#move beyond and start to process and come to terms with it

[nellasbookplanet]

Downfall has only just started, but already I'm deeply curious what Bells Hells reaction will be to seeing it play out. I've mentioned before that I suspect the dislike or outright disdain some of the party feels for the gods - most notably Ashton and Laudna, but also Imogen at times - is in part a product of the gods being so distant as to not feel like real people to them, and therefore being easy scapegoats.

It’s easy to see the mortal victims of Ludinus and the Vanguard as just that: victims. The Hells have met them, have been them. They have not seen or felt the gods suffer in the same way. Laudna even went so far as to blame the gods for mortal deaths and suffering after the solstice, even as the gods are the ones under attack. They feel uniquely abandoned by the world, and it's easy to blame these distant, powerful figures for their hardship. Certainly much easier than to see the mortal systems that enabled their harm, or to actively seek improvement on their own.

But to see the gods now, not just as people but as mortals, with all the flaws and vulnerabilities and fears of any of the Hells, with loved ones of their own and the same desperate sense of self-preservation as any living thing, will they be able to hold onto the disdain that they’ve clung to for so long?

[torusdove]

Med-student!Satoru who comes home late after spending the entire day cramming for his upcoming exam.

Don't get me wrong; he is insanely smart, and he doesn't need a lot of time to progress and understand the given material. He does, however, want to get to the bottom of things, understanding them beyond whatever the professor had taught them.

He took pleasure into understanding and getting down to a t about the different concepts. It's no surprise that he loves the complexity of neurology, neoplasia and the immune system.

However, something as simple as anatomy has had his heart ever since the beginning of his degree. Especially because it was something he could share with you.

—

"Nd this," he had whispered out, index finger softly pushing down on the little slope that was right between your collarbones, "this is what we call the manubrium. It's the first part of your sternum."

Satoru had learnt this in his first year, remembering the very few classes he had gotten about anatomy in the first quarter. How he had practiced on Suguru's chest to find the manubriosternal joint.

Now, he was trying to find it on you.

His finger trailed a little more downwards, just above the cleavage of your breasts, "then there is a thin line in between the first part, the manubrium, and the middle part, which we call the corpus of the sternum."

This wasn't the first time Satoru had laid in your sheets, hand resting in the palm of his hand, which he held up by leaning on his elbow in bed, half his body turned to you. You had loved it from the very first time he had started doing it. It felt intimate, and yet so meaningful.

Satoru chose your body to describe something he had an interest in, something he wanted to pursue a career in. He explained it in simple terms, making sure you could always follow along and understand what he was saying or illustrating.

"The thin line is known as the manubriosternal joint, an identification mark for doctors to find the second costa, which is latin for rib, as it is immediately attached to the manubriosternal joint." You could feel how his finger would move a little more tot the right, in search of your second rib. Once he could feel the bone underneath his fingertip, he smiled softly before going back to the very middle, trailing downwards in between your breasts.

When it fell right underneath your costal arch, you felt your breath hitch in your throat, eying his face, only to find his eyes completely focused on his fingertip, "The xiphoid process is the last part of your sternum, divided from the corpus by the xiphisternal joint."

You knew exactly what would happen next, already opening your arms widely to let him settle his head on top of your chest, right on the apex of your heart.

"To listen to your heartbeat," he had admitted once, after a very long day at his univeristy.

So, without keeping him up any longer to make sure he'd be rested for tomorrow, you had placed your lips against his temple, murmuring his favourite sentence against his soft skin, "I love you, 'toru."

[earthtooz]

in which: a moment of impulsivity has ratio knocking on your door at 3 am with a grand confession.

There is a great cloud of curiosity that surrounds Dr. Ratio.

His intelligence is far beyond the average person’s comprehension, mind working at insurmountable speeds to reach conclusions and answers that no others have come to before. Mediocrity and Ratio could never stand to be in the same room, intelligence and reputation as an academic preceding him.

When people find out that you have been in a long-term relationship with the scholar, you can almost see the question mark above their heads. How did you meet? When did you start dating? How did you start dating? How do you put up with him? (You always answer that with ‘I’m still trying to find out myself’. He always rolls his eyes when you say that, but it’s nothing a kiss to the cheek can’t solve.) 

Only your closest friends know the story of how you started dating, but it’s always one you love recounting, much to the dismay of Veritas. 

