical.

Renly’s lips quirked into a grin, and she matched his energy, the two of them harmonizing in the most haphazard way possible. Jayce’s booming voice drowned out Renly’s lighter tones at points, but their laughter wove through the song like a second melody.

At first, Viktor simply sighed, attempting to ignore the impromptu performance. He adjusted a component on his desk and turned his focus back to the schematics, but Renly’s infectious laughter tugged at the corners of his concentration. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the growing irritation gnawing at him.

It wasn’t just the noise. It was the day. The heaviness of it, the vulnerability he’d let slip twice today—more than twice if he counted the look in her eyes when she had brushed his cheek. It all churned inside him, rising with every mismatched note.

Finally, Viktor’s patience snapped.

“I believe this lab was designed for innovation,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through their chorus. “Not… whatever this is.”

Jayce’s hands froze mid-air, and Renly stopped mid-laugh, their gazes swinging to him.

“Alright, grumpy,” Jayce said with a chuckle, raising his hands in surrender. “We’ll keep it down.”

But Viktor was already standing, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. “I am done for today,” he announced curtly, his cane striking the ground with more force than usual as he moved toward the door.

“Viktor, wait!” she called out, her voice sharp with surprise and a tinge of frustration. She caught up to him in the hallway, blocking his path.

He stopped, looking at her with a sharp, unreadable expression. “What is it, Renly?” His tone was colder now, clipped, and she could hear the annoyance bubbling beneath it.

Renly crossed her arms over her chest, her lips curling into a frown. “What was that back there?” she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. “It was just a silly song, Viktor. Why did you get so—”

“I don’t like distractions,” he snapped, cutting her off, his words sharp. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “You’re distracting, Renly. That’s all.”

She froze, her brow furrowing as his words hit her harder than she expected. Distracting? She opened her mouth, but for a moment, she couldn’t find the right words. She’d never expected Viktor to be so blunt.

Viktor hesitated, gripping the frame of the door as if to steady himself. His voice softened, but only slightly. “This day has been…” He trailed off, shaking his head before finishing simply, “Too much.”

There was a brief, tense silence, and Renly felt her chest tighten. His words stung a little, she didn’t know why.

“Look, I just—” she started, but Viktor’s gaze hardened, and for a moment, Renly thought he might say something else to push her away.

Instead, his voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “I don’t like it when you… make it hard to concentrate.” His eyes were cast down now, his face still tight with frustration. “I don’t like how you make me feel when you’re close.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said. Renly stood frozen; her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what he meant to say, and yet, he couldn’t take it back now. His chest tightened, and he looked up at her, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“You are—” he began, but he didn’t finish.

Renly swallowed, her thoughts a jumble as she processed what he’d just confessed. He’d never spoken to her like that before. It wasn’t just about the song; it wasn’t just about her distracting him from work or how difficult this day had been. It was something more.

Her tension melted away, replaced by a deep, almost confused longing. “Viktor,” she said softly, the anger from earlier slipping from her voice. “I didn’t mean to... but I didn’t know I made you feel like that.”

For a long moment, Viktor didn’t speak. The space between them was thick with tension. He took a deep breath, turning away to avoid looking her in the eye.

“Maybe you should go back to work,” he muttered, his voice rough with the emotion he hadn’t meant to show.

Renly froze, her heart sinking at the weariness in his voice.

He left before she could find the words to respond, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Renly stood there for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line, before turning back to the lab. Jayce gave her a questioning look, but she waved him off and returned to her station, though her focus was clearly elsewhere.

***

Back at his apartment, Viktor let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his chair. The quiet of his space felt like a balm after the chaos of the day, but his mind refused to quiet. His gaze flickered over the desk in front of him, and his brow furrowed.

His notes.

He’d left them at the lab.

Viktor groaned softly, running a hand over his face before forcing himself to his feet. He couldn’t leave it there overnight; he meant to transcribe the remaining text today. Pulling on his coat, he stepped back into the cold night, the streets empty save for the faint echo of his cane against the cobblestones.

When he returned to the lab, he found Jayce’s coat already gone from its usual spot. Viktor sighed, relieved that Jayce had called it a night. As for Renly, he presumed she had left as well.

Yet as he stepped farther into the room, the faint sound of a melody reached him.

At first, he thought it was his imagination—just an echo of the earlier chaos lingering in his mind. But then he caught it again, softer, drifting through the still air like a whispered confession.

And then he heard her voice.

Renly sat by the microscope, the dim light casting her in shadow. Her elbows rested on the desk; her posture relaxed as if lost in her own little world. Her voice, quiet but hauntingly steady, carried through the room, wrapping around him like a thread pulling him closer.

"Do you picture me like I picture you? Am I in the frame from your point of view?"

She was completely unaware, her attention lost in the song, her eyes closed as if the weight of the words themselves carried her somewhere else.

"Do you feel the same? I'm too scared to say half of the things I do when I picture you.”

Viktor couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The way she sang—so unapologetically open, yet effortlessly composed—felt like a wound he hadn’t known existed, one he didn’t know how to protect himself from.

"Draw the blinds, light every candle. Slip off my pretty dress down my chest when I think of you."

He swallowed hard, his heart beating a little too loudly in his chest. He’d heard her hum, heard her laugh, even sing out of jest. But this? This was a side of her he hadn't seen before.

"Every night, both lips on the mirror. It's ritualistic, counting lipstick stains where you should be.”

Her voice dipped, just slightly, on the words where you should be, and it struck him like a misplaced gear grinding in an otherwise perfect mechanism. There was nothing deliberate in the way she sang—no effort to perform or impress. It was raw. Effortless.

Viktor’s grip tightened on the doorframe as he watched her, as if anchoring himself there might help him weather whatever storm was unravelling inside him.

