#this gave me major Brainrot

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

I'm home again, I won the war, and now I am behind your door.

Remember me? Before the war I'm the man who lived next door. Long ago

As you can see, when you look at me, I'm pieces of what I used to be. They made me a heart of steal, the kind them bullets cannot see

Nothing's what it seems to be, I'm a replica, I'm a replica

Empty shell inside of me I'm not myself, I'm a replica of me

Are you gonna leave me now, when it is all over

Are you gonna leave me, is my world now over?

I dream a dream, I'm floating in a silent scream

No-one placing blame on me But nothing's what it seems to be

Remember me? Before the war I'm the man who lived...

[breezypunk]

When he is the idiot ever, but you can't help but find it completely endearing.

[chuluoyi]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 (𝐔𝐍)𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋

- sylus x reader

master and servant. man and his right hand woman. you and sylus are labeled many things, but does love exist in many labels of your relationship?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, fluff, unrequited love, explicit smut, fwb, jealousy, hurt/comfort, description of major injury, blood loss, gore, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), spoilers! takes place throughout long-awaited revelry

note: my very first love and deepspace fic! :') w.c 5.2k ! i have a severe brainrot omg tagging @sanriosatoru per request <3

Everyone knows of your relationship with Sylus.

The leader of Onychinus and his notorious lady assassin, you two strike fear into his foes and allies alike. You are as deadly as you are beautiful, and that's more or less why he keeps you around.

What everyone doesn't know, however... is that behind closed doors, you too share his wealth and his bed.

“I don't mind to spend the whole night with you,” he’d whisper in your ear seductively at nights, deft and veiny hands roaming your body all over. He often made you ride on top of him, dark burgundy eyes hazed with lust, knowing full well that you desired the very same goal he did.

And you’d respond his hunger with the same fervor, crashing your lips into his, your tongues intertwining, your hips moving vigorously against him.

“Ahh... ah!” Before you knew it, his cock—thick and long in size—slid inside you in such a snug fit, making you throw your head back and dig your sharp nails into his skin.

“Keep me going with your voice, kitten.” Sylus growled, eyeing your wobbling lips and tightly-pressed eyes as he sank even deeper inside you. “Yeah, just like that...”

Sylus always began roughly, seemingly not minding your breathless moans and wishes, and you liked him that way too—

“Is this... all you've got?” you panted in a hoarse voice, sweat lining your neck and forehead, the coil in your belly tightened so deliciously each time he thrusted into you. “Surely... y-you can do better...”

“Ha,” he gave a low snort, his red eyes blazing as he grabbed your bum and squeezed it, making you gasp. “Careful what you wish for... sweetie.”

And then your vision literally tilted upside down—Sylus gladly flipped your position so he could see you even better. This way, he also had even better access to you, intertwining your hand with his, spreading your legs wide so he could rut into you.

“—!” Breath was knocked out of your lungs as immeasurable pleasure washed over you, crashing and receding in an instant. You almost screamed as your back arched.

He broke into a satisfied smirk. “Let it out,” he murmured against your neck, biting gently into your skin, voice muffled. “You never hold back with me, do you, hmm? So, don’t start now.”

“You b-bastard...” you looked up at him with a breathless smile, knowing how close you were to losing your wits.

He simply made your nights worth remember. His allure was undeniable, with a voice that was naturally sultry. And his hands... fuck, they did heaven's work.

It didn't take you long to finally reach your climax, and once you did, your moans were the nastiest all night as you continuously lined his back with scratches.

You could feel how he was chasing his own orgasm all the while, before pulling out right at the last minute and made a mess on your belly, falling beside you.

“Tired?” Sylus’ chest rumbled with laughter as you laid sprawled there in a haze. His eyes narrowed at the sight of your burning cheeks. “I really like this look on your face right now.”

You rolled your eyes, catching your breath and shivered. “I bet you tell that to all other women you manage to lure to your bed.”

“How presumptuous.” He sent you a sour scowl. “I have a high standard— you should consider yourself lucky.”

Well, you do. Holding back a smile, you changed the topic. “I’m cold. Clean me up already.”

“Now, now… what a spoiled little thing you are…” Sylus chuckled, his voice deep and low, yet wrapping his arms around you nonetheless, hoisting you up.

Nights of passion. Mutually beneficial relationship. Nothing more and less.

No strings attached.

This is thrilling. Intimacy without commitment is more than enough to spice your checkered life. After all, what could be better and more rewarding than fucking the hottest man in N109 Zone and getting away with it?

At least, you thought so.

. . .

“Damn, you’re going to make me sore…” you grumbled, letting out a deep sigh as you sank into the sheets after he had cleaned you up, still basking in the afterglow and ready to drift off to sleep. “Ahh...”

Sylus’ lips curved into a wry smile as he watched you make yourself comfortable on his bed, slipping on his black shirt. “Well, I’m just that good, and you did ask for it.”

“Are you going out?” you asked in a small voice, teetering between sleep and wakefulness as you noticed him taking out his favorite gun. “It’s midnight.”

“Luke and Kieran said she has arrived.” Sylus said in low voice, not even sparing you a look. “After all, she has gone through all that trouble to come here, it is only right that I greet her myself.”

The woman. Sylus had told you several times, how a woman with Aether Core and powerful Resonance Evol would eventually come to N109 Zone. And that when the time came, he would make her resonate with him.

A part of you didn’t really know what to feel about this vague plan of his. “Will you bring her here too?”

“I’ll have her stay here until we have reached resonance,” he responded casually while shrugging on his coat.

Sylus valued others depending on their worth. He said it so himself—he isn't a philanthropist. He saw potential in your evol—the Speech Manipulation—which is why he rescued you three years ago, even after you had swung a blade to his throat.

This time must be the same. You played with the edges of your hair. “Well, consider me jealous then. Seems like I’ll have a rival soon.”

Your quip finally caught his attention, as he finally turned to you, one side of his mouth upturned.

“Ha.” Sylus strolled over to where you lay on the bed and placed a hand under your chin, letting out a throaty chuckle. “Is there even anyone brave enough to go against you?”

You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “We shall see about that.”

Little did you know, the coming of this new girl would be the start of the undoing of your mutually beneficial relationship.

You would've expected the woman bearing Aether Core inside her to be way more interesting than that clueless, weak and easily spooked hunter from Linkon City.

But your and Sylus' definitions of interesting clearly differed though, as you caught him smiling after he pulled the most outrageous stunt on himself— having her shoot him right in the heart.

“She is funny,” he said to himself, almost snickering even as you wiped the blood off his toned body. “She was shaking so much the moment I pulled the trigger.”

“Is that your only finding—” you snapped as you wrapped the bandage around his bare chest, fuming. “—after shooting yourself just to mess with her?”

Luke and Kieran told you how he had used his Evol to pull the hunter girl onto his lap, then handed her a gun and made her shoot him. You couldn't believe it at first, until the sight of Sylus staggering to his bedroom, his shirt bloodied and clutching his chest made you almost scream in horror.

“Is that really necessary?” you scowled, tightening the bandage with more force than needed. “Or are you just trying to get her attention?”

Sylus’ sharp gaze settled on you then, seemingly not taking your comment well.

“What’s got you so worked up about this, hmm?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he observed your cross expression. “Last I checked, we agreed not to get involved in each other’s personal affairs.”

Personal affairs, he said? Everything you two had done had long past breached all personal boundaries.

But the fact remains that you two are nothing more than—

“Fine.” You tied the bandage abruptly and about to storm off, making no effort to conceal your ire. You couldn’t say you were worried or that you hated seeing blood smeared across him. That was never in the agreement.

Until you felt a hard tug on your arm—

“And where does the angry kitty think she is going, hmm?”

Before you could discern it, your back was pressed against the wall—your left arm pinned beside your head, with Sylus filling your view.

His sculpted abs were right in front of you for the taking, his scent permeated the air, and his unsettling swirls of crimson eyes had you completely captivated.

“Have I ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?” Sylus laughed as he leaned in, gripping your chin with his other hand. “If I didn’t know you were more than capable of slitting my throat in my sleep, I’d want you to look at me like this every day.”

It struck you how your heart raced wildly under his intense gaze. With his perfect face so close, the only sound that seemed to be most prominent was the pounding of your own heartbeat.

“What’s wrong? We’ve been closer than this,” Sylus taunted with a wide grin, his breath warm against your ear as he pressed his body against yours. “What’s making you so nervous?”

If you knew anything about Sylus, it was that he took pleasure in seeing you squirm in his hold. You glared daggers at him. “I hate you.”

“How lovely.”

“You’re infuriating,” you spat, devoid of any amusement.

He barked a satisfied bout of laugh once again, before releasing your chin. However, to your surprise, that very same hand groped your chest roughly—

“Then perhaps...” he hummed, a wicked glint in his red eyes, whispering to you with sultry voice right before he pulled you into him and devour your lips in heat: “You can help to fix me, sweetie.”

His kisses were hot as his tongue and hands made his mark on your body. Pressed against his bare skin, you gripped his strong, broad shoulders as he lifted your legs to his waist.

As always, he managed to dissolve all your lingering thoughts with lust. You just never knew one day you would finally reach the last straw though.

. . .

"Are you going out again tonight?" you muttered, tracing your fingers along his abs as you lay in his arms, still a bit giddy after your passionate session.

"No, I'm sleepy," he replied quickly, his voice low as he pulled you closer and closed his eyes. "Go to sleep already, kitten."

"I can't sleep."

"Poor you. I can though."

You quirked a frown at him. "You're so annoying these days."

"Oh?" Sylus cracked his eyes open, a smirk on his lips. "If you find me so disagreeable, you can always make me obey you, no?"

Your speech manipulation could make people do your bidding and it was a pretty useful talent. Apart from the first day you met Sylus three years ago in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you had never tried using it on him again.

"I won't, you idiot." You sighed and turned away, your back facing him. The idea of bending him to your will somehow didn't sit right with you. It was against your conscience now.

"Why are you facing away? It's freezing," he grumbled almost in a petulant voice. You nearly rolled your eyes, until you felt his strong arms wrap around your middle from behind.

"Why are you hugging me? We’re not usually this touchy after sex."

"I'm telling you, I'm cold, and you're my heat pillow."

"You're so damn insufferable..."

Despite your sharp retort, a smile found its way to your face. Moments like this were rare, and when he was the one seeking you, you couldn't help these butterflies in your stomach. Still...

You two are not in love, dammit. Sometimes it confused you a great deal. What is love anyway?

“Caw, caw, caw!”

“Mephisto, shush.”

Sylus’ robotic pet crow had surprisingly taken a liking to you shortly after you began living in the base. He obeyed your commands just as he did with his owner. The same couldn’t be said for Miss Hunter though, as Mephisto seemed to have a strong dislike for her.

You were idling at the living room with the crow when you realized how close it was to dawn.

“Luke, Kieran,” you called to the twins, who were bickering over a crate of oranges, frowning. “Where did Sylus go?”

Both stopped and looked at you, and Kieran blurted out, “Boss? Oh, he went out with Miss Hunter!”

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised, but you were nonetheless. “And he still hasn’t come back?”

“Ah, yeah... but I think they just went on a short errand. He’s probably back or already on his way?” Luke mused, and you clicked your tongue.

It irritated you, it gnawed at you—how Sylus had been spending so much time with that hunter these days. He was trying to make her resonate with him, but still, the way you saw it, he was going through his playbook—

Just as he had done when he pursued you.

Calling her “kitten”, “sweetie”... everything he did with her seemed like a replay of the first year you spent in this place.

Deep down, perhaps you had hoped that, in some way, Sylus would see you as you saw him. Love might be out of reach in your bleak existences, but you at least wished he would consider you an irreplaceable presence.

You were petty, and you knew it.

“Mephisto,” you whispered to the cooing crow as it turned to you pliantly. “Go find and bother her, okay? Don’t let her out of your sight,” you added, letting the bird fly away on your command.

Deciding to rest in his room, you left the living room with a sense of exhaustion. You had stayed up for Sylus on a whim, as he had promised to share his plans for the upcoming auction soon. However, sleeping at dawn was giving you frequent headaches, and the habit was wearing on you.

You took a bath and then headed to his bedroom, and you would have never guessed what scene you'd walk into—

Sylus, in his bathrobe, and that girl… nestled against his chest on his bed. The very same bed where you two made out just the other night.

“Y/N?” Sylus looked at you over the girl’s shoulder, and you were frozen on the spot, feeling an indescribable rush of emotions washing over you.

In the next moment, the hunter girl scrambled away from him in panic, her face flushed with shame. “I-it’s not what it looks like! I swear! Sylus— I was just trying to find his brooch and—!”

In that instant, something inside you turned ice-cold. Her frantic explanations—none of it registered to you. The fact that he let her into his bed was enough for you.

You weren’t sure if Sylus noticed, but your eyes darkened, your fists clenched, and a storm raged within your chest.

“Sorry for intruding,” you said frostily, cutting her off and casting a contemptuous glance at both of them before turning on your heel and slamming the door shut.

It was no use, you finally realized. In this twisted relationship you two shared, there could never be anything more than hot sex and flirtations.

Somehow it hurt more deeply than you expected, as though your heart were being scorched. Yet, you couldn’t even find the tears to cry—as you weren't allowed to do so.

Sylus noticed the change in you immediately.

You vanished from the base and returned in the evening, not sparing him even a look and he could tell then that you had come back a different woman.

And it was the part he hated the most. These days, he couldn't read you at all.

"Luke and Kieran, keep an eye on her tonight," he instructed his two underlings as the two of them were getting ready.

"Who? Miss Hunter?" Luke questioned.

"Or boss lady?" Kieran supplied.

Both of them liked you as well. Unlike him, you’d spend your free time indulging their nonsense, and over time, they even gave you that friendly moniker.

They didn't really know the nature of your physical relationship though. Or at least, didn't really know fully.

"The latter," Sylus gruffly replied, and then he went to the hunter girl to prepare her as well.

He had a justified explanation. If you had asked him, he would tell you nothing had happened. Your ire was better than silence, definitely a hundred times better than this.

But why didn't you come to him?

And why does he want you to come and demand him for an explanation?

However, tonight was the auction for the Aether Core. He had to finish this first before he could get a word with you later.

At least that was what Sylus had thought... until he saw you at the auction venue.

You were stunning in that black cocktail dress. He didn’t know when you had your hair done, but you looked as if you had spent the entire day preparing for this occasion despite having barely two hours after coming back. You were definitely a head-turner, drawing the attention of many vermin as you navigated the ballroom with grace and everlasting smile.

And it grated at him. Severely. Sylus's eyes were locked on each lowlife hell-bent on taking his life and desperate to get into your pants, knowing he would end them all tonight.

...and as if it wasn't enough, he then saw you entertaining one of them with that sort of smile you used to reserve for him.

. . .

"Mm-hm, really?"

"Yes, I've heard they are inside the safe number 209."

You coyly smirked, looking the man with mask in front of you, whom you had led to a deserted hallway, who had been complying and smiling at each and every question of yours.

"Thank you then." You flashed him your best smile, about to go back to the main hall.

"And uh, miss," he suddenly turned to you in a flurry. "I believe I haven't gotten your name—"

You chuckled, facing him again. "Oh, you want to know my name?"

"Very much so!"

This was like bread and butter to you. You effortlessly wrapped an arm around the man's neck, standing on your tiptoes, and whispered in his ear:

"Halt."

He went rigid the moment the command left your lips, and you could feel his panic rising as you pulled away.

"W-what happened—!?" he thrashed against the invisible hold manifested by your Evol in pure panic, to no avail, whereas you regarded at him with a cold smile.

"What a shame. I planned to let you be, but then you gave me the perfect opportunity." You maintained your eerie smile as you pulled out a thin, needle-like blade from the hem of your dress. "You have been a great help. Thank you."

With that, you slit his throat, and blood splattered onto the ground in a continuous pool as he jerked, collapsing like a broken statue.

You felt nothing at the sight, but you knew you weren't alone as you felt his presence.

"You started the party without me?" Sylus' deep voice resonated through the hall. "Didn't know you have that much of bloodlust this early, sweetie."