For the decades that he has lived for, there have been few moments he regrets, always critically scrutinising every move six steps before he makes them. No one has ever seen him messy, uncertain, or dishevelled- except you. 

Towards the end of your university years, with an urgent final assignment due soon, you’re rudely awoken one night by frantic knocks on your dorm’s door. You notice the clock reads 3 am, and since the knocks only got louder by the second, you throw your covers off with a groan.

Who could be at your door at 3 am? Perhaps a drunk dormmate who forgot their keys? Or someone knocking thinking it was their room?

Looking through the peephole, you’re stunned to see a certain violet-haired friend on the other side, trouble etched deeply into his features. His hair was messy, falling haphazardly around his face, and his usual accessory of a laurel wreath was discarded, flamboyant outfit discarded for something more comfortable. 

It’s clear that he’s troubled by something, but you have half a mind to leave him outside until he goes away (that’s what he’d do to you, or so you think).

Opening the door, you begin by scolding him. “You better have a good reason to show up at this godforsaken time or otherwise-”

“-I’m in love with you.” 

Perhaps if it were a normal hour of the day, and if you hadn’t just been rudely awaken from your sleep, you would have processed his words faster. Instead, you blink at him once, twice, three times, fatigue weighing heavily on your features as you struggled to keep your eyes open. 

“What?” You murmur, shaking your head as if that would clear up the mental blockage.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, firmer this time. 

You grab his wrist and drag him inside your dorm, blinded by the harshness of the hallway lights illuminating the outline of his figure. Turning on the softer light on your desk, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, gazing down at your hands. Veritas, however, stays near your door, annoyingly muscular arms flexed over his chest.

“I have so many questions,” you grumble, rubbing your eyes. “Why are you awake? You’re always asleep by 11 to get your ass up at 6 to exercise, or whatever.” 

“Are you avoiding the main point, or just stupid?” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “I love you.” 

“Excuse me! You were banging bullets on my dorm room, I’m disorientated right now, not stupid- what?”

It’s almost like his statement from earlier only pierces through your brain now with the way you freeze, eyes morphing into something akin to disbelief and shock. He sees all the changes in your expression in the dimness of the room, nervously biting his cheek with every subtle shift.

“Did… I hear that right?” You whisper after what feels like an eternity. “You love me?”

He nods. “For a few years now.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Am I not doing so in this very moment?” 

Tonight has been nothing but agitating for him. First, he was kept awake by the pounding of his heart and the burning desire to see you, significantly delaying his sleep until Veritas decided to cast all caution into the wind, running to your dorm all the way on the other side of the University. Now, he is trying to pour his heart onto your hands, all because of a moment of impulsivity and bull-headed stubbornness, and a secret he cannot keep to himself any longer.

He may be stubborn (as are all geniuses), but Veritas is never impulsive. All truths will come to light eventually, no matter how hard he tries to hide them. 

“While I accept that my feelings may not be reciprocated, can you at least say something rather than stare at me blankly?” There’s an unfamiliar look of concern in his eyes, contrasting the usual pride and arrogance he always wears.

What happened to the Veritas Ratio you know? Who is this man by your feet?

“No- that’s not. I… I love you too, I have for a while now, but everything about this is… just… unbelievable.”

“Why?” 

“You’re aeons out of my league, Veritas. I never once considered you would return my feelings.”

He stifles back a laugh, dropping his large hands off your shoulders and clutching the mattress on either side of you. You won’t forget about the way the sheets crumple beneath his grip, or the way his head hangs, bangs tickling your legs.

Bravely, you raise a hand to his hair, running through it. Seemed like he could use the comfort.

“You make me too damn nervous,” he breathes, a hand coming to clutch at his chest. 

“Never thought I’d live to see the day you admit you get nervous.” 

“Why’s that?”

“The only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.”

His confession, and everything about that night, was unorthodox, never predicting that you’d end the day curled up next to Veritas, or the long relationship that would follow.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[paulyenvol6]

Hold Me In Your Heart Tonight

Harry Castillo x female reader

I HAD to write something about Harry Castillo after seeing the 'Materialists' trailer for the first time yesterday so enjoy this smutty one shot about our favourite sugar daddy :)

Contains: smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, reader is a pillow princess, dirty talk, lots of praise, reader and Harry being down bad for each other, daddy vibes but no use of the term, pet names like baby/darling, Harry is a pussy eater, reader is a little shy at first, confessions of love

Wordcount: 4,455

Masterlist

His hands were on your waist practically shoving you through the door and you were grateful for it because your mind was clouded with desire and lust.