The song lingered in the air long after the last note faded, and Viktor, still rooted to the spot, finally took a breath.

Renly shifted, oblivious to his presence, and for a long, unbearable second, he stayed frozen in the doorway. He had seen many sides of her—strong, witty, sharp—but this... this side of Renly was a quiet storm. One he wasn’t sure he knew how to weather.

When the silence stretched too long, he turned on his heel, moving quietly toward the door, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. He hadn’t meant to overhear, hadn’t planned on intruding on something so... intimate. But now, there was no ignoring it. He had to leave, to breathe again.

Just as he reached the door, Renly's voice floated out behind him, a soft whisper of confusion.

“Viktor?”

He paused for a split second, his back still turned to her, his hand gripping the doorframe.

Her voice came again, hesitant but searching. “Why are you here?”

For a moment, Viktor considered walking away without answering, leaving her to piece together the moment on her own. But something in her tone—the same unguarded sincerity she’d let loose in her song—held him there.

“I... nothing,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Carry on.”

He left, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, but the song still lingered in his mind, winding its way through his thoughts long after he’d left the lab.

And though he never turned back, the weight of her voice—the way she sang those words—stayed with him. Something tender, something fragile, had slipped into the cracks of his armour, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the sound of it.

The distraction kept Renly from immediately seeing what was in front of her. She stepped away from the microscope and lingered in the corridor for a little while longer after Viktor left. This man is impossible.

She returned to her station, adjusted the focus of the lens, and hesitated. Wait... what? She spoke aloud about her issue with the cure. Jayce, ever the brainstormer, gave her an idea using metaphors.

“What do you do during a war? You don’t just drop a bomb and step in, do you? You target.”

“Hmm… how do I make it target one thing and not the other, though?” Renly thought aloud as Jayce packed up to leave.

“Look for patterns. And then differences. I can help you tomorrow, would you like that?” Jayce offered lightly.

“Definitely,” she responded, her mind already elsewhere. “I’ll sit with it a little longer, you go ahead,” she finally told him, answering the silent question of whether he should wait for her to pack up as well.

“As you wish! But don’t stay too long,” Jayce shot her another beaming smile. “Oh, and Viktor… don’t dwell on it too much. He’ll come around.”

Holy shit. It worked. It actually worked. Jayce was indeed smarter than her. Well, now she couldn’t go anywhere.

Renly stood still for a moment, staring at the cure under the microscope, her thoughts drifting in several directions at once. Viktor's presence, his absence, his words—they all swirled inside her, mixing with the persistent problem at hand. She couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them today. Something... real. And it unnerved her.

And then there was Jayce, unexpectedly offering the perfect metaphor to crack the problem open, his words like a key to a door she hadn’t known was locked. She felt a small spark of hope as she revisited the idea he’d suggested, trying to see it through a new lens. The cure wasn't finished, but for the first time in days, she felt like she might actually have a breakthrough.

But that didn’t mean she was okay. She hadn’t been okay since she heard Viktor’s voice crack in their damned lab, and she certainly wasn’t okay now.

Her hand hovered over the sample vial, but her gaze lingered on the door, her thoughts circling back to Viktor. She wanted to fix this—him, the cure, everything. She wasn’t sure where her focus should lie: on her work, or on him. Maybe that was the problem. She couldn’t keep putting herself in a position where she was always one step away from making things worse.

The sound of her own heartbeat filled the silence of the lab, and for a moment, she just let herself sit with it, the quiet after Viktor’s departure stretching long.

As she sat down again, pulling the papers closer, a sudden thought hit her. Maybe there wasn’t always a right answer. Maybe she couldn’t save Viktor from himself. But she could keep trying. She would keep trying.

Her hand steadied, the pen in her grip as determined as ever.

The lab felt colder now, even with the warm light overhead. But she didn’t let it bother her. She would stay until she figured this out. After all, she had never been one to back down from a challenge.

She looked at the clock. It was late, and she knew she needed rest, but there was no room for that. Not tonight. Not when Viktor’s words still clung to her thoughts. Not when she could almost hear the weight of his silence at the door. She pushed it aside and leaned into her work.

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ophii · 7 months ago

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slowly offers you my pjo ocs.... accept? all the info you could ever want (/j) about them below cut

in order of the images, l to r, up and down: 1) THE ONE, THE ONLY... JADE SINCLAIR!!! "she, daughter of witchcraft, will reap" ive got a lot to say about her.... 1. shes like the percy of my ocs, the new plaything of the gods after percy becomes an adult. she/they, 14 (12 at the time of her main quest), daughter of hecate, bi. REALLY good at magic and controlling the mist. i mean... shes a hecate kid, shes great at magic and can do almost anything

the little gem on her athame (the weapon) was given to her by her dad, which was given to him by hecate. it kind of forms paths for her while shes fighting, resembling the whole crossroads hecate thing... shes able to call upon hellhounds by whistling!!! her strongest magic is related to night/the moon, so dark magic, you could say. her fatal flaw is kindness, which might be surprising based on her looks and abilites. shes too trsuting, kind, and isnt a big fan of killing. also, alexeis gf!!! btw all of her super cool magic stuff (the paths, whistling, etc) has cooldowns