The clench of your heart was still there, even when you had decided to discard all your lingering feelings for this man. Still, you put on the perfect poker face when you met his eyes.

"I want this to be over and done with quick. I'm exhausted already."

Sylus eyed you calmly, yet somehow it felt as if the depths of those red eyes were trying to assess your soul. "Your actions said otherwise. Is flirting with him necessary?"

"You're one to talk, Boss," you scoffed at the last word. "As long as it entertains me, why isn't it?"

Sylus didn't deign you with an answer, and you decided to pour more oil into it.

"Strictly professional, no?" You lifted your chin defiantly. "Last I checked, we were not supposed to meddle in personal affairs—"

You didn't realize it until he did, because the next thing you knew, his right eye suddenly glowed with that terrifying shade of crimson. "You—!"

He has seen it all. In the three years since he took you in, Sylus had never used his Aether Core-infused right eye on you to peek into your mind. The first and only time it had happened was when he restrained you from attacking him on the day you first met.

This was the second time. And now, he knows. Of your petty feelings, of your deepest, truest desire.

At first, Sylus remained silent, but then his eyes narrowed at you, low voice booming through the hall.

"Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Y/N."

And after all that he knew, that was the only thing he could come up with?

You felt shame wash over you. You wanted to run from him. This was too much because he most definitely didn’t reciprocate your feelings, did he?

"I don't want to hear it," you resolved, the space around you felt constricting all of a sudden. You walked past him, about to break into a sprint—

Sylus immediately caught a hold of your arm though, sending a glare at you. "You—"

"It ends here," you blurted in heat. "I don't want it anymore. We're through, Sylus."

"Listen to me!"

He snarled at you, and it was the very first time he did so. However, you paid him no mind and pulled out your ace card, staring hard into his eyes. You could feel the start of his black and red mist, but your Evol was faster—

"Move."

His hold on you loosened, and he jerked back several foot away from the impact. You kept your manipulation on him, avoiding his fury-blazed eyes, bolting away before he could catch you.

. . .

The night escalated so much worse than you had imagined. Explosions and a sudden appearance of an Arbiterwings threw the whole auction into chaos.

You were fighting off the sudden wave of wanderers alone, relying solely on your blade since your voice was too hoarse to use your Evol. When one of them struck you and sent you crashing into a wall, you just sat there in a daze.

It was exhausting. Usually, Sylus would be by your side, covering your back at the very least. He wouldn't let a single scratch get to you. His black and red mist of doom would dominate the battlefield, offering you protection while at it.

You loved that bastard. It was so beyond stupid. Why did you have to ruin everything by having these feelings? If your heart was gone, would these feelings go with it too?

You got your answer sooner than you thought.

White-hot pain engulfed you when something impaled you right in the chest. The searing agony was mind-blinding, the only thing you could discern was your own wails.

No, the feelings didn’t go. Even as you teetered on the brink of death, that damned love only evolved into many regrets.

And in your final moments, you could've sworn you felt the exact moment your heart stopped beating.

"Oh my god! Luke! She is here!"

"Kieran...! Is she alive?!"

"So much blood—! Luke, call Boss! Call Boss here!"

"Boss! We found her!"

"What do we do?! Shit! It's right... in her heart..."

"What!? Boss! S-she is...! Oh lord..."

You had a dream, and it was of your first meeting with Sylus.

Three years ago, in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you were a mere scavenger until he found you. You had thought he was a threat much like others in this lawless city, so you unwittingly showcased your Evol before him in defense, until he pinned you down on the hard ground, crimson eyes holding you in place.

"I'm giving you two options: go with me and live, or die here in vain," he had told you then, a smug smile on his face. "I assure you, so long as you're still useful to me, you won't have to worry about food or roof above your head ever again."

What kind of homeless person would refuse that tempting offer?

Since you followed him, Sylus had never been untrue to his word. He made good of his words, idly engaged you in his circle, showered you with gifts, and at one point—

"You're... trying to tempt me, aren't you?" he growled amidst kisses, pinning you on his desk. Apparently, seeing you up close and personal every day in his home had worn down his patience. He was just a man, after all.

You wickedly giggled, even breathless, cradling both sides of his face and admiring those ruby eyes of his. "What if... I am?"

"Then consider me tempted, little kitten," he chuckled, his baritone voice casting a spell over you. "Remember though, curiosity can kill most cats."

Thus began your thrilling relationship, and you knew you would gladly stay with him just to have a taste of that heaven. And you knew too, he wouldn't cast you easily this way.

And of course, so long as you are useful to him, that is.

When you came to, you felt warm, and your position was so comfortable that you were almost lulled back to sleep.

At first, it didn't register to you where you were. The scene before you was so familiar, but you were so lethargic that you were late to recognize it.

"Awake?"

Sylus' bedroom. The realization dawned on you as that deep, low voice questioned you flatly. You jerked instinctively, looking up at him as he came into view, holding a glass of wine.

He was still the same. Even with you out of commission, he would still indulge himself with his wine. Somehow you couldn't really pinpoint what you should feel about it.

However, Sylus then did the thing you didn't expect him to. He went back to his pantry to get a glass of water, and then he came to your side to prop you up.

"Drink," he commanded, positioning the glass on your chapped lips. You complied and did so, feeling relief for your throat. Once you were finished, he gently laid you back on the bed and tucked you in, never once taking his eyes off you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Have been better," you quipped dryly. Then it dawned on you that he had never been this gentle with you before. He was showing care, which confirmed one theory you had about him: Sylus could be considerate when he chose to be.

The very fact that you ended back here didn't really faze you much, because in the end, you belonged to him out of all people. Just one thing that still didn't make sense in your mind: "What did you do?"

His burgundy eyes squared at you. "What?"

"There’s no way I could've survived that," you mumbled, trying to gauge his reaction. "You must’ve done something."

“Ha, when it comes to these things, you’re sharp,” Sylus said with a light scoff, and you frowned.

"Answer me."

"Aether Core," he supplied. "It was now in you, repairing your coronary system."

"You..." you were rendered speechless. "You—what? You infused my heart with a Protocore...?"

Just like the one in his eye, he had implanted you with that dangerous fragment that was from something as horrific as a Wanderer. The very thought made your breath hitch.

"Stay calm," he commanded, his hand found yours when he noticed your horrified expression, squeezing it as if to provide some sort of reassurance. "You'll be fine."

"H-how... why..."

"That was your only chance, or you would’ve been dead." Sylus' tone was harsher now, his jaw set firmly. "I keep telling you not to rush in carelessly, and yet you did. Did you even know how bad your state was when I found you? No, you didn't."

The way he spoke made you feel as though you were being blamed, and overwhelmed with your frustration, you retorted sharply, "No one asked you to save me."

Awkward silence lingered for a good one minute after your jab. You turned away from him, feeling conflicted, because you knew you should be grateful that he did so, because it meant the Aether Core inside you now was the one he had been looking for in that auction.

He gave it up to save you.

Still, it confused you.

“If I died...” you began, bitterness creeping into your voice. “Then it just means I’m no longer useful to you. You always discard things that no longer serve your purpose.”

You turned back to him, meeting his impassive gaze. “So why? Did you pity me after discovering my feelings? Is that why?”

There are many labels in your relationship. Master and servant. Onychinus leader and his right-hand woman. But you were also his lover, even unsaid. Was that fact that did it? Or a mere charity for the weak, you?

Suddenly, Sylus placed his palm over your chest, right where your heartbeat pulsed. You stiffened, bracing for some sort of impact.

But no, it wasn’t anything sensual like he usually did. His hand—large and warm—was a comforting presence, resting on your chest and feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Haven't I told you that I never act out of pity?" Sylus' voice was strained but softer than usual, his deep burgundy eyes holding yours. "Do you really need me to spell it out?"

You didn't dare to look away, for the moment of truth was right in front of you.

"My only regret is not being able to pull you back," he said quietly, his tone somber. "I shouldn't have let you get hurt."

Oh. You blinked, taking in his sincere words, something inside you softening and warming at his words.

You had noticed it too. Despite his roguish exterior, he had always looked after you during your time together. It was just that you hadn’t dared to hope for more.

“The naughty little kitten has managed to worm her way into me, it seems,” he chuckled then, flashing you that cocky smile. “So now, she has to be held responsible for her actions.”

His red gaze narrowed as he added. “Moreover, since I have saved your life— you owe it to me not to throw it away so easily. So you can’t rush into danger carelessly again, you hear?”

Those playful remarks were enough to dispel your doubts and insecurities. They answered everything you had been questioning, and knowing it, finally you let out a relieved sigh and exasperated snort. “You shameless bastard...”

And when he leaned in to place a fleeting, innocent kiss on your forehead, you realized that, in his own way, he saw you just as you saw him, even if only a little.

Sylus settled into the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his arm. Tonight, there were no passionate kisses, no steamy foreplay, or dirty talks— just you being alive and well in his embrace.

“How long have I been out?”

“Three weeks, woman. Luke and Kieran keep mourning you everyday.”

“Three weeks?! How did you manage without me for that long?”

Sylus glanced at you, a contented smile on his face as he held you close. “It’s been horrid.”

Neither of you would be caught dead saying “I love you”, and yet, regardless, you knew that right this moment meant so much more.

[eternalsunrise]

shower talk.

deadpool (wade wilson) x f!reader

wc: 750 (drabble)

tags! established relationship, sexual & murder references (duh)

notes! wade brainrot is so bad idk, logan fic coming soon pls forgive me

wade often barges into the bathroom while you’re in the shower just to sit on the toilet seat and rant about the mission he just went on, or even to ask what takeout you want for dinner. couldn’t it wait until you had clothes on? sure, but he wants to talk to you now.

unexpectedly, you decide to take a page out of his playbook.

you’ve just walked in the door after your 9-5, throwing your keys and bag haphazardly across the room in frustration. you spy the familiar rumpled up red and black suit on the floor, wade was home. you had complained last week about deadpool tracking blood into the apartment after his “work.” it seemed your boyfriend had listened and obliged. if it weren’t for your bad day, the image of him cupping his crotch as he scrambled naked into the bathroom would’ve made you smile.

you hear the water still running, but you finally understand how wade feels, this can’t wait. you open the bathroom door and throw the toilet lid down, unsure if wade even heard you enter over the sound of his own voice belting hall and oates’ greatest hits.

you sit down and let out an overdramatic sigh. your boyfriend’s voice quiets down halfway through “out of touch”

“honey bear? you’re home! these stab wounds will heal in about two minutes then you can join me. i know how you feel about seeing intestines, and i don’t want to make you gag…well scratch that i do sometimes—“

“i fucking hate men.”

you hear the sound of the shower curtain opening slightly, and wade’s head peaks out, looking at you with wide eyes, “woah language, babydoll! you know degradation turns me on.” his head tilts to the side, noticing the distress written on your face “but i have a feeling this isn’t about me…”

you spare him a narrowed glance, then watch as his head disappears. the curtain closes and you hear the water hit skin again as he resumes his shower. he’s giving you time to speak. remarkable.

“you remember that guy i told you about? the one that gave me major creep vibes? and was just an all around dick?”

you get a hum in response, and you can’t see it, but you know wade is physically biting his tongue so he doesn’t say anything. it’s endearing in a way.

you rub your face with your hands, the memory of what you’re about to say lights the fire of anger again, “well. guess who got that promotion i was being eyed for? i’ll give you a hint, it’s not someone with a vagina! and on top of that, i saw him try to look under my skirt as i was leaving! that fuck.”

you almost regretted telling him that last part, knowing where this was going. but your mind was clouded by frustration, and the water was already turned off. the rings screech against the metal shower rod as wade throws the curtain open, reaching over your head for a towel. “okay sweet thing. where does this cock suck and fuck live?”

your eyes catch a glimpse of red turning pink as it swirled into the tub drain. you shake your head, suddenly realizing the severity of what your mercenary boyfriend was implying. “no no babe please it’s not that serious! and you just got home. not to mention if people found out, you’d get in so much trouble all because of something silly that happened to me and—“

a long finger is placed over your lips. you’re eye level with wade’s v line, partially covered by the towel now wrapped around his waist. you trail your eyes upward, locking them with the one who interrupted your rambling.

“shhh. nonsense kitten. now. you’re going to tell me this guy’s address, and i’m going to go out for…” wade uses his free arm to look at a make believe watch, “hmm, about an hour. while i’m gone, you’re going to change out of this sexy pantsuit. then have a glass of wine, and touch yourself while you think of me fondly. i’ll grab dinner on the way home. yes?”

when you nod with wide eyes in agreement, he removes his finger, bending down to meet your face, “atta girl.” he praises as his lips graze your own, kiss light as a feather. he clears his throat then, patting your cheek a few times as he stands up to walk out of the bathroom. whistling as if murder was all in a day’s work (you suppose for him it is)

you sit there stunned, wondering if you just got your coworker murdered….and why you were so turned on.

[aestherin]

notes | kazuha x gn! reader

hcs

random headcanons because i had a brainrot session otw back to my dorm :D (also not proofread :>)

also may be considered a stand-alone but may also be viewed as kazuha from my keep my heart smau hehe (would actually be very in character since he's a lit major there) ^^

kazuha, who shared several major classes with you on your third year of university

kazuha, who by chance sat beside you on the first day and opted to just sit at that spot for the whole academic year

kazuha, who impulsively and secretly wrote a haiku on his notes app when he heard your voice for the first time

kazuha, whose interest was piqued by you when he got to read the works you've written when your professors required you to exchange papers and critique each other's works

kazuha, whose eyes subconsciously always trail back to you whenever they find the perfect chance

kazuha, who did not realize it until his friend venti told him about how he's making everything so obvious

kazuha, whose heart jumped and dropped at the same time when the two of you got paired for a certain literary project

kazuha, who tried so hard to hide his flushed face when the distance between the two of you became close to nothing as you two wrote down words on the same piece of paper

kazuha, who only realized how deep he has fallen when you smiled genuinely at him for the first time

kazuha, who stayed up in his room that whole night after that revelation

kazuha, who, for the first time ever in his life, could not come up with words to explain what he was feeling

kazuha, who started writing anonymous messages addressed to you on little post-its

kazuha, who started attaching those post-its to your bag every time he finds a chance

kazuha, who starts looking forward to writing you short poems and short notes every single day

kazuha, who is perplexed by the note he found attached to his bag once he got back from the restroom

kazuha, whose brows furrow even deeper once he realizes that it was the exact same note he had stuck to your bag earlier that day

kazuha, who felt his heart overwhelm his whole being when he spotted a very familiar penmanship at the bottom of the paper

i know your handwriting, kaedehara ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) would you care to send me more of these cute little messages at [contact number]? (,,>﹏<,,)

kazuha, who almost dropped his phone as he attempted to type as swift as he could with his hands shaking

kazuha, who swore that he would never ever waste the golden opportunity that you gave him

[hitomisuzuya]

Aventurine brainrot. Aventurine x fem!reader. Smut. Specific smutty appreciation for Aventurine's fingers. Fingersucking. Cunnilingus. Kissing. Marking. Fingering. Bondage (handcuffs). Collar.

This is comfort filth. I haven't been having a good day, and I have spent the majority of it crying.

Aventurine loves to watch you suck on his fingers. He has beautiful fingers. He knows this, knows how irresistible you find them. He'll watch you, his elbow propped up on the table with his chin resting in his free hand, pumping his gloved fingers in and out of your mouth.

His fingers will feel around and explore your mouth, his ever present smile unwavering. His eyes would glint with lust, and utter fascination as drool pooled from the corners of your mouth.

Aventurine's gloves are expensive. There weren't a lot of ways he could even justify ruining them. However, letting you suck on his fingers to your heart's content, your tongue lapping and your saliva soaking them was one of them. "Be a good girl, get them nice and wet for me. I can stretch you out properly that way."

You would muffle such happy, whiny moans on them. You would stroke his wrist in appreciation if he made you choke on them, complete with an adoring flush on your cheeks for him at the sudden dominance of the action, even prodding and curling your tongue around his rings.

The more intimate control you gave Aventurine, the drunker he got on it.