You were sure that Harry could smell it off you in case he didn't already notice it in the way you panted in his ear his mouth kissing on your jaw and neck.

"I need you," you breathed hands running over his jacket.

"I know," he answered with his husky voice and you felt the throbbing heat between your legs happily jolt.

The next thing you perceived was the corridor Harry pulled you through, some lights brightening up the place and you wondered if this was an apartment or a castle.

"What the fuck, Harry," you laughed against his lips that gently nibbled at your bottom lip and you saw him lift his eyebrows like he was waking up from a dream.

"Mhm?"

"You didn't tell me you were rich."

He chuckled lowly vibrations of his body transferring to you but then pulled away his forehead leaning against yours. "Problem?"

You had to laugh out again but then swallowed looking right into his intense brown eyes that seemed to eat you alive.

"No," you breathed biting your lip as his hands came up to rest on your shoulders moving your jacket over your shoulder in one motion. It literally was the most attractive thing you had ever seen in your life and at this point you felt that your panties were beyond soaked.

You were still processing what your eyes had just been blessed with and let out a quiet gasp when Harry pressed his mouth against yours once more while simultaneously pushing you towards the wall his right hand cradling your head so it wouldn't smash against it with too much force.

The sound you let out was surpressed by his mouth though devouring your taste and demanding entrance soon. Of course you offered him full access whincing in delight as he started to explore your tongue with his. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his neck wanting him closer to you and Harry was happy to follow your wish.

The two of you would have melted with the wall by now had it been possible. You leaned into the touch of his big hand on the side of your head almost purring like a cat as you arched your back to offer him everything you had. Your core welcoming his thigh between your legs you began carefully rocking yourself against him despite feeing a little shy about being too needy and desperate in your behaviour. But Harry, who seemed to notice the change kissed his way up your cheek and then to your ear.

"No need to get shy on me," he whispered goosebumps rising on your arms your face finding comfort in his nape. "Don't want you to hide anything from me. S'the hottest fucking thing hearing you moan for me."

You smiled kissing up the vein on his neck which earned you a growl from him that made your pussy clench around nothing.

"Please, Harry. Fuckkk, I really need it."

"There we go…," he smiled gently taking your earlobe between his teeth before coming back to your swollen lips.

But soon the journey through his apartment - or should you rather say mansion - continued, him leading you through various doors until you found yourselves in his bedroom. He didn't pull away from you for once, making his way effortlessly through the dim light, concentrating only on holding you as tight and close as possible.

"Baby," he hummed the sound almost entirely captured by the kiss but you still heard him.

"Yes," you replied tightening your grip on his shoulders when you felt his hands traveling down to your ass.

"I need to taste you. Can I?"

A desperate moan escaped your body that made the blood rise in your cheeks but Harry had made clear that he loved hearing you react to him so you just dug your fingers into the fabric of his jacket your pussy pulsating at the thought of feeling his mouth on your center.

"Yes. Please, Harry."

He guided you further towards his bed stopping when the back of your knees hit the edge of it and then you felt his hands moving upwards again fumbling with the zip of your dress. His hands were hasty, so eager to undress you that it took him a few seconds until you felt the cool air brush over your bare neck and Harry pulled the straps over your shoulders so all that covered you were your bra and black panties. You didn't even have any time to feel insecure or doubtful about whether he liked what he saw because he immediately attacked your neck with kisses your hands grabbing his locks while smirking into the dark.

"You're so pretty, jesus christ," he additionally mumbled his hands lingering at your shoulderblades. "I need you, baby, fuck."

With these words he gently, yet determindely pushed you until you fell on the bed, the corners of your mouth curling up watching him get rid of his jacket and then open the first button of his black shirt. His eyes, glistening with a mixture of flashing desire and longing, were on you at all times while he stripped for you.

Your mouth almost watered at the sight, his broad shoulders and muscular thighs taking away your breath. A broken cry went past your lips and you were once again stunned by the way you were behaving like a mindless mess around him. That wasn't you right now. You always had a cool head, were in control of yourself and what you said and now all it had taken was for Harry to give you his brown eyes and take off his shirt and you were acting like a greedy animal. To be fair, he was handsome and his kissing skills were divine, but still you were shocked by your reaction to this man and you feared that it might only get worse.