part of the quest trio also i wrote something for the first prophecy but technically its not a poem so??? does it count?? idk: When night falls, the child of magic must seek out a key. With a child of tricks and a child of sleep, She, daughter of witchcraft, will reap. Lunionem* in hand, a stone to guide, Follow the moonlight through the night, Down to Hades, and with friends to help set her right, She'll find the key and seal the fight. * her athame, which is a knife used in rituals!! 2) "a child of tricks" NATHAN "NATE" TRICKER!!! hermes kid, obvi... he/him, 15 (13 at time of main quest), bi. really good at manipulation, pranking, and tricking people (who wouldve thought?) gets compared to luke a LOT, as hes kind of a big brother to all the campers who are younger than him (he is basically a better luke tbh) he hates the comparison though (he didnt even know the guy!!!). nate's fatal flaw is feelings of inferiority. his sword is meant to represent hermes' caduceus and i probably spelt that wrong but whateva. part of the quest trio. 3) kiki, the latest one i made. she has no last name for now lol. dionysus kid, can instill madness into people. she/they/xe, 17, pan. not much to say about them tbh. fatal flaw is not taking things seriously lol 4) MY SON ALEXEI ARKWRIGHT!! hephaestus kid, got burnt lol SKILL ISSUE!! a nerd... he/him. hes 14, demiboy, ace, and omni. good at forgery, a bit skilled at sewing though thats probably not a hephaestus thing. jades bf (his failboy swagger captivated her). autistic and has ocd. everyone has adhd and dyslexia tho obvi. fatal flaw is hesitation. 5) "a child of sleep" PHOEBE DREMA!! hypnos kid, 13 (11 at time of mian quest), aroace, sapphic, she/her. can control dreams, hypnotize ppl, and can cause people to become eepy. narcoleptic, falls asleep super easily and isnt the best at fighting. HOWEVER, her fatal flaw is ambition/recklessness, as she loves a good challenge/fight. ALSO FUNFACT: her arrows are dipped in water from the river lethe, so when someone gets hit with them, they are both injured AND they forget where they are for about 10 seconds. part of quest trio

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #riordanverse #pjo hoo toa #pjo oc #pjo ocs #pjo oc art #percy jackson oc #ocs #my ocs #bleh #art #ophii #ophii draws things

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lillxart · 1 month ago

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Merry Christmas! >w< >:3 A pictures of Snow White and the family!

;w; This was so much more to do than I thought it would be hahaha.

I do have a second Christmas picture planned where the kids are all grown up but my wrists feel like lead. So, even though I'm not going to be able to finish it until after new year's this is my blog and I can do what I want ;w;

But have a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Read further down for some fun little brain blurbos about me drawing this picture!

I'm so salty I had to cover up Taliesin's amazing outfit, so in the second picture I'm planning on him being more in view so you can see his clothes.

2. You'll notice that most eyes are on Mandragora in the image, because Mandragora is the more chaotic child of the family. Wanting to stand on Nebarra's back for the picture was a last minute thing, which is why most are looking at him.

3. The only two people looking towards the 'camera' are Taliesin and Aidewynn. This is because Aidewynn is a very comely and quiet child. He was told to look at the camera for the picture, so he simply does so without getting distracted, understanding this is a family photo. Taliesin is looking at the camera because its a family photo as well, but also because he wants the moment to be captured, the joy he's feeling at having such a big group of people love him.

4. This idea of Taliesin's happiness and love for his family is continued when he puts his hands on Mandragora's cheek, holding it lovingly as a statement that he views Mandragora just as much as his own son as he views his own daughter Nereid. He's also holding Nereid's hand because he just wants to touch her he's so happy. >w< like, "LOOK AT THIS, THIS IS MY CHILD!!"

5. For a while I've been drawing Nebarra with white sclera even though that's non-existent in pureblood Altmer biology as far as I know. But it occured to me that Aidenwynn has his father's eyes so I finally had to start giving Nebarra yellow eyes bc it would look weird for Aidewynn to have yellow eyes and Nebarra not to.

6. Finally got all the marriage earrings on display! As well as Tali's and Nebarra's wedding rings! Well, minus Snow White/Lorkir, but she never wore the marital earrings, the men did that as a sort of collective joke.

7. I literally had no idea what to put Nereid in. I sort of just figured it out as I went along.

8. I always end up getting so self concious about when I draw Snow's tits. Because I draw them, and then I worry they're too small. So I make them bigger. This is probably why her breast size has been sliiiiightly varied (not that I think anyone notices lol XD). I'm not trying to make her breasts like...disproportionately large, but they have to be big enough to where I find it funny.

9. Nebarra wasn't planning on grabbing Snow's leg but he ended up needing to for balance and he decided 'screw it my hand is already here' and he moved it up to her thigh to see if he could get a reaction out of her and she's gonna kill him for it later.

10. BUT Snow White's not that innocent either because the arm that you can't see is behind Teldryn Sero grabbing his ass.

11. Aidewynn is half hagraven which is why his eyes look like that. He doesn't learn to cast an illusion spell to cover up his eyes until he's about 15.

12. Aidewynn is about 6 years old in this pic, he didn't stop sucking his thumb until he was 7.

13. It irritates me on a personal level that I can't show more of Nebarra's war scars, as they are unfortunately covered up by clothing. Many people have different interpretations of Nebarra, and how I show off MY interpretation of him are the scars he wears.

14. Mandragora has blue eyes because Snow White's eye color is still blue, even AFTER she becomes a God, its just she's so powerful her power shines through her eyes which is why you can't see her natural born eye color. However, in terms of appearance that's the only trait Mandragora has from his mom. That and the highest concentration of dragon blood.

15. Nereid's eyes also have this 'power' effect since she has the strongest magic in the family. Hence why you also can't see her natural born eye color, which is actually NEBARRA'S eye color, greyish-blue. (giving birth to children in a fake mortal body you grew in a test tube is not an exact science).

16. I swear I just forgot how to draw braids.

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aries-of-spades · 2 months ago

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Ok so I did a li'l project with a fic of mine

Basically, I'd wanted to draw an art peice for every chapter of Zombie Fungus, making them almost like illustrations in a story. This was partially for practice with this sort of thing, and also so I could put them in when I print out my fic to bookbind.

I'd been working on this for a few months, and it was pretty fun choosing what scenes from each chapter were my favorite, or looked the most cinematic in my mind, and then transferring that to drawing.