Your neck always looked breathtaking littered with his bruises and bite marks of passion. There was something that highlighted the beauty of those bruises more. The collar he got you, the aventurine stone in it said loud and clear who you belong to.

He loves hooking his fingers through it to guide your head, especially using it as a means to bring your mouth towards his for a kiss. Hearing the aventurine stone rattle in time with his thrusts proved how thoroughly and deeply he was fucking his cock into your clenching cunt.

Aventurine always, always enjoys indulging himself in the intimacy of deep, open mouthed kisses. One hand would be on the back of your head, holding your lips against his, teeth clicking against yours as his tongue devoured your mouth. He'll caress your cheek, or trace the shape of your jaw, deepening the kiss as he felt you melt into him. It seemed almost a shame to swallow your sweet moans, knowing you were dizzy from how his kisses stole your breath away.

It was always so easy for Aventurine to lose himself in the staggeringly intense pleasure of your tight, gummy walls squeezing around his sensitive cock. Not even gritting his teeth could abate his unabashed moans.

Another way he could justify ruining his gloves was fingering you with them on. The material provided extra sensation, pumping them to the knuckle in and out of you, deftly curling them accurately into your sweet spot.

Even better for him if he could watch them in a mirror, your back pressed against his chest. Your legs would shake as you struggled to hold them open like he commanded you to. If you looked away shyly when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror, he would make you look at yourself. "Now now, sweetheart, that just won't do," He'd purr a playful chide in your ear, his fingers wandering up to play with your nipple, "I want you to see how beautiful you look cumming on my fingers."

Aventurine could get off on hearing the lewd noises his fingers made, feeling your body twitch and shake the closer you got to cumming.

The level of intimacy that came with kissing you after he ate you out never failed to send him reeling. It was erotic for him knowing that you were tasting yourself on his mouth, tasting how good his tongue made you feel.

It was addicting when you rocked your hips up to grind against his tongue, shaky moans steadily giving way to louder ones as he kitten licked and sucked on your throbbing clit. "That's my good girl. Use my tongue to get off like the slut you are."

Aventurine had a favorite pair of handcuffs to like to use to restrain you while he fucked you. It was so satisfying to hear them jingle as you squirmed while he fucked you from behind. His cock pulsed harder between your walls seeing how defenseless you looked. How delicate, and fragile your wrists looked locked in their confines.

It always gave him extra enjoyment to loop an extra chain through the middle of them to tie to the bed with only a little slack. You would barely be able to hold yourself up on your elbows, moaning and whimpering as you felt every pulse and rub as he angled the head of his cock into your sweet spot. You were completely at his mercy, a moaning mess as you creamed on his cock.

Your juices only oozed more around his cock with each thrust keening louder, more shameless moans from you. If you got too embarrassed from you loud you sound and tried to bury your face in his pillows, he would promptly turn your head. Aventurine needed to hear how good he was fucking you.

[musicalmoritz]

What are your thoughts on the chapter 118? MitsuKou fans are eating GOOD I can say that much

My thoughts on the best chapter thus far of the current arc? I’m glad you asked

I must say this chapter launched me into a full blown Mitsukou/Soukou brainrot. I have like a million fic ideas for both of them now and there’s no way I can possibly write all of them AND complete my requests so I just have to be sad. But omg, what a chapter!! I’m still stuck on the “smothered him with attention” line, that sounds like some shit I’d write. And ofc Kou being “captivated by that loser.” Ugh they’re so in love. I am now fully convinced that Sousuke had a crush on Kou in the former timeline when he was alive, you literally cannot convince me otherwise

The fact that if Kou’s mother hadn’t died and his father wasn’t neglectful, he would’ve used his free time to befriend Sousuke…and him being the one to save Sousuke’s life in the new timeline…oh I’m ill. The finger scene. Kou’s little blush. MITSUBA TEACHING KOU HOW TO USE A CAMERA BY STANDING BEHIND HIM AND GUIDING HIS HANDS. This was their cheesy romcom moment. The dead wife montage in an action movie

I love how their former selves are trying to reach out to them. No.3 was so unhappy with his existence to the point of wanting to die, and he wanted Sousuke’s life so badly but now that he’s lost it all he wants it back. Kou learned during the Red House arc that it’s okay if life is complicated, it’s okay if he’s stressed and doesn’t have everything he wants, and now he has to see a version of himself live in blissful ignorance. I don’t understand how people can say this timeline is better unless they’re fluff addicts, them staying in this timeline would do nothing for their character arcs and the overall narrative themes of growing up and facing reality. This life may be easier, but it robs each of them of their natural growth. I understand people are gonna have different preferences but the conflict of the old timeline MADE the story, do ppl rly want all of that to be thrown away for some “and then it never happened” ending?? Do you genuinely think it would be better writing if we never saw No.3 Mitsuba again and his arc ended with another shock value death???

Sorry for the rant lol, I couldn’t help myself. Absolutely no offense to anyone who prefers this timeline, it’s not like the fans are writing the story anyways so these opinions are harmless

I love how every version of Mitsuba wants to be someone else, they each perceive themselves as the “fake one” (excluding OG Sousuke) and feel disconnected from their existence. When I get around to writing my character analyses for TBHK I WILL talk abt all the queer allegories that go along with Mitsuba’s character but for now I’ll hold my tongue. All ik is this chapter made me love Sousuke sm more

Oh, and adult Amane…jump scare of the century. I can’t wait to see what his role is in this new timeline, I have a feeling it may be similar to Baby Tsukasa in the previous one. I love whenever the Yugi twins interact with Mitsuba (yes even the angst with Tsukasa) so that scene made me cheer. Also Kou saved his boyfriend!! Yippee!!

Sousuke and Kou wanting to run away together gave me major Picture Perfect Amanene vibes. Also HKOTO vibes, pls bring back the yaoi kidnapping🙏🏻

I think that’s all I have to say, Mitsukou fans were well fed this chapter. I’m eager to see the next one, still manifesting that Kou villain arc

[mintjeru]

first encounter florist alhaitham for @viraseii 🌻 thank you for your donation to @hkvthm-action!!

open for better quality | no reposts | extensive brainrot under the cut (don't say i didn't warn you)

ok so i created an entire backstory for the two of them while i was drawing ;u; enjoy!!

kaveh and alhaitham go to the same university and kaveh, who is a year or so ahead of alhaitham, graduates at the end of this year

even though they have different majors (kaveh studies architecture, alhaitham studies linguistics), the two of them share a humanities elective course this semester

alhaitham sits in the middle or back rows and he usually arrives to lecture early so he can read his books in peace until class starts

he often sits with a notetaker in class but they're just acquaintances; alhaitham mostly keeps to himself

meanwhile, kaveh is a really proactive student so he sits in the front rows. he is often found conversing with the students around him.

as such, alhaitham knows of kaveh (the popular guy that keeps answering the professor's questions) but kaveh doesn't know of alhaitham (he doesn't really have a reason to turn around in his seat)

alhaitham lives in the area and he works part-time at his grandma's flower shop! he looked into flower language in his spare time because he liked the idea of tangible objects holding various symbolic meanings. it was similar to the signified-signifier concepts outlined in the semantics papers he read in his linguistics classes.

one day, kaveh comes strolling into the shop during alhaitham's shift because he needs flowers for a project

alhaitham mentions that they're in the same elective class and the two begin talking about the professor and their homework for that day. time flies as they're both intrigued by each other's ideas on the course concepts. by the time the next customer comes in and alhaitham is called away to help, the two walk away deeming each other an interesting conversation partner.

after that day, they begin to talk in class and spend time chatting in the flower shop

whenever kaveh comes by to buy flowers or a gift, alhaitham gives him a small flower as a bonus

it starts with a yellow tulip ("there is sunshine in your smile," it's the first thing alhaitham notices about him. he later finds that the corners of his lips tend to rise when kaveh is around.)

next is a goldenrod (encouragement, kaveh was struggling with a modeling project but alhaitham knew he was capable enough to make it work)

after that is a yellow calla lily (friendship and shared values, kaveh and alhaitham finished a group project and found out they received the highest grade in the class!)

and then a little sunflower (silent love, kaveh had fallen asleep on the library desk studying for their midterm the other night and while he would never admit it, alhaitham spent a significant amount of time admiring the way the lamplight cast a soft golden glow over his features)

at some point, kaveh asks why alhaitham keeps giving him flowers as that surely cannot be good for business. he also seems to keep picking yellow flowers.

alhaitham simply replies that it's better for the older flowers to go to kaveh, who can appreciate them, rather than for them to sit in the shop wilting. besides, they're the same color as kaveh's hair. not that alhaitham stares at the way his hair catches the sunlight or anything.

after finals are over but before the university's graduation ceremony, kaveh visits the flower shop once more

this time, alhaitham is waiting for him with a single red tulip

"this is a familiar sight. i remember the first one you gave me was yellow. are we moving on to red now?"

alhaitham responds to his question with another question: "did you know that the color of the flower affects its meaning?"

kaveh pauses for a bit. "oh, you mean in flower language? i think i've heard of that before, yeah."

alhaitham glances down at the tulip and then back up to kaveh.

most of the time, he doesn't care what others think of him. he's always been focused on his own interests and learning as much as he can, but it seems that things are different when it comes to kaveh. their relationship is fine as it is now, but why is it that he wants so badly for it to change?

it would be so easy for alhaitham to give him another excuse: the tulip matches the color of kaveh's eyes after all. but kaveh is graduating soon. he'll be moving away and given the distance, there's no telling how easy it'll be for them to keep in touch. if there's any time to bring his feelings to light, it's right now.

"so," kaveh starts. "what does a red tulip mean?"

alhaitham closes his eyes. he inhales, holds his breath for a second, and exhales. he makes his choice. when he opens his eyes again-

"a declaration of love."

kaveh stares at him, and for a second, alhaitham worries that he's made the wrong decision. but then kaveh breaks into a smile.

he reaches into his bag and carefully pulls out a red rose

"before you ask, no, i didn't buy this; it had fallen from one of the rose bushes on campus. i'm loyal to your grandma's shop, ok?" he offers the rose to alhaitham and cracks a bashful grin. "i may not be well-versed in the language of flowers, but i think this flower has a rather obvious meaning, don't you think? looks like you beat me to it."

alhaitham feels the blood rush to his ears as the two exchange flowers.

then, kaveh lifts his free hand and opens his palm. alhaitham places his hand in kaveh's, and their fingers intertwine. kaveh looks down at their hands and brushes his thumb across the top of alhaitham's. he smiles to himself.

"oh no, please don't tell me all the flowers you gave me were picked based on their meanings," kaveh sighs. "i can't believe i never thought to look them up."

alhaitham squeezes kaveh's hand and relishes in the warmth of kaveh's palm against his. "don't worry, i'll tell you starting now."

[centaurisolarflare]

König Headcannons

Someone tell me what absolute crack they’re sprinkling these masked Call of Duty men with. I’ve got major König brainrot and this got wildly out of hand, like a five-page word doc out of hand – I had to just stop because it got so long. Might do an NSFW one, lmk if you’d want that. I love you all dearly, enjoy!

- He’s really good at Tetris. Don’t ask me how or why I arrived at this conclusion, I myself have no idea. Dude just likes Tetris. It’s fast paced and demands his attention so he can usually sit still if he’s focused on the game.

- Compulsively chews the skin off his lips and the inside of his cheeks. Can’t help it. Used to bite his nails but that faded throughout his military involvement as he wears gloves pretty much all the time.

- This man has a list of things about you memorized. He covets each piece of information. He knows not only your favorite kind of tea but exactly how you like it prepared. Knows every single favorite you’ve ever mentioned – foods, flowers, books, movies, weather, what songs or types of music you’ll listen to depending on your mood, the colors you like and the colors you think you look best wearing, if you prefer gold or silver jewelry, etc. etc.

         -- Started keeping this list long before he ever actually really spoke to you with things he overheard you say. He was so worried he’d slip up and you’d think he was creepy.

- Fucking loves giving you things. Like I said, he has all your favorites memorized, so it’s easy for him to grab things when he sees them. MFer would give you a rock if it made you happy, he just loves seeing your face light up.

         -- Toward the beginning of you two, when he knew he liked you but was still too anxious and shy to really interact with you, it was so much easier for him to pack all his sentiment and feelings into the things he gave you. He could push them into your hands with maybe a word or two — sometimes literally just saying “here” or “for you”, though often it was without saying anything at all — and hope you got the intended messages of “I thought of you; this suits you; I want you to enjoy this; I care about you”.

         -- He heard you mention some obscure recently published book you wanted to read one time and he immediately began looking for it. When he found it, he bought it with an intensity that scared the bookshop owner; he nearly slammed it on the counter and shoved a handful of money at them, he was just so damn excited to be able to give it to you. And yet, he still carried it around in one of the bigger pockets on his gear for days because he was nervous to actually give it to you in person

         -- Gives you food all the time. Just appears next to you holding out something or another and vanishes before you’re even done saying thank you. You could be stationed anywhere and somehow this man has found? made? acquired? something delicious and he will be giving it to you.

- On that topic, he’s a really good cook. Like legitimately everything he even attempts to make comes out amazing. He loves when you hang out with him in the kitchen while he cooks.

         -- The first time you offered to help he was so startled he nearly dropped a knife. He comes to loves how seamlessly you two work together and move around each other in the kitchen.

         -- He gets to listen to you talk but the tasks at hand give him something to focus on and do, which makes the heat of your attention and his supplying the other half of the conversation easier to bear.

         -- Plays quiet music as he cooks, asks you for songs to put on and loves hearing you sing along as you work

         -- He loves when you hop up on the counter, you look so cute swinging your legs and watching what he’s doing.

         -- Will absolutely do the nonna thing where he swats at your hand if you try to steal something before the dish is ready but he also does the nonna thing where he’ll chop extra veggies so you can eat a few, or he’ll give you a handful of chocolate chips before using the bag. Basically, snacking is fine as long as it’s König approved snacking.

                   ---- One time, when he walked back into the kitchen to see you sneaking bites out of the pot on the stove, he reflexively swatted your backside with the dishtowel he’d had over his shoulder. He turned bright fucking red when you whipped around, shock written all over your face and the wooden spoon still in your hand. Immediately began stumbling over his words trying desperately to explain himself, god he was so fucking stupid and he felt like a chasm was opening up in his chest, until you broke out in a grin and started laughing so hard you got tears in your eyes. He was still mumbling apologies as he went to add spices to the pot, still bright red because you were leaning against his side trying to catch your breath.

         -- Loves sharing the things you make together, loves sitting down and having meals with you

         -- I also think he has a sweet tooth and he’d love it if you liked to bake

         -- While we’re talking about food, I think he really enjoys clementines for some reason. The fruit looks extra small in his hands as he takes the rind off, he’ll always pull it apart and offer you half

- Loves snow. Like kid-rushing-to-the-window loves snow. Stands outside with his head tilted back watching it fall.

- Rarely gets cold, he’s like a walking furnace.

- Trust issues af. Distanced himself from you, especially when he found himself liking you.

- Dude is big. Really big. He’s aware of that. But he never really thought about certain applications of his size; like how your hand fits in his, how your eyes shine when you look up at him, how his fingers fit around your waist/throat/wrists/thighs, how you look wearing his clothes, etc.

- You’re his first kiss and he is nearly shaking out of his own skin when it happened, but he makes up for the nerves and inexperience with hesitant enthusiasm and pure adoration.

- His phone screen is cracked. Badly.

- Good with animals, the type of person to be going about his day with a cat perching itself on his shoulder. Oddly loves waterfowl – birds like ducks and geese and swan.

- Good with kids in a quiet way. He’s a little awkward with them, they’re so unpredictable and don’t really have filters so they’re a little terrifying, but they adore him. He listens and nods as they babble, lets them hang off his arms, and gives as many piggyback rides as he’s asked for.

         -- Would love it if you were good with kids. If you were playful and indulged their imaginations, yet you took them seriously when they had questions and concerns. It’s a bittersweet thing to see you being so attentive and caring because he would have done anything for someone so kind when he was younger.