When all he wore were his boxers, Harry took a step towards you his hand coming up to cradle your cheek and feeling him trace your cheek bone, you closed your eyes finding pleasure in pressing yourself against his big warm hand. You heard a quiet hum and were almost sure that he was smiling that perfect Harry-smile and then opened your eyes when you sensed that he was moving.

He lowered his head to kiss you again your eyes fluttering smelling his perfume that you by now would be able to recognise among thousands and then searched for his eyes when he started speaking again.

"Lay down for me, okay?" he asked and your heart seemed to skip a beat every time your heard his gentle voice.

And in addition to that there was the way he always asked so sweetly being vocal about everything… This was a dream, a beautiful haze that made you crave for more.

You quickly followed his request and crawled to lay on your back with your head against the cushions. The blanket was silk, of course, but it was irrelevant to you right now as you didn't want any layer of fabric separating the two of you right now so ignoring how unelegant it might look, you kicked the blanket away which Harry reacted to with a deep chuckle.

He followed you on the bed slowly approaching you which gave you a few seconds to admire his beauty in the dim light. One half of his face was lit up and you swore you could see a drop of sweat on his perfect forehead which gave you some relief because it seemed like he was equally affected by your makeout session.

And then in a blink of an eye he hovered over you his lips crashing against yours once more while you felt a prominent bulge against your center that made you clench your muscles in anticipation.

"Harry," you sighed beyond caring about whether you would make yourself unattractive by showing your wants and needs to obviously but just like all the times before he just smiled putting in even more determination in the kiss.

"I know. I'll make you feel good now, honey, okay?"

Your fingers grasped at his waist nodding slightly while your dilated pupils took in everyone before you, savouring every sweet second of this godly man caging you beneath him like he had just found you and never intended to leave you.

"Please. I want it so badly."

Harry lifted his head a little your breath hitching at his plump bottom lip that you wished you could sink your teeth into but finding that what awaited you was even better you patiently waited while he squeezed your hands twice before running his gaze over your body.

"I'll give you whatever you want, baby, and more."

You bit your lip as he trailed his hand up your stomach stopping right beneath your bra and then reaching around you to find the fastener. And yet he didn't immediately took the piece of underwear off, giving you a questioning look that most certainly wouldn't have been necessary but you reassuringily nodded with your head signalising him to go on.

His skilled fingers unhooked your bra on the first try and then within seconds your upper body was bare his body replying with a greedy inhalation and the clenching of his jaw. He mumbled something that sounded a bit like a 'Fuck' while he kissed down your body, settling between your parted legs and then licking your skin at the area between your breasts his hands traveling up the side of your body.

You whimpered loudly your insides feeling like they were on fire fully surrendering to his warm and wet mouth. He spoiled the swell of your breasts with worshipping kisses and when the pat of his thumb brushed over your hard nipple for the first time you almost cried out.

You believed that the secret behind his addicting touch was the way he went so slowly and carefully, each movement so precisely and intentional that at some point you yearned and begged for him so much that the slightest graze made your skin prickle with desire.

Soon Harry moved to your left breast letting his tongue twirl around the sensitive bud your right breast far from being neglected though. In an inappropriately skillful way he brought your right nipple between two of his fingers squeezing just so much that it would send shockwaves through your body causing your hips to buckle but not so much that it would hurt you.

And then he massaged your breast, his large hand toying and kneading your flesh and all you could do was stare at his veiny big hand. You were almost in awe of how good he was with both his mouth and hands and then twitched when you felt his teeth grazing over your perky nipples.

"Ohh fuck, Harry," you whined throwing your head back but wanting to see him at the same time so it was an odd tilt of your head that you ended up doing.

"You like that, baby? Want me to continue?"

"Yes, I need you to continue," you whispered surprised by the fact that you had managed to bring out a coherent and relatively comprehensible sentence.

He crookedly grinned eyes flashing up for a moment and then he squeezed your breast one last time as if to say goodbye and move to another, much better hidden place. You greedily lifted your hips offering him what laid between your legs and under any other circumstances you might have felt ashamed about showing yourself so vulnerable but something about Harry was so reassuring and warm that you felt you could embrace yourself completely and release whatever was threatening to leave your body.

He open-mouthedly kissed his way south leaving a wet trace behind that glistened under the light and looked up to you once he was on the same level as your clothed pussy. His hands were on your hips soothingly rubbing which didn't really help, to be honest, because your body was on fire.