Also good practice for actually doing thumbnail sketches and using references and values since they're all black and white.

Obviously, spoilers for Zombie Fungus, if you are wanting to read it it's here.

mild body horror for some of these

oki

Chapter 1, I liked the mental image of Scar floating the items w/ his magic.

Chapter 2, bird. To be fair, not a lot happened in that chapter XD

Chapter 3, it was funny trying to figure out how riding a strider would look and realizing it is not comfortable. But I had to draw this scene.

Chapter 4, Abigail ^^ also IDK why but Ren is always hard to draw for me

Chapter 5, I'm actually really proud of this one for some reason XD (dancing zombie-)

Chapter 6, thinking back, I could have done the falling bookshelf for this, and I'm not sure why I didn't. But I still like how this came out.

Chapter 7, I just really wanted to draw the hug.

Chapter 8, this one was oddly fun to do. It was also funny trying to figure out just how a bloody nose would bleed, only to find internet restrictions not liking that search.

Chapter 9, Love me some movement and effects. Looks like an album cover...

Chapter 10, this one was tedious just because of how many people there were. And then trying to get the lighting right.

Chapter 11, I do like this one, though it's hard to tell False is holding a shovel. Also all I can think of while looking at this is creepypastas 'cause that's what I was listening to while drawing it. So I think she's suitably scary, lol.

Chapter 12, I kinda like how the fire came out. Something about Bdubs' face is off, but I don't really know what and didn't want to go back and change it after finishing.

Chapter 13, of course, I had to draw this scene. I had a pintrest board of faling people for this. The movement was a bit hard to get, but I thinked it worked out. Also expression :)

Chapter 14, this one was... fun. I don't know what to say, other than it would be really hard to explain the context XD But I think the details came out nicely. Living pinecone. Also I keep forgetting Ren's sunglasses.

Chapter 15, this one might just be my favorite out of all of them. The values and the circular layout worked well, and the spooky vibes are there. I really wanted to capture the idea of the ghosts without directly stating it, just like when writing that scene.

Chapter 16, I do like this one, though I feel like the values don't have quite enough contrast. It was interesting trying to figure out what exactly the source block would look like, and just trying to get the general atmosphere. But overall, I like it.

I debated doing one for the epilogue, but couldn't decide on a layout I liked. If that changes I will update this lol.

But yeah, they were super fun to work on, and I totally recomend doing this sort of thing with really any story if you want to practice scenes/backgrounds/just making a drawing look like it would be in a book.

#hermitcraft #art #fanfiction #Zombie Fungus AU #mcyt fanart #ok character tagging time here we go #goodtimeswithscar #falsesymmetry #grian #mumbo jumbo #rendog #ethoslab #xisumavoid #bdoubleo100 #xbcrafted #keralis #cubfan135 #tangotek #actually not too bad lol

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truebluewhocanoe · 1 year ago

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Mutual 1: Hey does anyone know a lawyer who specializes in marital disputes and also adult kidnapping

Mutual 2: Check out this song I learned on my recorder 😇

Mutual 3: PPE is for chumps. I run my own lab and constantly have dangerous chemicals ready to go just to scare off my supervisor

Mutual 4: My dog doesn't like my yoyo tricks 😔

Mutual 5: Google, how do I unadopt a child? Send. Send. Why isnt it showing me the results

Mutual 6: Cat pin of the day is one of Khoshekh from Welcome to Night Vale. Image is a cognitohazard for lower life forms BTW

Mutual 7: Just blew up a dictator. Lol

Mutual 8: Help I forgot my login, how do I change my password?!?

Mutual 9: Fish n chips w/ the bff 🌹! Fantastic 🐟🍟😃

Mutual 10: Does anyone else get Really Scared when someone knocks on their door. Even if you know who it is and theyre just knocking so youll let them in

Mutual 11: Stop showing me those slime videos they're making me hungry 😕

Mutual 12: Just got this picture signed by all four Beatles, don't ask me how I did it 😎

Mutual 13: Me n the fam!!! Please ignore the guy in purple in the back he's a wanted criminal dont worry we stopped him right after taking this photo

Mutual 14: Throwback Thursday is stupid. Why limit yourself to just one day? Throwback every day of the week. Do it. You don't have a choice.

#doctor who #the doctor #all the doctors

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vyl3tpwny · 2 years ago

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why it ourple

ok.

i'm going to tell you the story of how purple became my favourite colour. and then, where the name vylet pony came from.

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ch.1 the mace windu incident

once upon a time. I really liked star wars. i kind of still like star wars i guess. but when i was a kid, i REALLY liked star wars.

in my room, i had a mace windu poster.

i still can't find the exact poster. it looked something like this

mace windu was my fav star wars character for an inconceivably long time. with that, i also became fascinated with his purple lightsaber. nobody else had a purple lightsaber. i loved it. staring at that poster constantly made me really like the colour purple. ever since the poster started exerting its technicolour pressures and whimsies upon me, i became fixated on the colour purple. forever.

"hai!~ im mace windu and i loveee Videos!" - mace windu, star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith

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ch. 2 the viny scratch era

fast forward like 7 years. i am in the my little pony fandom now. i am 13 years old. i really like vinyl scratch. she is pictured here:

my first online presence in the mlp community was as a vinyl scratch / dj pon3 roleplay account. for a good year, people called me vinyl and "vy".

however when it came time to start releasing music in the fandom, i couldn't go by vinyl scratch at the time. this name was already being used by the artist who currently goes by Scraton!

this is still one of my favourite songs by them:

youtube

anyway. i actually held a really insane, irrational grudge against scraton for being named "vinyl scratch" as a music artist before me. i got past that after a while, because i had to stop being 13 first. i stopped being 13 and eventually fell in love with their music and we became friends later after!

but it's 2013 and i can't be vinyl scratch anymore. people already called me "vy" because of being a vinyl scratch persona.

so.