- Loves when you sit close to him and press your thigh against his, or when you stand and lean against him

- Either cannot make eye contact or stares. If you’re doing something that requires your visual attention but still talking to him, like driving, he’d be staring directly at you the whole time; until you glace at him in the passenger seat and suddenly he’s looking at anything else

         -- When he gets flustered, he tends to look upwards and trys to even out his breathing

- Speaking of driving, he absolutely says “horses” or “cows” when you pass a field of animals. Totally monotone and watches them as you pass by.

- Took him a while to get accustomed to casual touches from you, even longer for more intimate touches, but once he’s comfortable he cannot get enough. Touchstarved.

- Opens every single door for you

- Talks too fast and gets flustered when he trips over his words, which doesn’t help him speak any slower. He has poor volume regulation and either talks either way too quiet – and mumbles when he does – or way too loudly.

- He doesn’t usually stutter but it happens a lot around you. He wants so badly to talk to you but you’re so kind and pretty and his thoughts are going a million miles an hour in about four different directions, and he just ends up so nervous. He tries to say two things at once and stutters through his sentence, he tries to say one thing but abandons it half way through to say something else, repeats certain words, and of course stutters on certain letters.

         -- He’d be so so grateful if you didn’t laugh or mock him. He’s used to people finding ways to get out of talking to him, inventing reasons to cut conversations short, for a whole host of reasons – his accent, how intimidating he looks, the way he talks, the tripping up on words – and he remembers when he was younger and either no one wanted to speak to him or he’d get bullied for speaking at all.

         -- He loves that you’re patient and let him work through his sentences – and he will, because he really does want to talk to you if he could just sort his brain out.

         -- The effort you put into making him comfortable, making him feel at ease talking to you, knocks the air out of his lungs. The attention sometimes makes his anxiety flare up, but he can’t help but love your dedication to talking with him.

- On kind of the same topic, he will make noises or hand gestures to communicate. Sometimes only responds with a “hmm” or “mmhm” but he is paying rapt attention and wants you to keep talking, he just can’t make his own words work right then.  

- If you are outwardly confident, maybe even a little cocky, he eats that shit up. Winking while telling him you’ve got it, grinning after an impressive display of competence.

         -- If you speak up for him or defend him, he’ll lose his mind

- He loves playing with your hands. He’ll do it absentmindedly – rubbing circles on the back of your palm, toying with your fingers, tracing over the ridge of your knuckles – and always blushes when he realizes, no matter how many times you tell him it’s alright.

         -- If he gets more comfortable and in a relationship with you, he’ll lace your fingers together and pull your hand to his mouth so he can kiss the back of it.

         -- Also, if you put your hand on his face and hold his cheek he’ll grab your wrist – fingers wrapping all the way around it and then some – press your hand more firmly against his face, and turn his head to kiss your palm.

- Never feels like he’s allowed to touch you and will kind of linger around you until you initiate something or ask him what he needs (embarrassed as hell when you make him tell you exactly what he needs in a more NSFW context, but he loves it). Will always always always ask before touching you if he’s the one initiating. Once you do give him permission, he’s on you like a shot.

         -- Clingy as fuck. Always wants to be near you. If he can’t be next to you he’ll keep his eyes on you, you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ll look at him to find he’s already watching you.

         -- Uses his strength to his advantage when he wraps his arms around you and won’t let you get out of bed in the morning.

         -- Loves when you hug him so tight he thinks maybe you’ll crack his ribs, it feels so safe and he’ll rest his head on top of yours. I also think he’d be the type to hug so than his arms are under yours; yes, he knows it makes the whole thing less convenient because he has to lean down more, but he wants to be able to draw you in against his chest as securely as he can.

- He has stretchmarks on his arms/back/thighs from growing so much so fast. He’s really self-conscious about them.

         -- I also think as a result of growing so fast there was a period of time when he was young where he’d faint in the mornings. There’s a type of syncope that can occur during the years growth spurts happen, especially when a child grows a lot, caused by a lack of blood (oxygen) to the brain; it’ll happen especially after getting up from sleep, due to slow blood circulation, and in the shower, due to the warm temperature and humidity. He’d just space out, get black spots or narrowing vison, and pass out. Wake up quickly, maybe with a little vertigo, and be fine.

- Remembers and treasures every single complement and nice thing you’ve said to or about him. Complements and praise make him a mess.

- Can weave flower crowns.

- If you wear makeup, he loves watching you put it on. Maybe one day you’ll doll him up with it and tell him how pretty he is.

- Not fond of needles, doesn’t have any tattoos or piercings.

- Not super comfortable with PDA.

- In private, he loves kissing your forehead and the top of your head. When he’s more comfortable with you he’ll stoop over to kiss to the back of your neck, gently brushing your hair out of the way to press his lips right above the last knob of your spine.

         -- Loves kissing you when he’s sitting down and you’re straddling his lap, his thighs splayed out and you raised up on your knees to accommodate for his height, one hand on your waist and one up grasping at the back of your neck, and you kiss him filthy and tell him how good he is. He’s inexperienced so he gets overwhelmed quickly, resting his forehead on your shoulder and panting while he tries to focus on anything other than how badly he wants to pull your hips down and rut against you. He’s definitely cummed in his pants befo- *I am forcibly removed from the stage*

- Babyboy gets flustered and embarrassed so easily, has a blush than spreads down to his chest.

- Loves having inside jokes with you. Loves the side glances you shoot him, your suppressed smile, the little nudge you give him with your shoulder or elbow

         -- Loves that you two talk enough to have these jokes and references, and that you remember them. It reassures him that you enjoy talking to him.

         -- He especially, maybe selfishly, loves when someone asks about the glances and the snickering and you tell them that it’s an inside joke, that you refuse to offer any further explanation, that you want these little jokes to be yours and his alone.

- Loves when you play with his hair, lets out very contented hums when you scratch your nails over his scalp.

- Gives you massages. He’s really good at it, big hands, okay, and he’s so warm. Especially likes relieving your shoulders, back, and hands but will give diligent attention to any of your sore muscles.

- Doesn’t wear any jewelry but is absolutely the type to wear a little woven threads or beaded bracelet forever just because you gave it to him

- Because of how tall he is, he’s used to being cramped up when he sleeps so he sort of always curls up as much as he can when he sleeps, even if he has room to stretch out.

         -- If you’re near him while he’s asleep there’s a good chance he’ll wrap himself around you.

- He has so many little fun facts on an absurdly large number of topics and could ramble for hours about the subjects that particularly interest him.

         -- If you mention something you’re interested in he will do extensive research to learn about it. He wants to show you he cares and he also wants to be informed so he doesn’t make himself look like an idiot in front of you.

- Loves teaching you things, he feels more sure of himself when he’s instructing you through something he’s knowledge about.

         -- Loves being taught as well, he’s very good at following directions and always wants to impress you.

- Never forgets birthdays, anniversaries, or any other important dates. This man will remember your pets birthdays. 

[svengooliecat]

Just finished Mysterious Lotus Casebook and I totally get why it was one of the best costume cdramas of 2023. The fight scenes were fun, the bad guys each took their major character flaw/pet peeve/obsession and made it their whole personality and reason for being, the trio of main characters were delightful (I'm kind of in love with all 3 of them for all different reasons), and they ran around jianghu solving crimes. It was a murder cozy! Li Lianhua is an unholy combo of Columbo, Jessica Fletcher, Poirot, and the con artist from White Collar.

It was funny, it was heartbreaking, it gave me brainrot. The costumes were gorgeous and the hair flipping was so perfect I defy you to find a teenage girl who could do it better than Fang Duobing.

It was Word of Honor but emotionally ouchier in the best way. Must watch again. Excellent. 11/10.

[lionhanie]

beautiful stranger (park sungho)

a beautiful stranger has come to save the day!

sungho x gn!reader (college au) 

word count: 4.5k 

genre + warnings: one (1) pinch of angst, cursing, written in all lowercase, a really really really bad date (it’s a random dude dw), sungho is pining badddd!

a/n: biggest sungho brainrot in the woooorrrrld!!!!!shoutout my babygirl jas for giving me the inspo for this <3 (and beta reading as always :3) this was heavily based on beautiful stranger by laufey!  i'd suggest listening to it before/while reading ^_^

dating felt like a hassle. it wasn’t that you weren’t looking for a relationship– if anything, you were more of a hopeless romantic than anything else. pinterest boards full of couple poses you only dreamt of remaking with your partner when you finally had the opportunity to, a page in your notes app dedicated to sweet date ideas, countless playlists full of love songs you’d want to be posted to one day. instead, each failed date chipped away the hope you once held about being in love. 

it was hard to blame yourself for the disappointment you felt every time you had to restart the cycle of getting to know a potential love interest. how many times could you talk about trivial matters you’ve discussed with people who ultimately end up leaving your life? what’s your favorite color? do you have any pets? did you play any sports in high school? it was repetitive, redundant, and utterly boring, to say the least. 

living in a college town didn’t help either. college students seemed to thrive on the idea of a temporary fling– something “casual” is what they liked to call it. you, on the other hand, could not fathom the idea of love being “casual”. relationships seemed to work backwards; it was nothing like what you grew up seeing in the movies. hooking up amidst a drunken haze, waking up the next morning with fuzzy memories of the person you shared an intimate night with. only then do people decide whether or not their one-night-stands are “worth” getting to know properly. everything was so… wrong. 

coming to university made you realize that trying to perpetuate your idea of romance would be difficult, especially when nobody seemed to take anything seriously anymore. but the hopeless romantic in you would never back down– you were determined to experience something at least remotely similar to the type of love you saw on TV in your last years as a student. so here you were, all dolled up, waiting to meet a guy you’ve been talking to for the past two weeks.

you met on a dating app, having swiped right after laughing at one of his prompts. sometimes, you were ashamed to admit you even bothered making a profile, but it felt like your last resort at this point. his name was minwoo, a graphic design major just one year above you. strictly based on his profile, he seemed sweet. unlike many others you’ve seen on the app, his pictures weren’t too flashy. almost too normal, even. your conversations were surprisingly more mentally stimulating than you’d expected from a dating app, which gave you some hope. at least he was capable of talking to someone like a normal human being, right? 

minwoo asked you on a date soon after you first exchanged numbers, but schedule conflicts on both ends kept pushing it further and further away. despite all the obstacles, he still seemed interested. this was uncommon amongst the men you met on there, finding that most of them would ghost you if you weren’t willing to come see them merely days after matching. probably just losers looking for a quick hook-up. maybe this time, the dating-app gods decided it was time to give you someone good. 

you agreed to meeting him only after making sure it would take place in the middle of the day in a public location on campus, where you knew it’d be safe. minwoo didn’t seem to mind, rather going along with whatever you said without complaint. you suggested a bakery that you frequented– the location was popular among students for their cheap drinks and cozy atmosphere that made a perfect spot to settle down and study for hours. being a regular there meant you were familiar with the workers, which gave you comfort knowing you had a familiar face nearby in case the date went south. 

you’re pleased to see other familiar faces when you first walk through the bakery’s entrance– finding strangers you’ve seen before doing work on their laptops or enjoying an afternoon pastry. you got there 10 minutes earlier than your set meeting time, in an attempt to avoid an awkward meeting outside. first dates always make you nervous; not to mention the fact that this was a stranger you found on a dating app. what if you’re nothing like your pictures? will the conversations flow as well as they do through text? hell, what if you got catfished? 

you push away your thoughts, regaining your composure as you take out a compact mirror from your bag to retouch your makeup. each time the chime above the door jingled, you found yourself turning to see if it was minwoo. it was now 2:13pm, almost fifteen minutes after you agreed to meet. you place your hands neatly in your lap, observing your surroundings briefly. 

you share a fleeting moment of eye contact with a man by himself at a table by the wall, holding his page in the novel he was holding. you recognized him as another regular, having seen him occasionally when you’d stop by for a coffee. he was wearing a denim baseball hat, which covered most of his face. he gives you a small smile, but you pull your gaze away quickly. you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the fact that you were sitting alone in the middle of the store, sitting at an empty table because you refrained from ordering something before minwoo got there. 

truthfully, sungho had seen you there before. to him, you were nothing more than a beautiful stranger, one he had the pleasure of seeing more often than not when he would show up to his local bakery. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to the chance of seeing you every time he came in, sometimes even going as far to dress a little better if he felt like you’d be there that day. he was a bit shy to admit that he’d memorized your order with how often you showed up, hearing the baristas call out the drink and watching you pick it up. even he thought it was a little creepy, but it’s not like he’d ever act on his attraction, right? 

hm, maybe they’re waiting for someone? sungho thinks to himself, completely forgetting about the book he was previously reading. makes sense for someone as breathtaking as you to be in a relationship. he finds himself a bit disappointed as he sinks into his seat slightly. he’s brought out of his thoughts as the familiar bells above the door ring again, signaling a new customer. a sleazy looking guy walks in, and he watches as you perk up at the sight. that’s the guy you’re meeting? sungho’s annoyed at the way your date is dressed in sweatpants and a worn out band tee when your hair is done to perfection to match the cute outfit you had on. 

you promptly stand up as minwoo looks around the bakery for where you were, motioning for him to come over to your table. you feel a bit overdressed now that you see what he’s wearing. once he sees you, he smiles as he gives you an awkward side hug. first dates are always awkward like this, you shouldn’t mark it off as a disaster just yet. 

“it’s nice to finally meet you, yunjin!” what? 

“ah, it’s Y/N, actually.” you awkwardly laugh, hoping he was just making an off- putting joke. surely he wouldn’t get your name wrong.

“pfft, yeah i was just kidding! yunjin’s my mom’s name.” you raise your eyebrow at the comment, finding it weird to think that he’d go on a date with someone with the same name as his mother. “is this place any good?” 

“yeah! i go here a lot, actually. they make all the pastries in the back, so you know they’re gonna be tasty.” minwoo merely nods at your comment, walking over to the counter to order. you follow behind him, looking at all the cake slices on display once you get there. 

you smile at the person behind the register. they give you a quizzical look, side-eyeing the guy next to you. you were normally alone, so it was odd to see someone with you this time around. you shrug nonchalantly and hold in a giggle, glad that minwoo was too busy looking at the menu to see your interaction. 

“i’ll have an iced coffee… and get me one of those croissants over there.” minwoo orders rudely, speaking too fast for the worker to tap in the order on the screen. you watch as they frantically press buttons on the screen, waiting for them to finish before you say your regular order. 

once the barista looks up at you, you open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off. “and for you, a small caramel macchiato, right?” you beam back at them, finding it sweet to think they know your order by heart. 

“you got it! i think that’ll be it for us today, thank you!” the total shows up on the small screen in front of you, card reader lighting up as it waits for payment. you turn to look at your date, expecting him to pull out his wallet to pay, but his hands are resting firmly in his pockets as he looks around the rest of the bakery. you send a sorry look to the worker for the hold-up before you take your card from your purse and tapping it on the reader. it’s not that you cared much about who paid, but rather the fact that he didn’t even try to do so rubbed you the wrong way. 

“thank you! we’ll bring it to you once it’s done.” minwoo’s already on his way back to the table before the receipt is printed. your lips pursed as you take the piece of paper and shove it into your purse, thanking the worker once more.

sungho can’t help but notice the way you look defeated as you walk back to the table alone. maybe it isn’t your boyfriend. what kind of man makes you pay on a date? he scoots his chair a bit closer to your table, glad he was sitting somewhat close to yours. a little eavesdropping wouldn’t hurt anyone. he was just curious, that’s all. 

“sorry, i left my wallet at my dorm.” minwoo explains to you sheepishly. first, he shows up late without apology or explanation. next, you’re called the wrong name. then, he makes you pay for his order. it can only get better from here, right? 

“ah, it’s no worries!” you lie– everything he’s done so far has done nothing but raise red flags in your head, but you remain optimistic. you place your hands on the table, waiting for him to start up the conversation… except, he doesn’t. instead, he’s on his phone tapping away, presumably texting someone. it must be urgent if he needs to reply right then and there, right in front of you. 

you clear your throat, which makes him look up from his screen. “so, you’re in graphic design right?” it’s a topic you didn’t discuss much in your texts, so you felt like it would be a good way to break the ice. 