———————————————————

ch. 3 it's vylet time-wait is that can opener? CANNI?

it started on december 28, 2012. i posted to my then-instagram account this image:

you may recognize this as my oc canni. here's their reworked look in the 2022 album (10 years later) can opener's notebook: fish whisperer (illustrated by @astroeden):

can opener's original name was "ultra vylet". their colour scheme was originally intended to be the inverse of vinyl scratch's, as a sort of strange protest to not being able to be vinyl scratch. i was like ok. well if i cant be vinyl scratch, i am going to make a character that swaps the main colours. within a few months of "ultra vylet" existing, i discarded the design in favour of a completely different one:

this would be the only time vylet consistently had purple in her design until 2018 or so.. lol.

then. on april 15, 2013, i posted this to my instagram:

i had essentially combined three things:

The fact the people called me "vy'

The fact that my favourite colour is purple (violet)

The fact that I wanted to be vinyl scratch (dj pon3) before

———————————————————

ch. 4 vylet pony ≠ vinyl scratch

that is to say, i never really put a lot of thought into "vylet pony" as a name. i just made it when i was 14 and now i am going to be 25 soon. will i keep vylet pony as a name forever? not sure. do i take great pride in its insanely snarky origin? absolutely.

after i had decided firmly on "vylet pony" as a name — after dropping the "3" from it — i made a new instagram account. the very first thing i posted to it was this:

illustrated by my friend, shade.

now that looks slightly vylet-like, design-wise, oc-wise. oh. but now she is grey and black? ok.

she stopped being purple from 2013-2018.

here is how her design progressed through the years:

the first one is by my then-partner sara. this is when vylet's cutiemark was still an upside down music note, reflected from "ultra vylet" / can opener's original design. i'll show how it became a puzzle piece next.

the second one is by shade

the third one is by chibadeer

the fourth one is by astroeden

———————————————————

ch. 5 the puzzle piece

to this day, i still cannot find the fanart in question. but over instagram, someone asked to draw fanart of my pony. in doing so, they misconstrued the shape of the upside down music note as a puzzle piece, like this:

i've been looking forever for the original fanart/fanartist that made this mistake. because ever since that art, i just stuck with it anyway. i like puzzles and puzzle games. i'm also a puzzling and enigmatic person. and the puzzle piece can go into so many different things. all sorts of problem solving is like a puzzle. music fits neatly into that category in my opinion. so because of its intrigue and ability to mean so many different things, i just went with it. i never looked back.

———————————————————

ch. 6 that is the history of the colour purple and vylet pony character design

i hope this answers the question "why it ourple"!

#vyop #my little pony #mlp

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idontwanttospoiltheparty · 3 months ago

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Paul McCartney Discography Album Cover Ranking

Because I Feel Like It!

25. What was the vision here. I'm genuinely baffled. That pink feels so out of place. Why am I thinking of that one Narnia book.

24. C'mon, man.

23. Denny literally looks like he's about to sneeze. Linda's slaying tho. Why is the contrast so high. You can't even tell they actually took these pics on location.

22. It should probably be lower than London Town but I'm too much of a sucker for red/blue contrasts. It emphasizes his asymmetry way too much.

21. It's kind of a neat picture but it doesn't match the album At All. (Linda I Love Youuuuuuu)

20. The squished artist name and feet upset me. Nice picture though.

19. Striking. I really love the font. The reflection feels like too much.

18. Inoffensive. The colours are lovely.

17. Not super ambitious but a well executed concept.

16. Very cute and cool composition!!!

15. Neat concept. I prefer the cooler tones of the deluxe edition.

14. Love the copper here and the delicate touches of purple.

13. Integrating the album title into the actual subject is always inspired. I wish the tracklist could be found on it too though!!

12. Again: big red/blue contrast fan here. I just find myself wishing the picture (which is good!) was better integrated into the background somehow. Really like the font and the tetris-like blocks though, it feels very in character with the production.

11. Beautiful composition. Just lovely, possibly the most underrated one.

10. Love the handwritten title, the little pie detail, the colour palette, the fact the picture is slightly blurred. this is like if the Driving Rain cover was thought-through.

9. Unapologetically quirky like the album itself. I go back and forth on the blue frame but the portrait itself is so goddamned inspired I have to give it a spot in the top ten.

8. Gorgeous picture. The birds in motion are amazing. I wish Paul's haircut was better but what can you do.

7. This is amazing to me. This cover TELLS a story (I know it's basically a screengrab from some TV special lol). In connection with the title it makes me think "the egg" is earth itself. The way the lighting creates a natural frame. It's just so cool and unique.

6. I cannot decide if the concept of Mike McCartney happening to see his brother through the kitchen curtains and snapping a picture of it or having a specific vision for this image and getting Paul to pose for him is more impressive. This is the stuff of legends. He was fucking 18 or something. Though a part of me wonders if it really works as an album cover. I'd need to look at a physical copy more closely.

5. Back at it again with the blue/red. It works so well with the album's mood as a whole and it's a lovely picture to boot.

4. I just love getting lost in all the details of this one. There's so much to look at without the whole thing feeling over-crowded or overwhelming. I can see the brushstrokes and I love that.

3. The funky af font matched with the super super simple motif. Nothing to add. Having the title vertical and horizontal was inspired.

2. Iconic. Christopher Lee is literally on it.

Sorrrrry but the way it combines black and white with colour and it's VISIBLY homedrawn marker and the yellow is so iconic. This shit goes crazy, I don't tire looking at it.