“eh, yeah. honestly, it’s kind of a joke major,” he comments dryly. his attention is entirely on his phone. 

“what made you pick it then?” you’re desperately trying to keep up the topic. 

“well, my friend said it was easy. plus, i play a lot of video games so i thought it’d be pretty cool.” he picked his major… because it was easy? minwoo continues texting away, when suddenly he scoffs at what he’s reading. “gosh, this bitch…” 

you’re completely flabbergasted at this point. “excuse me?” is he talking to you? sungho’s equally as shocked at his words, letting out a gasp when he hears what minwoo said. 

“sorry, my sister’s just asking me to pick up something on my way home.” 

“oh, i see.” now would be a good time for your drinks to arrive– you weren’t sure what to say anymore. if anything, you weren’t sure if you wanted to keep up a conversation with someone who spoke about his family in such a way. “...i thought you said you lived in the dorms, though?” 

“ah, did i? i live at home with my family.” you tilt your head at him in confusion. you were certain he said he lived in the dorms just seconds ago. it was a weird thing to lie about. why bluff about something so trivial? 

“here are your drinks!” a different worker from before comes up to your table with a tray, placing your order in the middle of the table. minwoo immediately reaches for his own, drinking from the straw before gagging at the taste. 

“hey, this is so bitter. is this how you guys normally make it?” the boy is clearly flustered, looking back and forth between you two. “there’s no way this place takes that long to make an iced coffee if it tastes like this!” you notice the way he’s struggling to answer minwoo’s outburst. 

sungho rolls his eyes. he hasn’t looked at his book in ages, finding your date far more interesting. has this douche never been to a coffee shop before?

“it’s supposed to be like that, yeah. we have sugar in the corner for customers to adjust the sweetness themselves.” the worker explains calmly, motioning to the coffee station by the garbage. he was one of the newer hires, but he resolved the situation well. 

minwoo takes his drink, clearly annoyed as he goes to add sugar. you quickly apologize for his behavior once he’s gone, and the worker gives you a face of understanding before taking the tray back to the kitchen. 

you take a sip from your own drink, finding it made to perfection, as usual. even when you first tried their iced coffee, you can’t recall it being that bad. at least, not gross enough to make a scene. glancing at your watch, you noticed it’s only been twenty minutes since minwoo arrived. it felt like you were there for hours– in the worst way possible. 

minwoo returns to his seat, seemingly satisfied with his coffee now. “i can’t believe they sell shit like this. what’s the point of buying it if i have to make it myself?” he was so… pretentious. it was annoying. 

“i mean, not everyone likes their drinks sweet, so i think it makes sense-” 

minwoo puts his hand in front of your face to shut you up. “well, i do. they should just do it right the first time.” 

you lean back, shocked at the way he nearly hit you with his movements. “it’s not like they know how your preferences.”

“jesus Y/N, you sound like my ex right now!”

“...your ex?” maybe you weren’t the most well-versed when it came to dating, but you knew better than to mention other people to the person you were currently talking to. 

“yeah, my ex was like, batshit crazy. she would always be on my ass about how often i’d go out to the bars with my friends, it was ridiculous! a guy just needs to have fun sometimes, right?” there wasn’t anything explicitly wrong with wanting to go party with your friends, but why did he need to do all that if he was in a relationship? to you, it felt like a valid thing to be angry about. if it was something severe enough for her to lash out on him like that, it must’ve been serious. you can’t find it in you to blame the poor girl, especially if she had to put up with his immaturity all the time.

you don’t have anything to say as you swirl the drink around in your cup, watching as the foam on top melts into the rest of it. this was a disaster. you should’ve known something was wrong with the way minwoo felt like an entirely different person upon meeting. he was nothing like the seemingly kind boy you were texting for the past two weeks. 

suddenly, his phone vibrates on the table. he quickly picks it up before you can see who’s calling, already out of his chair. “sorry, i need to answer this– it’s my sister. i’ll be right back.” minwoo unlocks his phone to answer, his tone much sweeter than it was when he was speaking to you. 

you watch as he walks out the door to take the call outside. suspicion brewed in your gut as you think about what just happened. earlier, he was cursing out his sister, but now he’s smiling on the phone with her? something told you it wasn’t actually his sister calling. 

sungho doesn’t know what gets into him when he finds himself springing to his feet, heading over to your table. in a time like this, he’s grateful that he managed to pick up on your name thanks to the workers. “Y/N, right? this probably isn’t my place, but are you dating that guy?”

you immediately shake your head no, almost disgusted at the thought of being in a relationship with someone like minwoo. 

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s obnoxiously loud. if the music was any quieter, everyone could hear the way he’s acting like an asshole.” your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, thankful that most of the people in there were too focused with their own business to listen in on your horrendous date. 

“yeah, he’s definitely… something. it’s my first time meeting this guy, sorry to bother you over there.” you bow your head slightly, flustered to think that you were burdening one of the regulars by bringing your no-good-date to your favorite bakery.

“it’s your first time meeting and he’s like that?” the stranger lets out a huff of disbelief. “you’re free to say no, but… do you need help? i can pretend to be your friend or something so we can get out of here.” his eyes are full of concern. you’re taken aback at the stranger’s act of kindness, but thankful nonetheless. 

“i’m alright, i think. he was a lot nicer over text, so maybe he just needs to warm up to me or something?” 

the man’s displeased with your response; he would’ve rather you walk out on the date right there. “...okay. i’m sungho, by the way. my seat’s just over there, so just give me a look if you need saving.” sungho returns to his table, looking at you before he picks up his book again and pretends to read. 

“listen, she really wants me to come home soon, so i might have to leave in an hour or so.” one more hour spent with this weirdo. you don’t think you could last another ten minutes. 

“that’s fine, i understand it’s something important!” you’re unsure how you maintain such a cheerful act when it feels like your date lied about who he was on the phone with just moments ago. 

“so, are you doing anything later?” he places his phone face down on the table before leaning back in his chair. this was the first time his attention is entirely on you, but after everything you’ve seen, you’re immediately turned off. 

“probably going to work on some papers i have coming up, i’m pretty swamped right now when it comes to my assignments.” you didn’t actually have anything urgent you needed to work on, but you didn’t want to make yourself available for whatever he was about to propose.

“that’s a shame. i was planning on going out to the new club that opened a couple streets down,” minwoo pouts at you, making you groan in disgust internally. “you’re nice and all, but i can’t help thinking about what you’d really be like once you got some alcohol in ya!” 

“oh… what’s wrong with the way i’m acting now?” 

“well, not that there’s anything bad about you, you just seem a bit… uptight! i was just saying you need to loosen up bit. maybe all that coursework has you pent up, if you know what i mean.” you shiver at his implications. minwoo places his sweaty fingers atop yours, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. you try to pull away, but he keeps his grip firm as he smirks at you. 

you quickly glance over to sungho, finding that he was already looking at you, waiting for your signal of help. you bite your lip slightly before giving him a small nod. sungho takes his hat off, finally giving you a proper look at him as he runs his hand into his hair. he’s quick to close his book and tuck it under his arm, making his way over to your table in a few long strides. 

“Y/N? what are the chances i run into you here!” he sounds genuinely happy to see an old friend, placing his palm on your shoulder reassuringly as he takes his place beside you. sungho’s so good at the bit, you’re convinced he might be an acting major. “actually, leehan said he found your lab report in the library just now. didn’t we need to turn that in yesterday?” his words are urgent as he shows you random messages on his phone. it was leehan who he was texting, but the contents of their messages weren’t remotely related to his made-up story. 

“fuck, i totally forgot about that,” you place your hand on your forehead, feigning stress over your fake lost assignment. “minwoo, it’s been really nice meeting you, but my entire grade relies on getting that report in, so i might have to leave earlier than expected…”

“oh, really? i haven’t turned in any of my assignments in weeks!” you hold yourself back from rolling your eyes; of course he was a shitty student to top it all off. he was probably on the verge of getting kicked out for his bad habits. 

“Y/N, leehan just said he needs to go to class soon, we might want to go now before he has to leave.” 

“shit, actually?” sungho nods eagerly, making it seem like you urgently need to leave. “i’m so sorry about this minwoo, i should get going.”

“okay, i’ll text you later then?” you hum in response, grabbing your belongings as sungho is practically pushing you away from the table and towards the exit. he holds the door open for you as you step outside, heading in the opposite direction of the store. 

“are you really going to text him later?” sungho’s walking beside you as you count the cracks in the sidewalk. 

you let out a pitiful laugh at the silly question. “god, no. there’s no way i’m going to be in contact with that freak any time soon.” 

“good. anyone could see he was a piece of shit.” his words stung a bit; you felt humiliated. to think that you genuinely thought minwoo might be your chance at a college romance, yet you needed to be saved by a stranger. your judge of character might be worse than you think.

you find yourself at a nearby park far away from the bakery, sitting idly at the swingset. your savior is still with you, an empty swing between you as he kicks the pebbles on the ground. you’re not sure why he’s still there, but you’re comforted by his company in the aftermath. 

why is dating so hard? you curse yourself for not seeing this outcome sooner. there really wasn’t any way you could’ve predicted minwoo would act like that– in a way, it feels like your fault. maybe you weren’t the type of person people would want to date. maybe there was no chance of you finding someone good to settle down with before you graduated. did it have to do with you? maybe it wasn’t the dating culture holding you back. you don’t know why your eyes begin to well up, but you stifle back your sniffles as a tear falls into your lap. 

sungho immediately picks up on your emotions. he doesn’t normally know what to do in situations like this, but he’s sure he wants to comfort you. ���hey, hey… are you crying?” he moves to kneel down in front of you. 

he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, offering it out to you. you quickly take it, looking away as you dab at your eyes. “fuck, this is so embarrassing.” you force out a laugh, trying to make light of the situation.

“it’s not embarrassing,” sungho pauses for a moment as he thinks about what to say. “sometimes people don’t turn out to be how you think they are.” sungho wants to slap himself for struggling to find the words he wants to tell you.

“i guess, but i’m sitting here crying in front of a stranger.” you look down at him, feeling small despite the fact that he was on the ground in front of you now.

“i’d like for us to be friends, at least.” you giggle at his comment, giving him a nod of agreement. 

“maybe this is a sign for me to give up.” your words are full of defeat. 

sungho’s confused from the lack of context. “give up?”

“give up on love. i don’t know why i thought i could find something on a dating app, for god’s sake. i guess it’s just not for me.” sungho knows whats he wants to say now. he wants to tell you you’re beautiful. he wants to tell you that you deserve to be treated well. he wants to tell you that anyone would be stupid to give up the opportunity to love you. 

he knows he shouldn’t say all that, at least not now. “would you give it one more chance? y’know, if the opportunity ever showed up.” 

“yeah, if that ever happened. i’m starting to feel like a lost cause here, sungho.” you scoff. after so many failed encounters with love, you felt like it was time for you to take a break.  “you’re acting like the right person is going to magically show up in front of me.”

there’s silence in the air between you as the leaves rustle the trees above. “this might be the worst possible time to do this, but would you let me take you out on a date, Y/N?”

...part two? (i have ideas for it already. Plz lmk if u guys GAF.)

taglist: @onedoornet @minwrlds @serejae @loserlvrss @gluion

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[toastylicious]

I've been having major luxury au brainrot today. Sorry that i messed with the colours a bit and gave him pants, he looked hella weird with his feline cheeks just out in the open in my artstyle. design by @knizuu :3

art by me !!

[nqmonarch]

Aeon Brainrot Fic Part 1

Goal: Make a yandere Aeon harem. This is part 1, introducing Aeon 1, guess who it is (it's in the tags).

Aeons can transform into human forms to like blend in and shit, they're still Aeons but they're not the size of a planet. It's like true form human form shit, not sure if that's canon (it is for Aha apparently) but it is in this story.

CW: None, but this series will probably become a yandere one later (but that's not in this part) so get attached at your own risk.

Your search history was downright concerning.

Hot Aeons near me

Would you die if you fucked an Aeon

Fuli video IPC

How to talk to an Aeon

Can you bring dead Aeons back to life

Who is Idrila

Can you date Aeons

That was okay so long as none of your coworkers knew about it. People on Herta's Space Station tended to have some weird interests but yours... they'd gone a bit far. On the bright side thanks to your knowledge of Aeons (even if it was due to unsavory desires like holding an Aeon's hand) you'd been recruited to help with the Simulated Universe.

You just weren't allowed to experience it yourself. Huge L for you. Instead you had to watch as this random space racoon ran through it all AND HOLY SHIT DID THEY JUST GET KISSED BY YAOSHI? NO FUCKING WAY!!!

"Trailblazer," You were near tears when they exited the simulation causing them to rush over to you, "How-- how could you? I thought we were friends..."

The Trailblazer looked at you nervously like a lost child as Herta let out a 'tch', "Control yourself," She turned to the trailblazer and began to brief them about Yaoshi all while you stared at the floor in despair.

"...It should've been me..." You whispered punching the floor softly and then apologizing to it, the floor didn't deserve that.

Sure you may be a minor fan of the Aeons, they were really cool, and maybe you made fanart and fanfiction of them and consumed a lot of it (the very little there was, to be honest the majority of the merch was by you) and bought all the merch even the overpriced Qlipoth merch from the IPC and maybe-- Okay you were a fan. You weren't a fanatic though it wasn't like you were stalking the Aeons or giving them gifts but... No. Your morals went against that, you were a good person who just happened to like atrocious people.

But Aeons couldn't be judged by human standards, so you couldn't say they were atrocious. But it'd be so cool-- so so cool to meet one. You at least had to try, but how?

You gave up. It was impossible to meet an Aeon of your own will, and once more you were confined to your bed of tears. You weren't able to stay in your room and cry for long though because this new researcher had taken up a hobby of annoying you. You didn't even know their name they were just always there.

You were making some work appropriate art of Tayzzyronth, a beautiful creature despite the destruction it left in its wake. You heard it'd been born out of loneliness being the last of its species-- ISN'T THAT TRAGIC?! You really wanted to hug the poor bug. But if it wasn't for that loneliness it would never be able to become the beautiful Aeon it could be, what a tragedy...

"So, whatcha doing?" An androgynous voice came from behind you, as you shot into the air, and slapped your hand over the person's eyes.

Oh it was them, you should really figure out their name, "Shit-- I thought I told you to stop sneaking up behind me?!" The panic was barely concealed in your voice as they slipped their hand up to remove your hand from their eyes.

"Damn, you suck!" They said, the audacity of this no name researcher!

You glared at them, holding your hand to your chest, "Excuse me?!"

Unfortunately for you, they took the opportunity to look at your laptop behind you, "Ooo where'd you get this photo?"

You were going to cry. Actually, maybe if you knocked them out you could convince them it was a hallucination. Well, a good punch to the head should do it! You raised your fist and punched them straight in the jaw. They stumbled back, still clearly conscious, and a light blush on their cheeks.

Maybe you should've aimed for the eyes? Eh, whatever you could just keep going until they were knocked out. You raised your hand again, maybe a good slap across the cheek would be better. It connected with a snap, leaving a red imprint on their cheek.

Fuck, they were still conscious. How were you going to explain this, actually, you should've tried this to start with.

You stared dead into the new researcher's eyes, "You were hallucinating."

Both of their cheeks were red as they blinked at you with amber eyes, once and then twice before beginning to laugh, "Ahahahahaha!" They began to clutch their stomach and you began to look around for a weapon.

You had no other choice now, "Man I really didn't think you'd do that!" They spoke elatedly, as you grabbed the monitor from your desk, they paused. "Wait what are you doing?" You raised the monitor above your head and they began to laugh hysterically again.

You paused letting out an aggrieved sigh, "Stop laughing!" What was wrong with this person?! Sure the researcher's at Herta's Space Station were weird but this one was extra weird-- actually you'd met weirder. You lowered the monitor and stared at them calculatingly.

"Aw, why'd you stop?" They teased you, leaning closer to you.

You don't think you'd be able to get away with murder. "I wasn't going to do anything." You stared blankly into their eyes and put the monitor away.

"Oh c'mon, is it because I was laughing?" They scuttled after you like a rodent, "Do it, do it!" They egged you on, "Why're you putting it away?"

You looked back at them blankly, "It was never out in the first place. You're hallucinating."

They blinked back, once, twice, "So... was I also hallucinating about the Tayzzyronth fanart you made?" This bastard. No, no if you killed someone you'd get found out. Maybe you could lure them to one of those airlocks and they could mysteriously fall out into space? Yeah, yeah, that'd be good.

But right now, you heard the steps of several researchers shit-- break must be over. You ran over to your computer closing out of your drawing program, and fifteen different tabs all relating to Aeons, then cleared your search history. You were safe another day.

Except... you stared over at the unknown researcher, "Not a fucking word."

They nodded, and you heard your coworkers enter, "Y/N, you stayed behind for lunch? Make sure to take care of yourself too," Generic coworker number one said and you nodded absentmindedly in response as the unknown researcher turned to them.

"Hey do you guys want to see this really cool art Y/--" That fucker. You ran over, slapping your hand over their mouth, and letting out a nervous laugh.

You stared at your coworkers, "Uh my... my..." fuck if only you knew this person's name, "lover,"

YOU COULD'VE SAID RESEARCHER WHY DID YOU SAY LOVER WHY WAS THAT WHAT YOUR MIND WENT TO-- NO DEAL WITH IT LATER YOU HAD TO FOCUS GET IN THE ZONE! GET IN THE FUCKING ZONE!

"Yes, my lover seems a bit tired I will uh put them to rest, please give me some time," You said letting out a small forced laugh and you heard the unnamed researcher begin to laugh from behind your hand you turned to them with a glare and whispered, "I will choke you."

With that you dragged them out of the room, keeping your hand over their mouth. Once you left the room you decided to let them breathe but instantly regretted it, "Choke me like you hate me but you love me--"

"Why are you like this?" You stared at the researcher pitifully and they only smiled at you.

"So about that fanart--" They began.

"Can you keep your mouth shut?!" Sure it was known that you studied Aeons but, your personal feelings weren't as well known. Maybe you could just write it off as research?

Somehow this lead to you and this random ass researcher whose name you still didn't know in your room late at night. In exchange for their silence you had to show them your collection, which they were now leisurely thumbing through.

"Ooo, I always felt like IX would be super cuddly if they weren't like doomed to kill whoever they were near, just the vibes," They commented offhandedly looking at some of your fanfiction.

"Right?! You get it!" You said excitedly and at their stare changing to focus on you, you immediately receded into yourself, "Why did you want to look at this anyway?"

They blinked at you, once and then twice before a smile stretched their cheeks wide, "It's funny. I've met followers of Yaoshi who worshipped the ground they stepped on like little dogs! The Annihilation Gang would've done anything for their "savior" Nanook. But..." They stared at you, cheeks rosy and excited, "to love them all with such fanaticism, even I could barely stand Tayzzyronth! They were amusing but became tiring quickly. It's just fun." They grinned at you ecstatically.

"I'm not a fanatic," You said in defense, "I can just admire the beauty of the things around me."

"Ahaha yes, yes!" They nodded at your words and then with eyes still in the shape of crescents asked, "Do you have any works of Aha by chance?"

You perked up at their sudden interested and cleared your throat, "I mean obviously, each Aeon has their own strong suit and beauty. Even one that only chases laughter with no regard of their effect on their world. There's still something so charming about it," You said seriously staring into the researcher's eyes.

They read through fanfiction, admired fanart, and then broke your piece of merch. That fucker--

"Are you asking to get hit?" Your smile was strained as they laughed before pausing.

"It's starting to get boring again," They muttered and looked at you, thinking for a moment before shrugging, "I'll be back! Don't forget me, okay?"

You stared at them blankly, "Yeah, by the way, who are you?"

"Ahahaha!" They let out a laugh as you remained emotionless, "I was..." they placed their finger to their chin and then pointed it at you, "your lover right?"

With that you watched their body disappear into a stack of cards which fluttered throughout the room. What the-- Had you been hallucinating all along?! You stared at the space where they had once been.

If it wasn't a hallucination it was someone strong, who derived joy from making people embarrassed, and wanted entertainment-- maybe a slight masochist as well based on their reaction from you hitting them? Your heart began to speed up, if they were an Aeon it would be Aha but... Aha would probably bring more chaos with them, more destroyed things.

A card landed on your cheek and you moved to brush it off, but it stuck. And then the rest of the cards began to turn to your body and glide toward it.

"What the fuck..." You stared at them for a split moment before beginning to run. Fuck-- it didn't matter who they were! No way was that an Aeon! Probably was just another asshole from your department playing a prank on you!

Why were the cards still chasing you?! Surely if you ran enough they'd stop! You raced through the space ship until you eventually reached the room that was the entrance to the simulated universe. Oh there was the trailblazer and Herta how convenient!

"Can I get some help?!" You called out and they both turned to you, unfortunately talking made you slow down a bit and--

"Mfmph..." You were a card mummy now great, at least you found someone that can help-- WERE THEY IGNORING YOU? AFTER ALL YOU DID? TRAILBLAZER NO-- YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE FRIENDS

Yandere parts won't be showing yet, they'll show later when some more Aeons are introduced (on this note I really do have to catch up with sim universe for the few crumbs of Aeons we're allowed because like 75% of this is just my delusions, but hey that's fun).

Pretty sure Aha is canonically a masochist because of the Aha doll thing. Anyway I feel like Aha would eat up someone being like romantically into not just one Aeon (like the one they worship) but literally wanting to fuck all the Aeons including Tayzyyronth which let's be honest, people aren't super big on because of the murder.

Also I feel like Aha would be into fanfiction and fanart and all that stuff? Dude would be one of those fans that leaves trolling hate comments on their favorite work but if the author stops updating they will hunt them down.

Anyway don't let that distract you from the fact you were about to murder a new researcher over seeing your Tayzzyronth fanart.

I wrote this in 2 hours on the spur of a whim

[stellocchia]

It's mushroom-picking season already and it shows. You guys are getting all of my brainrot about it! Also, I've been wanting to write something about Nightmare's henchmen getting their healing arc with the Epic Sanses for a while, so it was about time I got around to it.

Word Count: 2,049

Summary:

“We could try video games?” Epic proposed uncertainly.

Delta shook his head. “It wouldn’t go over with Cross any better than the board games did”.

“What about cooking together?” Epic tried again.

“You know food is a major trigger for Horror. I think for now it’d be better not to risk it. Besides, I already don’t trust Killer around my food, it’s not like I’d trust anyone of the others any better” Delta shot it down yet again.

Epic groaned. “Bruh… I’m out of ideas”.

Silence fell between them.

Minutes ticked by with nothing but a cough from Color here and there when marrow started clogging his throat.

But then, finally, inspiration struck. “Wait… Horror does like agriculture and foraging though. He borrowed a couple of books from me about it not too long ago” Color pointed out. His friends gave him some curious looks which prompted him to continue. “What if we bring them out for a mushroom gathering trip?"

-

or, Color manages to merge two of his biggest passions: digging in the dirt and helping people!

[sinning-23]

My First Kiss

OKAY so this is indeed a multi fandom page and I have recently been rewatching Attack on Titan so I hope you guys are ready to endure this brainrot with me :D I'll probably make a pt. 2 with the higher ups and shit-

Never fear tho i have some OPLA stuff in the works too I just haven't really finished it up...

ps. im sorry for any spelling errors I wrote this on impulse

ANYWHO enjoy!

Eren

Your first kiss was completely by accident. Didn't make it any less rendering or embarrassing. The conversation between you and the main three was getting heated, Armin making a valid point that Eren simply wasn't listening to (he was listening he's just hardheaded) and Mikasa gave her occasional input only fueling the fire.

Somehow the debate took a turn and before you knew it everyone was becoming more and more animated in their movements. You had simply turned your head a bit too quickly in the direction Eren was sitting nd coincidentally he had moved forward just enough for your lips to meet in a quick pec.

"O-Oh! I'm sorry!" You yip, immediately pressing your fingertips to the spot on your lips.

You'd never seen Eren turn so red so fast. He tried to play it off, averting his eyes as the conversation died down a bit at the awkward occurrence. He'd never admit that he was hoping for something like that to happen.

Armin

You were a bit taller than Armin, well at least when you were younger. The blond just HAD to have a growth spurt. Anyway, you had a bit of making your height different more painfully obvious. When he reached for books you often got them off the higher shelf and teased him a little before giving and handing him the hardcover he desired.

As previously stated, he just HAD to have a growth spurt. Now if was your turn to be teased. You had been reaching as best you could, the presence behind you making you stop.

The blond had grabbed the item so easily, hell you'd forgotten what you needed at this point. he looked...good from this angle, his eyes somehow darker as he looked down at you with a smile.

"I won't tease." He hums, pressing his lips to your wrist, your hand still stretched upwards before he places the item in it.

If your major crush on the blond wasn't solidified before it sure as hell was now

Connie

You and Connie were already in a relationship, more secret so as to not draw attention but god damn it was easy to see you two were a lot closer than before...and neither of you was really good at keeping a secret like this especially when the two of you always had your hands off one another.

At this point, everyone had seen you two hold hands, sneak off during training to just be in each other's presence, little stuff. The one thing that had yet to be seen was more intimate contact. And it was only because it hadn't even happened yet. You and Constance hadn't kissed yet...so when you had snuck into the boy's dorm to lay with your glorified cuddle buddy, you weren't expecting anything but that. Until he started talking to you. In whispers of course.

"Hey y/n," He began, your fingers intertwined as you faced each other, your limbs tangled with one another.

"Yeah, Connie?" You answer, throat suddenly dry when his hand rests against your hip. It wasn't like you didn't think about being more romantic with Connie, you were really just nervous, you'd never kissed anyone before and neither had he.

"Do you think we should...kiss more. I mean, you are my girlfriend, I should kiss you, right?" He asks, his eyes looking down at yours, easy to see even in the darkened room.

"Do you want to kiss me Constance?" You ask, placing you hand behind his neck, your thumb rubbing over the fuzz at the base of his neck from hs buzzcut.

There was a little hesitation but your question was answered when his lips are pressed firm against your own.

Jean

This smug bastard, he knows you like to pick fights just as much as he does. and when you pick fights with him, it's honestly his favorite thing. He loves how your eyebrows angle so far down that you have a little crease between them. He loves how you get in his face and point that well-manicured finger into his chest. He loves it when you get loud. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, but sometimes he pisses you off on purpose for just a crumb of your attention.

This particular argument was over who was supposed to clean the stables. You insist he help you but of course, he wants to fight, so he declines.

"I wasn't asking I was telling dumbasss now get up and help me." You huff, walking to him, your head angled upwards and the height difference. He only smirks and takes the opportunity to claim your lisp. The action surprised him a little bit. Since when did he get the balls to do something as bold as that. What surprised him more was when you tugged at his collard to push him away...but only doubled down and snatched him back to meet your lips again.

Yeah, if this was when he was gonna get when he pissed you off, he was gonna make it a point to do it more often.

Reiner

Honestly, you couldn't remember when you and Reiner first kissed, you two just sort of...did it and didn't stop doing it. Reiner always had some sort of scary guard dog position when he was with you and made it a point to let everyone know who was treating you like the goddess you were. So, any chance he got to show you off and show that he was totally hitting that, he did. According to him, your first kiss was right after you teo had been training all day.

You coudlt get the move down and you had been expressing your frustrationt o him. So, he offered to help you practice.

"I'll be great practive, you never know the size of your opponent so use this as a reference. Dont hold back." He insited, taking a stance as you breathe deeply.

You sprinted towards him, sliding between the bap he left between his legs. You were quick to put him in a chokehold, leaning back so that he would lose balance, and sure enough he did. You had managed to crawl from under him, positioning yourself atop him, your legs at either side of his waist as pride fills your face.

"I did it!" You celebrate, huffing in satisfaction before commigntot he realization of your current position.

"I-Wow okay sorry Reiner-" You apologize, hearing him chuckle a bit before sitting up on his forearms.

"Nah it's fine, i think i like this position though, nice work."

And before you could process the fact that your training crush had made a bit of a suggestive comment, his lips were already pressed quickly to your own.

------

Authors Note; UHHHH lemme know what all wanna see next my ask box is always open my luvs <3

[sylvan-librarian]

Nissa Revane, William Wordsworth, and Me

Introduction:

We are not isolated individuals but an interconnected web. Part of embracing green's philosophy is understanding the importance of how each of us figures into the lives of the others. Grasping the role this larger group plays is a vital piece in understanding how the world works. - Mark Rosewater: “It’s Not Easy Being Green Revisited” … Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye, and ear,—both what they half create, And what perceive; well pleased to recognise In nature and the language of the sense The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all my moral being. - William Wordsworth: “Tintern Abbey” How wonderful there should be a thing we don't yet know. - Magic Creative Team: “Renewal” 

What do Nissa Revane, elf animist who had a good run in the 2010's as Magic’s iconic green planeswalker, William Wordsworth, nineteenth century British poet and the godfather of English Romanticism, and I, a mentally ill librarian who spends all his free time playing a children’s card game, all have in common? Not much, really. I’m neither a lesbian that wields earth-shaking magic nor am I the founder of a poetic movement that English majors still fawn over. However, thankfully for me, the human experience transcends time, gender, sexual preference, and even reality. There’s a lot to learn from both fiction and poetry, and I’m nothing if not a curious student. In particular, though, I’d like to talk about transitions. 

The past couple of years for me have been packed full of constant transitions: I had an emergency move away from the city I had built a life in, I finished a master’s degree in library science, and I began the long, arduous process of changing careers. Not every transition has been so traumatic, though, as I am also now in a joyful, peaceful relationship and have finally achieved a modicum of financial stability on my own terms.

Needless to say, these transitions have had me feeling introspective (even more so than usual), and I have found myself seriously wondering about my place in the world. That probably sounds dramatic (well, if the shoe fits), but as an elder millennial who was around to witness when the first acorn fell from the first tree and the first scene boy put on girl jeans to pair with his trucker’s hat, I honestly just kind of gave up on that brand of stability at some point; after all, I was fifteen on 9/11, nineteen and living in Louisiana when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans and washed away whatever trust I had left in our institutions, and twenty-one when the Bush-era recession nailed my post-undergrad job prospects into a coffin. Of course, at the risk of sounding like I’m trying to appeal to your sense of pity, I’ll admit that today’s generation coming of age during Trump and and Covid have probably had it worse than I did and have also proven themselves much stronger and more resilient than I ever was, but nevertheless, a swirling concoction of circumstances and terrible mental health habits left me feeling for decades that I’d never have a place in the world to call many own.

All that said, in my attempt to carve out a life for myself and discover my role within my larger community, I started rereading Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Keats (the poets of English Romanticism were my favorite discovery as a literature student and some of the only writers I have carried with me beyond academia), since their poetry also dealt in themes of self-discovery, memory, and transition (also, their poetry is broody and navel-gazing - something I definitely relate with). However, as a Magic: The Gathering Vorthos with basic forest brainrot, I was also struck on this reread just how close my own experiences and the themes of the Romantic Poets mirrored how my favorite green characters from Magic fiction navigate their world. At first, I felt that this is fairly low-hanging fruit, since on the surface, themes like “finding yourself in nature,” “the rejection of social norms,” “celebrating your connections,” etc. are common enough to be found in all sorts of literature. However, the more I thought about it and connected the dots in my head, the more I realized just how much green’s themes in modern Magic fiction, particularly as expressed through Nissa Revane, helped me understand my own place in the world.

Indeed, while this essay grew out of the concept of tracing the similarities between Green Magic and Romantic Poetry (not the most riveting read for most of you, I’m sure), this particular tale kind of grew in the telling (to loot a phrase from Tolkien) until it became my own personal journal of self-discovery. If the entire m.o. of my online presence didn’t already give it away, my love of Nissa Revane - planeswalker, animist, green mage, icon - colors most of my thoughts about Magic: The Gathering, and this is no different. Compiling Nissa’s arc throughout Magic’s Story, synthesizing it with the things I love the most about the Romantic poets, and letting it stew around in my brain for the last year highlighted something of vital importance to me: the message, one that weaves its way throughout Nissa’s entire narrative, that personal growth means learning that the definitions I have held onto for my whole life - of myself, of other people, of even nature and the universe itself - are but a narrow, small part of a greater whole; that embracing healthy connection with the world around me and seeking to understand my place within it helped change parts of me that I thought were intrinsic to my very nature and helped me bloom into the best version of myself.