#fiona.docx #paul

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axkirak · 5 months ago

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The Curse of Cassandra [EP : VIII]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings : Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader) [The Acolyte]

Content waring : Mention of substance abuse and references to suicide. (Be careful when using spice and drinking the Water of Life because it can kill you!)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary : In a dream, you return to the planet Arrakis, Where you uncover the terrifying mysteries of an uncertain future. The only way to learn the answers to your impending fate is to drink 'it' But are you ready to know the whole truth, or will you die before you find out?

Status: finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : This is the chapter I think is the best of all the ones I’ve written so far LOL. Can you guess who that mysterious guy is?

Ps.If you enjoy my work, please reblog it. Just liking the post won’t help others discover it.

➡ Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread // My mother is my enemy

[Episodes 8] Try looking into that place where you dare not look! You'll find me there, staring out at you.

Arrakis—Dune—Desert Planet

The words surfaced from nowhere as your mind sank into slumber.

In the space between sleep and waking, you saw a dim stone cavern illuminated by the faint glow of glowglobes. Every shadowy corner was filled with people—the people of the desert, whose blue eyes mirrored your own.

“Look outside,” a mysterious voice echoed, resonating throughout the cavern. It was a crackling sound, a blend of many voices, young and old at once.

You did as the voice commanded. looking out from the mouth of the cave. Beyond, a vast desert stretches endlessly. a barren and desolate expanse, yet radiant under the faint iridescent haze of pre-dawn mist.

For a moment, a long-forgotten poem your mother once recited came to mind:

My lungs taste the air of time.

blown past falling sands.

The pale white sun began its slow ascent over the edge of the cliff. Its milky light touches the dust suspended over the sands, casting a dazzling blend of yellow and blue sparkles.

A warm desert breeze stirs, carrying with it the faint scent of cinnamon, dust drifting into the cave and filling your senses. Your awareness sharpens.

The dust drifting over the desert—it's spice, you realized. And this was Arrakis, without a doubt.

Suddenly, a wave of longing and sorrow overwhelms you, so intense that tears well up in your eyes, and you begin to sob.

Arrakis—a forgotten planet, long erased from the annals of history. This place was the homeland of the Fremen. It is a past that can never be reclaimed, a place that was both the origin and the final chapter of your people.

At that instant, you hear a low murmur from deep within the cave. It sounds like a prayer, an entreaty, echoing the same phrase over and over: “Lisan al-Gaib.” The name of the prophesied one, the man who once led Arrakis to its greatest glory, and the one who ultimately destroyed everything.

It is said that when Paul Atreides first heard the Fremen call him Lisan al-Gaib, he felt the stirrings of a dark will buried deep within himself.

And that was exactly what you felt now—the seed of a familiar darkness, blooming somewhere in the vision, as if it had always been a part of you.

As you blinked again, the image of Arrakis faded, dissolving into memories of a future yet to come. You found yourself on Tatooine, standing before a young boy with golden hair, dressed in tattered clothes. Deep in your subconscious, a whisper told you this was your descendant, born centuries from now—the second Kwisatz Haderach, another man of prophecy believed to bring balance to the Force, rising above both Sith and Jedi.

You watched his life unfold, each moment passing like sand falling through an hourglass. From a small boy, he grew into a Padawan, then a Jedi Knight, before being consumed by the Dark Side. He forsook the Jedi way and transformed into a Sith, becoming a powerful and ruthless Dark Lord of the Sith, waging war across the galaxy. He laid waste to planets, extinguishing millions of lives—a catastrophe no different from the Jihad ignited by the first Kwisatz Haderach.

In the stream of visions, the name of Paul Atreides had been replaced by a new tyrant’s name—Anakin Skywalker.

"The only way you'll know is if you drink it," the same collective voice echoed once more in your mind. This time, it sounded exactly like your mother’s voice.

You remembered a moment five years ago—the last time you spoke with your mother. Her image remained vividly imprinted in your memory, as clear as if it had happened only yesterday. You saw her sitting across from you at the old, weathered table, her hand offering you a glass filled with a clear, blue liquid.

It wasn’t just any poison—it was what the Fremen call the ‘Water of Life’, a sacred substance distilled from the death of a sandworm. The ultimate test for a Sayyadina[1] and Bene Gesserit seeking to ascend to the rank of Reverend Mother. A trial with only two possible outcomes: pass the test or perish.

What your mother did wasn’t a deliberate attempt at suicide. It was a gamble—a risk she took to prove herself. Over the millennia, countless others had attempted this feat, but they all failed and died. Your mother was one of them. And you might face the same fate if you choose to take on this trial.

There was only a ten percent chance of success.

"Drink it."

The mysterious voice from your dream still haunts you as you wake at dawn.

You jolt awake, cold sweat beading on your forehead. Everything from the dream leaves you shaken, terrified by the future that lies ahead—a fate beyond your control. Your descendant will become a calamity to the galaxy, a tyrant whose name will be spoken with fear—Darth Vader.

That morning, you tell Qimir that you’re not feeling well. The pallor of your face, a result of your nightmares, makes the lie all the more convincing. He allows you to rest while he takes over managing the pharmacy. Once Qimir leaves the house, you return to your bed, sitting cross-legged, closing your eyes, and focusing on your breath. entering the Bene Gesserit meditation state. You probe through the opaque veil of time, stepping into the murky streams of the future that swirl all around you.

There must be a path, you think. A path to avoid catastrophe, a path where there is no second Kwisatz Haderach.

Your mind aches from the strain of using your prescient power, as if you've been staring at a bright light for too long. But what's different is that in your vision, there is no light—only darkness, a suffocating void that consumes every possible path, leaving no trace of the future in sight.

Anxiety grips you tighter. You push deeper, delving as far as your weakened powers allow. Yet, no matter what you attempt, everything remains unchanged—you can no longer perceive what lies ahead

How is this possible? you wonder. It's not that your power has disappeared; it's still there in your body, an inseparable part of you. But why can’t you see anything?