Part I: 

(me, trying to juggle graduate school and work)

Last year around this time, I found myself struggling. I was wrapping up my last full semester of my graduate program, failing miserably at balancing school and work, isolating myself from my friends because of how busy I was, and unhappy about living in Central Texas again after I swore I was done with the region. Throughout all of this, following Magic Story was a boon to my shocked nerves, though I rarely found time to follow it completely. It wasn’t pure joy, however, because as a result of stress mixed with the, at the time, untreated depression and anxiety, Nissa getting compleated - with “no way” of getting healed - during the “All Will Be One” story (not to mention that her tragic loss happened OFF SCREEN - the disrespect) severely bummed me out, so I tuned most the “March of the Machine” stories out to focus on wrapping up my semester. That is, I tuned it out until the final story, K. Arsenault Rivera’s “Rhythms of Life” was released in late March. Letting Chandra and a healed Nissa kiss at the end was a nice touch, but it was not for another month until we found out what happened to them after the climax of the Phyrexian stories.

When that month passed, however, on May 1, Grace P. Fong’s “She Who Breaks the World,” was released in tandem with previews for “March of the Machine: The Aftermath” products. Of course, I was going to like this story because I like Nissa and Chandra, and I have been a proponent of them being romantically involved since “Zendikar Resurgent,” but this story struck a deeper chord in me than I expected. I felt an immediate kinship with Fong’s representation of Nissa, a character who is also in a state of transition: in a place she doesn’t want to be, isolated from her friends and loved ones, and trying to redefine who she was after traumatic events left her floating listlessly throughout her world. 

The events of “All Will be One” and “March of the Machine,” after all, were Nissa’s darkest hours in a life full of dark hours. Her mind enslaved and her bodily autonomy stolen from her, Nissa was forced to do things in service to the Phyrexian matriarch Elesh Norn that horrified her. However, due to the nature of Phyrexian compleation — having her mind and body altered on a genetic level — she performed these actions in the moment with fanatical zeal, even pleasure. We are told in the first episode of the March of the Machine arc, “Triumph of the Fleshless” that Nissa “is the finest gift the Planeswalkers have given Phyrexia. Even standing at Norn's side, she can steer Realmbreaker's attention. To say nothing of her combat capabilities. If things continued at this rate she might overtake Tamiyo as Norn's favorite new servant.” Later on in “She Who Breaks the World,” while Nissa is reflecting on this, she notes that the alterations the Phyrexians made to her “granted her the ability to unleash a call through the branches of the Invasion Tree and speak the glory of Phyrexia to every plane in the Multiverse. And right now, Nissa is disgusted with herself because—despite her friends' sacrifices, despite Chandra's sacrifices—part of her misses hearing those planes.”

On the other side of these events, Nissa is mostly healed from what the Phyrexians did to her (outside of a metal cage imprisoning her chest and some scarring on her limbs where metal was grafted on), her mind is returned to her own control, and she and Chandra are finally sharing mutual love and affection instead of being mired in “will they/won’t they” hell like they had been for nearly a decade of Magic Story. However, the trauma of knowing, remembering, and feeling intimately all of the terrible things she did understandably leaves her feeling like an outcast among loved ones, and to make matters worse, she is now with a planeswalker spark, meaning she got depowered significantly and can no longer go back to her beloved Zendikar, her homeworld that she has a close intimate connection with. All this is to point out that Nissa finds herself in a spot where she has to completely redefine who she is. Nissa took great pride in being animist; now, she cannot hear the voice of the planes and her magic is basically useless. Nissa had previously discovered meaning for herself being a member of the Gatewatch: traveling the planes doing good where can and making connections with new worlds and interesting people; now, she is trapped on a plane that does not listen to her among people she very directly harmed when her mind and body were not her own. 

After a failed attempt to connect with the world of Zhalfir, Nissa begins to despair, believing that the planes have rejected her because all of the social connections she has made over the years. Nissa believes that “[s]he has spent so long connected to others that she has smothered her own connection to the Multiverse. Whether or not those bonds were made of her own volition, the planes have rejected her.” While she recognizes deep down, even if she can’t forgive herself for it just yet, that what happened while she was a Phyrexian wasn’t her fault, Nissa comes to believe that her original sin that led to this was in getting involved with the wider universe in the first place. She (and everybody who suffered from her actions as a Phyrexian) would be better off, she believes, if she had remained in her primordial, untarnished state of a champion of nature.

At this point in the narrative, Nissa’s experience reflects the way poets and writers of the Romantic Period mythologize their own world. Canadian literary critic and theorist Northrop Frye (a theorist who, truth be told, I disagree with in many respects, though his work on the Romantic Period is exhaustive and insightful) called this the “Romantic Myth.” In “A Study of English Romanticism,” Frye describes how the Romantic Myth delineates from traditional mythology:

In the older mythology the myth of creation is followed by a gigantic cyclical myth, outlined in the Bible, which begins with the fall of man, is followed by a symbolic vision of human history, under the names of Adam and Israel, and ends with the redemption of Adam and Israel by Christ. The two poles are the alienation myth of fall, the separation of man from God by sin, and the reconciling, identifying, or atoning myth of redemption which restores to man his forfeited inheritance. Translated into Romantic terms, this myth assumes a quite different shape. What corresponds to the older myth of an unfallen state, or lost paradise of Eden, is now a sense of an original identity between the individual man and nature which has been lost.

Ignoring, for a moment, the gender essentialism Frye uses, note how the lost Eden of the Romantic period was connection to nature itself. Joining society, spending precious hours having “dialogues of business, love, or strife” - all of these things are the sins that tear us away from our original, perfect self. William Wordsworth begins his “Ode: Intimations of Immortality” this way: 

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,     The earth, and every common sight,                        To me did seem                    Apparelled in celestial light,          The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;—                    Turn wheresoe'er I may,                        By night or day. The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

To the persona of Wordsworth’s poem, this sense of identity was lost in childhood; in Nissa’s head, she “smothered her own connection to the Multiverse” when she started to value her connections to other people — Chandra, the rest of the Gatewatch, Yahenni, and many others she let into her life — at the expense, apparently, of the natural world. What’s left for her except to turn back to nature and attempt to find herself again?

Part II:

(Nissa's oath to protect the life of "every plane" plays a huge role in her identity)

What does “finding herself” look like for Nissa, though? To answer that, let’s look at a few different things. Here, we’ll examine Nissa’s place as a green character in Magic’s color pie and pick apart the ludonarrative elements in Nissa’s card designs that informs how she approaches her idea of self.

Nissa is the only planeswalker of the original five Gatewatch to have cards that branch out to other colors. At heart, though, she is a green character. Even though she has some blue elements in her personality (curiosity) and black (the ambition to make her ideals reality, whatever the cost), Nissa’s heart is “green to the very door.” 

In his near ten year old article, Mark Rosewater writes this about the philosophy of Green: 

The natural order is a thing of beauty and has all the answers to life's problems. The key is learning to sit back and recognize what is right in front of you. Each individual is born with all the potential they need. The secret to a happy life is to recognize the role you were born into and then embrace it. Do what you were destined to do. The world is this elaborate system, and each one of us gets to play a part. And it's not something we have to guess about; it's imprinted on us, it's in our genes. Just look within.

It’s very easy to see Nissa in the first paragraph: even though she is a warrior out of necessity, she too craves peace and acceptance and this is revealed in one of her favorite hobbies: meditating. Nissa’s animist powers (more on that here) let her reach her consciousness into nature itself so that she can just exist among the wonders of life. Take note of this gorgeous passage near the end of “Renewal,” the last story of the Kaladesh block:

There were rivers in the air; they carried her like a mote of pollen. Great hearts were pounding in the deeps of the sky, singing slow symphonies of joy. Wordless, they expressed the sun breaking over the edge of clouds; the sharpness of stars over frosted peaks; the awareness of a new life growing within, nestled and patient, waiting for its first breath of radiance. She drifted bodiless among the singers, listening. Back and forth they called, echoing across cloud and current, composing shared dreams of weightlessness, rain, and memory. An eye the size of a house blinked. Radiant curiosity washed over her, like the return of sunlight from beyond the edge of all things. There is something new in our sky, it sang in language of sensation and vibrance; quickened heartbeats and quivering muscle; caught breath and a hundred shades of blue. How wonderful there should be a thing we don't yet know.

Nissa is an expert at recognizing “what is right in front of you,” though due to her connection to nature, “right in front of you” could mean just about anywhere on the plane itself. 

To cycle back to Rosewater’s statement, however, it’s important to take consideration of the fact that a green character does not just treat the wonders of the natural world as a conduit for inner peace, they also believe that the “secret to a happy life is to recognize the role you were born into and then embrace it. Do what you were destined to do.” What does Nissa believe the role she was born into is? What drives her throughout much of Magic’s narrative?

To put it simply, Nissa believes that she is the champion of nature itself, the chosen one of Zendikar’s worldsoul. Whenever she planeswalks to a new world, she adopts the worldsoul of the plane as her own; the first thing she usually does when touching down on new earth is to attempt to connect with the soul of the plane. Throughout whichever story arc she takes part in, she usually comes to see herself as the voice of that particular world and acts as its champion as well.

Let’s take a look at the second Innistrad block, for example. Even though her role in this story is quite small, this template still applies. Jace, after unraveling the mystery of what was happening on Innistrad, goes back to Zendikar to fetch the rest of the Gatewatch to help stop the rise of Emrakul. As she planeswalks to the battlefield, the “hill rumbled slightly, the only herald of Nissa's arrival. She frowned as she knelt down, placing her palm against the ground. ‘The mana here is dark. Twisted. It's in the soil, the trees...Emrakul did some of this, but’…‘This is your first time to Innistrad, right? “Dark and twisted” is kind of a regular feature,’ Jace continued.” 

Presumably at some point later on in the story, on the flavor text on the card Splendid Reclamation, Nissa says “No matter how much a plane has suffered, there is a way to restore it." Of course, this line appears nowhere in the story, but there has always been a conflict between what has been written in Magic fiction versus what is printed on the cards. Furthermore, it’s possible that this card was a bottom-up design with the mechanics designed first and Nissa pasted on later since there wasn’t another “green character who cares about lands” present during the battle against Emrakul. Either way, Nissa comes across as a character who sees herself as the champion of nature.

Nearly all other stories Nissa takes part in give her a similar arc. In "Amonkhet," she is the first to identify just how sick and distorted the world had become under Bolas’s influence, and after a trial with the ibis god Kefnet, she ends up believing that she set herself up as a rival to Bolas, able to manipulate the leylines and the gods attached to them just as efficiently as the dragon. During :War of the Spark," in a move that would earn her the disgust of the Selesnya guild, she animates Vito-Ghazi, the home of Ravnica’s worldsoul Mat'Selesnya, in order to fight against Bolas and the zombified gods. In "Zendikar Rising," Nissa’s journey takes front and center, with her conflict with Nahiri ending with Nissa as the one true savior and liberator of Zendikar. Her brief stint during the "Brothers' War" side stories end with Nissa swearing an oath to Gaea, the worldsoul of Dominaria, to personally destroy the Phyrexians herself, no matter the cost. 

Even while she was a Phyrexian during “All Will Be One” and “March of the Machine” and her mind not her own, Nissa follows a similar arc, though a twisted variation: after her capture and transformation, Nissa becomes the voice of Phyrexia, as the card All Will Be One showcases, proclaiming the plane’s glory and, through manipulating Realmbreaker (likely the single largest and most powerful living thing in existence at the time), sending “Phyrexian perfection coursing across the Multiverse.”

You can certainly see Nissa’s confidence in her station as the champion of worldsouls multiverse-wide in her cards: “Nissa, Voice of Zendikar,” “Nissa, Who Shakes the World,” “Nissa, Ascended Animist,” etc. All of these designs showcase Nissa’s might as a master of land magic. Loyalty abilities on these cards almost always animate a land into a creature that can then fight alongside her. The most powerful variation of this ability was on “Nissa, Who Shakes the World”:

On a narrative level, however, what these abilities showcase is that Nissa during this era saw herself as less a friend to nature than a master of it.

Fast forward to the aftermath of the Phyrexian invasion and Nissa is in a much different place mentally, emotionally, and even physically. As Nissa struggles to (literally) bury the physical remnants of what the Phyrexians did to her body, she feels an immense sense of loss that stems from more than just guilt. Fong describes it this way:

[Nissa] felt cut off, lost in the Multiverse with no voice calling her home. Maybe no plane would hear her ever again. They'd all lost their sparks, but only Nissa still wanted to planeswalk. Even if her friends seemed to be moving on without her, she still cared about their happiness. So not wanting to bring down the spirits of their celebration, she excused herself.

I recall seeing a few half-hearted takes on social media after this story was released expressing frustration that Nissa spent so much time in this narrative grappling with the harm that was done to her rather than acknowledging guilt for the harm she inadvertently did to others. First of all, she clearly does feel guilt for the harm Norn wrought through her:

[Her] copper skeleton is covered in mangled spikes, and those spikes are covered in the dried blood of her friends. She rubs one, and dark residue flakes off on her fingertips. She wonders whose blood it was. Maybe Koth? Maybe Wrenn? Maybe Chandra? Chandra. She had hurt Chandra, almost killed her.

Secondly, exploring Nissa as a green character shows us that Nissa has lived her life believing firmly that she was alive for a purpose: to be the voice of nature and act as its most ardent champion. However, now worldsouls won’t speak to her and her magic barely works at all. Her spirituality that drives her and her magical might that allows her to act in service of that spirituality have been unceremoniously ripped away from her. Everything Nissa has ever believed about herself has come dramatically (and traumatically) crashing down.

Nissa is a character whose entire system of beliefs has now been obliterated by her experiences, and as mentioned in the previous sections, she believes it was because her original mistake was in seeking her identity in her relationships with people rather than with her relationship with nature.

I asked at the end of part one, what’s left for Nissa except to turn back to nature and attempt to find herself again? Perhaps, however, a more apt question to ask is what’s left for Nissa at all? Yes, she and Chandra are (mostly) on the same page about their feelings for one another and yes, she is alive and physically healthy (though weakened and scarred), but notice that even if Nissa despairs about what she has lost, she shows little desire to go “back” to nature. Even though she believes with absolute certainty that “the planes have rejected her,” she stays true to her duty as one of the stronger warriors left among the surviving Mirrans; when faced with decision to either explore the brand new omenpath or to help the survivors, Fong writes, “as much as Nissa loathes to abandon the portal, she knows Koth is right. As much as the war took from her, others have lost even more. They need to help first.”

Though separated by over two-hundred years and in different genres altogether, what Nissa is going through reminds me of what Wordsworth writes in “Tintern Abbey”:

I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, Wherever nature led: more like a man Flying from something that he dreads, than one Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all.—I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.—That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more.

You see, Wordsworth — like Nissa, like me, and probably like you at some point in your life — found himself in the late 1700’s grieving a deep sense of loss as everything he believed in came crashing down around him. Spellbound by the fervor of Revolution-era France, he lived on the continent for years and had a child with a woman he fell in love with there, but France’s tense political relations with his home country and the Revolution descending into the Reign of Terror forced him to return to Britain. Witnessing what he saw as his utopian beliefs plummet to irredeemable violence utterly broke him (on a personal note, I likely have a different view than Wordsworth on the merits of putting aristocrats to the guillotine, but that’s another essay entirely), and — like Nissa, like most of us — had to rebuild himself from the ground up.

What a relatable human story, right? As someone who is closer to forty than he is thirty, I have stumbled upon this crossroads multiple times in my life. Years ago, it involved disentangling myself from my evangelical upbringing and accepting the fact that, though my parents and (just to give them the benefit of the doubt) many of the religious adults who helped raise me had my best intentions in mind, instructing an impressionable, vulnerable, and anxious child that deep down in the center of his being he is evil and deserves eternal torment for the crime of being born was pretty fucked up. It took years of therapy, medication, and daily affirmations to finally feel good about myself. More recently, as alluded to, going through a tough breakup, wrapping up a master’s degree, and beginning the process of changing careers all within the span of roughly two years left me scrambling in my pursuit to create a new self to be a better fit for my new circumstances.

What choices did I make at this crossroads? What about Nissa or Wordsworth?

Part III:

The answer to that question is that the three of us (Nissa, Wordsworth, and I) all came to similar conclusions. This answer is two-fold, and I hope you’re not expecting some life-altering nugget of wisdom here, because — true to the heart of a green mage — the first lesson we learned is, quite simply, the art of acceptance: acceptance of the world that is, not the world that was or the future world our anxiety creates in our mind. Rosewater writes,

Green wants acceptance.

The other colors are all focused on how they'd change the world to make it better. Green is the one color that doesn't want to change the world, because green is convinced that the world already got everything right. 

There is, of course, something to be said for improving your circumstances — especially if the environment around you is toxic — and the relentless ambition to mold your life into one you are happy with, but in Nissa’s case, what she needed most was to accept that she was living in a different world than was previously. Bereft of the planeswalker spark that gave her a sense of purpose and traumatized by remembering what she did when her body and mind were being puppeted by the Phyrexians, Nissa finally comes to understand and acknowledge her new place in her new world. 

Early on in Fong’s “She Who Breaks the World,” Nissa attempts to connect her soul to the leylines of Zhalfir, but instead of basking in the orchestra of the planes, the music is drowned in all of the other songs that have influenced her, her tune “muffled by dozens of new, alien voices she recognizes and despises: the Eldrazi, Bolas, and finally, loudest, Phyrexia.” This leads to her belief that was discussed previously that her original sin was embracing human connection instead of remaining the voice of Zendikar’s worldsoul. 

However, at the climax of the story, Nissa shares this struggle with Chandra when the two of them are trying to fight their way out of an impossible situation. A wild, out-of-control storm elemental was threatening the Mirran survivors of the Phyrexian invasion, and Nissa and Chandra were defending the populace against it. However, the two of them are not working well together, and the elemental manages to capitalize on their poor tactics and absorbs copious amounts of steam arising from a burnt baobab tree to become a colossal being whose head caresses the sky. After they get trapped in a hole with no way out, Chandra suggests a plan of attack reminiscent of the channel-fireball combo the two of them used to destroy Ulamog and Kozilek all the way back in “Oath of the Gatewatch,” and Nissa finally admits to Chandra that her magic no longer works and expresses her deep anxieties about why: “‘it's like my voice isn't my own,’” she admits. “‘Like it belongs to Phyrexia instead, like everything I've ever connected to is drowning me out.’”

Chandra, however, does not see it that way. Choosing, for once, to think before she talks (a skill she no doubt learned from her years around Nissa), eventually concludes “‘you know … you have good connections, too.’” She continues:

‘It's true—you did bad things while they had you. But everyone you've connected with over the years with the Gatewatch, we're just happy you're still here. With us.’ Chandra sets fire to a chunk of moist dirt that was about to fall on Nissa, turning it into a soft rain of ash. ‘With me.’ For the first time since she awoke in Zhalfir, Nissa smiles. Chandra, sweet Chandra, even if she doesn't realize it, has always understood and explained emotions better than Nissa ever could. Chandra continues, ‘Your connections aren't drowning your voice, Nissa. They're changing it into something new, maybe something even more powerful. Infinite voices, infinite possibilities, right?’

What Nissa needed was not to perform some kind dramatic penance or to reject society for asceticism once again but to simply accept that the world around her had changed, that she had changed. This fact is hammered home by the next section: agreeing to try connecting to Zhalfir’s worldsoul again, 

Nissa closes her eyes. She retreats inward and listens for her inner voice. It's hard, much harder than before, but Chandra is dutifully helping her concentrate, blasting the falling rock away before it can reach her. Nissa is greeted by ringing deep in her ears, but she refuses to be deterred. With her connections in mind, she picks the static apart into unique melodies, the individual songs she picked up from all around the Multiverse. She arranges them, harmonizes them, and this time, when she calls to Zhalfir, her voice is amplified in chorus. She offers an apology. The plane answers. It too was cut off from everything it knew, from the connections it had made. It, too, was scarred by Phyrexia and is growing into something new. It forgives her, and Nissa can finally forgive herself. Magic floods her flesh, her blood, her bone. She hears Chandra laugh, delighted by their success.

It’s only through accepting that her life now is different from what is used to be, through confessing that her priorities had changed, through acknowledging that presence of others in her life had made her stronger, and most importantly, through forgiving herself for what’s she did when her mind wasn’t her own that Nissa is able to reconnect to the source of her magic and her joy. 

Nissa learns to reinterpret her world in a new way. This can be seen in mechanical elements as well. Most of Nissa’s planeswalker cards have her manipulating lands, either by animating them into creatures to be controlled or by fetching them from the library. Nissa, Resurgent Animist, however - the first time she has been printed as a creature since the flip-walkers of 2015 - does not do any of those things. The text on this card reads:

Landfall — Whenever a land enters the battlefield under your control, add one mana of any color. Then if this is the second time this ability has resolved this turn, reveal cards from the top of your library until you reveal an Elf or Elemental card. Put that card into your hand and the rest on the bottom of your library in a random order.

The act of playing a land during the narrative of a game of Magic is the act of a planeswalker establishing a mana bond with a certain place in the multiverse. ‘Mana bond’ is a term almost never used in Magic fiction anymore, but as far as I know, it has not been retconned either. Even if not explicitly stated, there are nods to the act of creating mana bonds throughout the tie-in fiction. Look at this section from “Nissa’s Origin: Home,” for example:

As they picked their way deeper into the marshland, Nissa formed a connection with it. She saw the beauty in the moss-laden trees, felt the magic in the mists that rose up from the brackish waters, and swayed to the song of the swarms of lion flies that circled them. She never would have believed a bog had so much to offer.

In the narrative of a game, this paragraph would simply read “Nissa plays a swamp.” Explicit or not, establishing a mana bond with a particular piece of geography means that the planeswalker can, among other things, draw mana from that place no matter where in the multiverse they are. This is why, flavorfully, a player can play Ravnica shock lands alongside Tarkir fetch lands: in the narrative of a game, your planeswalker avatar has gone to these places and forged a bond with those pieces of land.

To cycle back to the card, however, instead of manipulating the land itself, having Nissa, Resurgent Animist alongside the player allows them to, firstly, hypercharge their link to the lands they play, giving the player extra mana for the act of forming connections with lands. Secondly, the player forming connections with as many lands as possible in a single turn (two in this case) allows Nissa to discover other creatures to fight alongside them. Instead of being the champion of all nature, Nissa now fights alongside nature as an ally rather than a general. This makes it all the more fitting that according to the “Aftermath Set Design” article published last year, the original name for this card during the design process was “Nissa, Friend to Nature.”

The journey Nissa goes on lets her reinterpret herself from champion to friend, but celebrating things others consider dark and reinterpreting the world in a way to showcase its beauty was close to the heart of many Romantic Poets as well. In “To Autumn,” John Keats celebrates the season of change, a season so often characterized as a time of preparation and vigilance for the coming winter. Keats writes,

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?    Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,— While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,    And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn    Among the river sallows, borne aloft       Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies

Keats argues that we should not characterize an entire season through the lens of humanity. Instead of pining for spring, we should live in the moment and appreciate what fall offers us. Similarly, Nissa learns to appreciate the current, sparkless season of her life with Chandra instead pining for the life that was.

Keats again argues this in “Ode to a Nightingale”; a creature poets often infuse with sadness is only that way, he argues, because of how it is interpreted:

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!          No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard          In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path          Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,                 She stood in tears amid the alien corn

 “Thou wast not born for death,” Keats writes, meaning that the nightingale is not infused with sadness by nature, but only because that’s the emotion humans have assigned to it. Nissa too learns to stop infusing her world with despair by labeling herself as powerless, damaged, and guilty, instead choosing to enjoy the moment she is in.

It is through accepting that age and experience has changed how he views the world that Wordsworth also is able to move forward. Instead of treating nature as his “all in all,” he writes,

For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes The still sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.—And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man

Instead of nature being the only thing in his life, nature is now simply one of the important things in his life, a feeling too that Nissa wrestles with. Instead of hearing only the song of the leylines, the worldsoul’s tune is now just one of many melodies she sings.

Acceptance is a song I too have been singing. As a staunch leftist, living in Central Texas is not particularly suited to me, and I have left here once before. Swearing never to move back, I moved away in the 2010’s for a relationship with a woman that ended up failing some years later. Financially desperate, broken emotionally, in the middle of a graduate degree, and not having anywhere else to go, I moved back to Waco to live cheaply, wrap up my online library science degree, and re-constitute my support network. It was not easy reacclimating to life here. Though I love the people I know in the area, I felt then and still feel now haunted by the ghosts of old memories, all of which had become flavored by loss. After I finished my degree in mid-2023, it did not get much better; even though I’d become ambitious and committed to looking for work elsewhere, the job market for librarians kept me here (entry-salary positions asking for five years of experience and all that). Note that for as much as change scares me, I had dared to face those fears and dared to dream only for it to come to nothing - not an uncommon story these days, I’m afraid.

Now, however, I’m working at the public library in Temple, Texas (close enough to Waco to commute) and settled myself down for the time being. Composing a new rhythm for my life has drastically helped heal the damage that almost three years of rejection, chaos, instability, depression, and anxiety wreaked on me, but that journey began, I think, with acceptance. I’m not currently where I want to end up, but despite what my anxiety and self-doubt tell me, that’s okay. I had to accept that this is where I am at in my life right now, confess that my ambitious priorities were probably going to be achieved at a much slower rate than I had hoped, acknowledge that people in my life made me stronger, and most importantly, forgive myself for the many mistakes I made over the past three years. Only then was I able to truly move forward. 

The second lesson we all learned was to embrace connection with people in our lives rather than reject it. In Nissa’s case, as previously alluded to, part of the process of accepting where she is at in life involved understanding that becoming part of the Gatewatch pursuing romance with Chandra had made her better and happier than she had been before. Once that hurdle was crossed, Nissa was able to come to terms with just how different Chandra is from Nissa in how she thinks, feels, and loves. Chandra tells Nissa:

I realized I can't just burn through any relationship I care about. Love leaves room for the other person to be who they are. I have to make room for you, too. I want to." "Like fire needs oxygen . . ." Nissa asks her final question. "You have room for someone who can't planeswalk?" "Yes. I'll make it. I will falter, I will be tempted, but I will make it. Fire's going to burn, no matter what you do, but you can shape it if you try. And I want to try. For you." Nissa thinks for a moment. Finally, she nods. "I can handle that."

Later on, Nissa describes the omenpath she ran into earlier:

“I think I can still hear Zendikar out there, strange and distorted, but possibly still out there. I could just be imagining it completely, but I think I would risk that unknown to see home again." Chandra nods firmly. "And I'll be walking right alongside you." Every Planeswalker can go anywhere they want, but Nissa recognizes Chandra's need to roam runs deeper than that. It's part of who she is, and part of what Nissa loves. So Nissa offers, "Maybe, after that, I wouldn't mind seeing more. As long as it's with you." Chandra breaks into a wide smile. "Let me be your torch, then.”

Compromise is an important part of any relationship, and through embracing change in her life rather than running from it, Nissa is finally able to compromise with Chandra in a way that should fulfill both them - something Nissa has clearly wanted since at least the Kaladesh arc (though I would argue these feelings began long before that). Pursuing connection and intimacy with Chandra at this crossroads allows Nissa to blossom into a much happier and more self-actualized character than she has been in Magic fiction so far. Once, back in “Renewal,” the last story of the “Aether Revolt” arc, Nissa - deep in meditation and basking in her connection with the worldsoul of Kaladesh - watches the birth of a new aetherborn and ponders:

How could she tell this new life to laugh and weep without reservation or regret; to sing to the stars and waters, or to nothing at all; to love unreserved and unguarded; to treasure every moment with those beloved; to forgive any regretted trespass; to dance when moved to; to savor long silences in warm company; to greet each dawn, each face with the thought, this will be an adventure; to be brave, and kind, and trusting, and... ...like Chandra.

Years later, Nissa has finally learned to be more like Chandra, and she is better for it.

For his part, Wordsworth famously had a great relationship with his sister Dorothy, and part of the change he embraces throughout “Tintern Abbey” involves reclaiming himself through her:

…in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear, dear Sister! 

Earlier in the poem, Wordsworth lamented that he could not “paint / What then I was.” In this passage, Wordsworth finally finds himself again through communion with his oldest and dearest friend.

As for me, I’m in a happy romantic relationship again after years of trying to rebuild myself. Additionally I've made friends with people I wanted to meet, and I’ve managed to carve out a small niche for myself in my own small corner of the world: I realized last summer that I thought about Magic: The Gathering in a much different way than many of my local friends do. As a game that occupies much of my social life and possibly more of my internal life, I searched for an outlet for these thoughts, and that led me here, where I’ve made good friends and joined an online community that I once looked at from afar. If you’re reading this, thanks! I’m happy to be here and to know you.

Conclusion

Relearning ourselves, redefining ourselves, and finding a place for ourselves is a journey most of us must embark, whether of our own volition or not. I’m certainly not a master of this process, so I’d like to leave you with the following thoughts:

One of the more, well, magical things about Magic The Gathering’s tie-in fiction is the fact that you could put just about any character from across the entire history of the game into a random number (character?) generator and the character that gets selected will be near and dear to some Magic player’s heart. In a game as wide and varied as Magic, there is a massive range of experiences portrayed throughout the stories that someone will personally identify with. I’ve seen communities big and small form around fans’ shared love of popular characters like Liliana, Vraska, Oko, and the entire concept of Phyrexians, but also less commonly known characters like Kallist Rhoka (who doesn’t even have a card) and less commonly liked characters (if we’re using loud people on the internet as a gauge) like Jace, Nahiri, and yes, even Nissa.

The biggest lesson I learned from my time as an English major (whether my professors meant for me to learn that is another thing entirely) was that there is no such thing as good and bad literature; there is just literature. Magic story has varied in quality drastically over the years, but one of my main reasons for writing this piece is to emphasize that Magic fiction has a place in the world of literature. It’s not likely to be studied by English students decades from now, but that says nothing about its ability to delight, upset, soothe, and even instruct those of us who enjoy it.

As for myself, I’m eternally grateful to writers who have picked up the task of writing Nissa over the years, because even when she is written poorly (ignoring that one instance where her characterization was butchered beyond recognition), I see much of myself reflected in her deep sense of conviction, in her struggle to express true feelings to people she loves, in her obsessive loyalty to those she lets into her life, in her adoration of the natural world, and even in her love of music. More specifically, I’m especially grateful to Fong and the story team behind “March of the Machine: The Aftermath” for giving me exactly the right Nissa story for exactly the right time in my life.

Whichever omenpath you personally are crossing through, I hope that you find what you need to come out of the other side of it happy, healthy, and ready for the next adventure.

References

Davidson, Nik. (2016). Battle of Thraben. 

Fong, Grace P. (2023). She Who Breaks the World. 

Frye, Northrop. (1968). A Study of English Romanticism.

Humphreys, Dave. (2023). Leading March of the Machine: The Aftermath Set Design 

Keats, John. (1819). Ode to a Nightingale.

Keats, John. (1820). To Autumn.

Kreines, Kimberly J. (2015). Nissa's Origin: Home.

Magic Creative Team. (2017). Renewal. 

Rivera, K. Arsenault. (2023). March of the Machine | Episode 1: Triumph of the Fleshless. 

Rosewater, Mark. (2015). It's Not Easy Being Green Revisited. 

Wordsworth, William. (1798). Lines Written (or Composed) a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour, July 13, 1798. 

Wordsworth, William. (1807). Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.