Then the realization strikes. This is an omen, a sign of impending disaster—of evil and death obscured from sight. A forbidden zone in the stream of time, one only a Reverend Mother or a Kwisatz Haderach can break through.

You snap out of your trance, fear swelling in your chest as you remember the cryptic words whispered in your dream:

"The only way you'll know is if you drink it."

You know what you have to do next, but you are too afraid to do it. Not because you fear death, but because you're well aware of the consequences that would follow if you succeeded.

In that case, you would rather die.

“I have no choice,” you murmur, letting yourself sink into a moment of despair. Suddenly, a profound loneliness envelops you—one you’ve never felt before. Deep within your soul, you sense that Paul Atreides experienced the same when he first accepted the name Lisan al-Gaib, fully aware of the terrible fate awaiting him.

Even the Kwisatz Haderach cannot escape the dreadful destiny they foresee.

You can only hope—hope that you won't end up like Paul, hope that there is still a chance to change something before everything spirals into a darkness far worse than you can imagine.

You rise to your feet and step toward the chest of clothes at the foot of the bed, nestled against the wall. Slowly, you lift its wooden lid, a soft creak breaking the silence. Reaching deep beneath the pile of clothes, your fingers brush against something cool, hidden underneath. You pull it out, revealing a gleaming, clear glass bottle containing a bright blue liquid—the poison your mother gave you five years ago. You didn’t drink it then but kept it sealed, hidden away, never once thinking to use it. Until today.

You pull out the wooden stopper, inhaling the scent of cinnamon wafting into your nose. As you raise the bottle to your lips, you recite your mother's teachings in your mind over and over, fighting to quell the rising fear and hesitation.

I must not fear.

Fear is the mindkiller.

Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing.

Only I will remain.

The litany washes over you, bringing a sense of calm. With eyes closed and a steady breath, you focus your mind. In one swift motion, you drink the poison down in a single gulp.

The sweet, effervescent taste of the Water of Life spreads from your tongue down to your stomach. Every cell in your body rapidly absorbs the strange substance. You feel a wave of heat from head to toe, surging through your veins and flowing into every nerve. The poison takes over completely, overwhelming your consciousness, while your white blood cells frantically scramble to keep you alive.

You now find yourself teetering on the fragile threshold between life and death.

Your senses begin to falter. The images in your eyes flicker between clarity and blurriness. Your entire body feels weightless and numb. You don’t even feel the pain when your face crashes hard onto the wooden floor.

And suddenly, everything falls into utter silence, as if time has abruptly frozen.

Your mind and body have completely detached. You are now nothing more than a speck of dust floating aimlessly through the vast, infinite expanse of space. You can feel and perceive everything—everything happening in the present, the past, and the future—all layered upon one another like a grand library. Your essence drifts, brushing against the spines of each book, books bearing your name, the names of your ancestors, and the names of the Reverend Mothers who came before. As you touch them, you see their memories—the vivid images of every one of them standing in a long line across the desert of time, stretching out as far as the eye can see.

A voice rings out from nowhere, gravelly and harsh, belonging to a man. What have you done? The Water of Life will kill you! He barks, his voice sharp with fury, making you jolt and tremble. You’re dying. You’re not ready for this trial!

In the shared awareness, you sense the authority behind his voice, a power that fills you with awe and trepidation. Still, you argue back, There’s no time... you know why I had to drink it. Your voice is so weak, barely a whisper. I need to see it. Please let me see it.

Silence follows, and you feel his concern and tension. Whoever this man is, he genuinely cares for you. His mind races to find a way to save you as your life force flickers, fading with every passing second, and could extinguish at any time.

He’s right—you’re dying. You're too weak to bear the weight of full awakening all at once.

There’s only one way, he says quickly. You must let me in. Let me become one with you. But if you do, you may be consumed. You will never be the same again. Will you accept me?

You know well that you have no other choice left. I accept you answer.

In that moment, your eyes perceive a brilliant light. The dust of another essence is floating towards you, sparkling like stars in the night sky.

Slowly and gently, that dust gradually moves closer until it touches yours, merging with you and blending into one harmonious being.

A warmth spreads through your body, enveloping you in a soft embrace and comforting you like a father holding his beloved daughter. It is a feeling of familiarity and safety you have long yearned for.

You absorb his essence, just as he absorbs yours, sharing your very being with each other. This process allows you to access his experiences. You witness it all through your own eyes—his memories, his life, his love, his losses, his death. All floods into you at once.

You’re utterly astounded when you realize who this mysterious man is.

But there’s no time for questions. Your consciousness is now being pulled toward a massive black hole, driven there by his will. The knowledge unlocked by the Water of Life makes you realize that this is the core of the prophecy you have been searching for: ‘Alam al-Mithal,’[2] the hidden truth of the universe, the mysterious place of time that only the Kwisatz Haderach can access.

The strange gravitational force from the bottomless void pulls you in, drawing you closer and closer until every part of you is engulfed by the darkness

And then, in an instant, you comprehend everything—every moment, everywhere in every universe—laid bare before you.

A torrent of infinite information floods into you, threatening to tear you apart piece by piece. Overwhelmed beyond all limits, your perception is crushed mercilessly. Your mind twists and compresses, teetering on the brink of shattering, pulling you toward the abyss of madness.

In the physical realm, your body convulses violently, internally ravaged by unseen wounds. Crimson blood trickles from your eyes, ears, nose, and quivering lips.

You are on the verge of losing your sanity, and your life hangs by a thread. But at that critical moment, another presence gently envelops you, shielding you. A faint, raspy whisper echoes in your mind. Don't worry. Stay calm. You'll be alright.

The voice is soft yet imbued with immense power, like a cool breeze sweeping across a scorching desert.

Your body begins to relax. Your mind returns to equilibrium, smoothing out all your thoughts into a unified calm.

You become like an enlightened being, observing the endless cycle of all life. Familiar stories and characters swirl in a scene that has shifted from what you once knew.

Amidst the beginning and end of all things, you witness your own tale: before you were just a small life in your mother's womb. Your mother, driven by fierce determination, attempted to create a new Kwisatz Haderach. She consumed vast amounts of spice while pregnant, hoping to birth a son who would be a male Bene Gesserit like Paul Atreides. However, the poison claimed the life of the male child before he could be born, leaving only a daughter to survive.

You—the daughter who was branded as an abomination from birth, the one who drank the Water of Life and rose to become the last Reverend Mother, destined to give birth to a daughter, continuing the bloodline of women through generation after generation, until the first man is born into the family—Anakin Skywalker, the chosen one, the second Kwisatz Haderach.

But on the path leading to the brutal war a century from now, you will face countless deaths along the way. You foresee a vision of Jedi corpses scattered across the ground and a Sith in a black cloak, wearing a cracked metal helmet, towering before you, holding a crimson lightsaber in his hand. You instinctively recognize him as the same man who has haunted your dreams and the same assassin who murdered the Jedi on Orega.

You can feel it in your soul. You and he are destined to meet soon.

This is a script written from the very beginning. Your birth and the story that follows were fated to be thus, like threads intricately woven seamlessly into the grand tapestry of the universe.

The stream of time, past and future, merges into one before splitting into two main paths. It reveals the beginning that leads to the ultimate end, where you will face a pivotal decision that will determine the fate of all life.

To stop it, or to let it happen

The immense weight of responsibility presses down on your shoulders, as if carrying the burden of the entire universe. You cry, but it is a silent weeping, without tears, in the void of your own consciousness.

You and I—we all have our roles to play.

The same voice of the man speaks to you. Now, his memories and essence have become part of you. You aren’t even sure who you are anymore. Are you him, or is he you?

Before you can respond, you feel a pull from the real world, intruding into your thoughts. A voice shouting your name, broken and intermittently, like a radio signal disrupted by interference. It is followed by a flood of emotions—grief, confusion, and anger—from someone else that ripples through your awareness.

Qimir His name comes to you, and you know it is time to wake up.

Slowly, you open your eyes. Your blurred vision finally focuses on the weathered, worn-out wooden ceiling above. Black rings of mold mottle the wood in patches. You find yourself lying on a bed, your clothes having been changed. You try to move, but your body feels completely drained of all strength. The poison has dulled every sensation—no heat, no cold, no pain—until the sound of a familiar voice calls your name.

“Hara. Look at me.”

Hara You mull over the name through the fog of your mind. In Chakobsa,[3] it means 'destruction'.

Finally, you understand why your mother gave you this name. Because my bloodline is that of a destroyer

You blink and turn your gaze to Qimir, who sits beside your bed. His face is much more gaunt than before, and the lines of his bones are clearly visible. His bloodshot eyes are filled with strain, dark circles forming underneath as though he hasn’t slept in days. His large hand grips yours tightly, his intense eyes never wavering from you.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he rasps, his voice shaking with the effort to control his rising anger. “Three weeks—three weeks you’ve been unconscious because of that damn poison. What were you trying to do? Were you trying to kill yourself?”

You shut your eyes, unable to bear looking at him for even a second longer. Not because of hatred, but because of what you have seen in the mysterious realm of Alam al-Mithal.

You feel a gentle touch on your cheek, Qimir's rough hand caressing your face carefully. "Is it because of me? Am I the reason you did this to yourself?”

At last, you open your eyes again, meeting his gaze. You want so badly to tell him it isn’t his fault and that he has no part in this terrible chain of events. But you know that would be a lie, and Qimir would surely see right through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, seeing the pain in Qimir’s weary eyes, the many tears he has shed for you during those long, silent three weeks. Weeks in which he barely ate or slept, searching desperately for a way to keep you breathing.

The Water of Life has expanded your perceptions, transforming what were once fleeting glimpses into a clear understanding. Now, you can see and know everything. But even without this heightened awareness, it takes no special insight to recognize the depth of Qimir's feelings for you. His love is profound, silent, and undeniable—a truth you instantly perceive from the emotional bond between you and him.

Your heart clenches with the conflict that tears at you. You love him as he loves you, but you are also terrified of the truth that this love will become the spark of catastrophe, bringing destruction to both of you and many others.

You bury your sorrow for the future that hasn’t yet arrived. You lift your hand, placing it over Qimir’s hand, still resting on your cheek. “I love you,” you whisper, the words coming from the deepest part of your heart.

Qimir gazes at you, and you can see the flicker of emotion in his eyes. He nods slightly before responding, “I know.” Then he leans down and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You swallow the sob that is lodged in your throat, guilt rising in your chest. You know there is no other choice. You have to do what is necessary to protect something far greater, even if it means destroying the trust and love he has for you.

You can only pray that he will still be able to forgive you for the decision you're about to make.

Footnotes:

[1] Sayyadina (meaning ‘friend of God’ in Chakobsa) was used by the Fremen to describe their lower-ranking priestesses who had not yet transformed the Water of Life and become Reverend Mothers. Their position is comparable to the Bene Gesserit Sisters, as both come from the same religious roots

[2] Alam al-Mithal from the Dune novels is a mystical realm in religious belief where physical limitations vanish and the minds of some deceased individuals reside. This world connects God with His creations, offering communion, revelation, and prophecy to messengers and prophets. Only the Kwisatz Haderach can access this realm.

[3] Chakobsa is a fictional language from the Dune series, used primarily by the Fremen people.

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