Your lungs swallowed the fresh air more than they inhaled it, your hands clenching his hair and the bedsheets in turns and your heels digging into the mattress. You were about to ask him to fasten up, anything to fight the aching pressure between your thighs that took over your brain when he lowered his face kissing the inside of your right and then your left thigh before hooking his fingers in the waistband of your black lace panties and pulling them down your legs and over your ankles.

Harry threw them behind him without paying attention to where they landed immediately focused on the treasure that was on display for him.

"M'the luckiest man on the planet," he mumbled parting your legs wider with his elbows and then running his gaze over your pussy, his stare almost feeling like a heat ray burning in your delicate flesh.

"Please," you panted shifting your hips to get yourself closer to his delicious looking mouth that had already proven itself talented in the way he had taken care of your breast.

And then he finally complied keeping eye contact at all times while licking a strip from your hole up to your clit his eyes rolling back at your scent and taste. He had already noticed the glistening wetness leaking out of your hole feeling an excited and yearning fluttering of his heart but now that he got to savour it on his tongue he thought that he might actually lose it.

"Ohh baby," he moaned adjusting your legs to rest over his shoulders so he had the perfect angle to dive into your cunt.

His right hand was sprawled out on your tummy massaging calming circles into your skin and also trying to keep you still while his left stroke your thigh. In the meantime his tongue had stopped exploring your pussy and settled against your clit circling it and using your own arousal as lubrication. To make it more intense for you he used his thumb to get the hood that covered your most sensitive spot out of the way and brushed over the underside of it with his pointed tongue.

It provoked a heavenly outburst in you, your back arching from the bed hands pulling at the roots of his hair so forcefully that you feared you had hurt him for a second but relaxed as he determindely continued to eat your pussy like it was his last meal. In truth, nothing could distract him from this paradise that was your pussy right now and he doubted either of you would see a lot of sunlight in the next few days.

Harry Castillo was addicted now and he had known so from the moment he had first seen your pussy. You weren't any less hungry for him and specifically his mouth right now, moaning and groaning, your widened eyes on his head and your lips parted to catch your breath although nothing could calm you down at this moment.

"Harry. Oh god, that's so good. Ohh fuck, yes."

You almost choked on your own breath eyes twisting when he sucked your clit into his mouth carefully tapping against it with his tongue while applying pressure with his hollowed cheeks. He knew exactly what he was doing, covering your clit with kisses, treating it just as he had your nipples and mouth earlier and then proceeded to circle your entrance his thumb replacing his tongue so you wouldn't have to miss his touch for a second.

Harry greedily lapped up your wetness like a man starved entering your hole with the tip of his tongue and seemingly didn't care about his chin being completely covered with your juices. He was possessed, an invisible force having taken control of his body and mind and all he cared about was melting with your pussy and provoking those sweet sounds in you.

And you were happy to help, your moans turning into cries over time and you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm.

"Harryyy," you tried to signal him biting down hard on your bottom lip and pulling at his hair. "I'm gonna cum."

His eyes darted at you flimmering with passion looking delighted by your announcement.

"Come for me baby. I want you to come all over my face, darling, god… C'mon. Give it to me, please."

His tongue and finger switched their positions again, his mouth covering the whole of your clit while his tongue skillfully circled and rubbed the little pearl a lot faster now and that was what eventually drove you over the edge along with two of his fingers stuffed inside of you.

"There you go, my darling… There you go," his deep voice talked you through it which made you feel completely safe and comfortable about showing yourself so vulnerable. You shrieked, your face tensing and your shoulderblades lifting from the bed while letting out little whines that quietened down over time.

"Ohhh god…," you then whispered eyelashes trembling while tasting the aftermath of your high.

"That was so amazing, Harry. I…" He chuckled clearly amused by the way you were literally speechless and tenderly caressed your thighs.

"You are amazing," he replied lowering his face once more to enjoy your taste before making his way up your body until he could capture your lips in a deep and intense kiss. Your hands reached around to hold on to his head feeling content with him on top of you again because that way you were so wonderfully embraced and hugged by him.

"Harry?" you soon asked smiling at the faint scratch of his beard against your philtrum.

"Yes, baby?"

"Can you fuck me?"

At first there was no reaction, him carefully sucking at your bottom lip but then he raised his head moving a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, darling."

He was about to proceed reaching down to his boxers to free his cock but you stopped him placing a firm hand on his wrist.

"Can you go raw?"

His eyes shot up to your face taking in your facial expression and slightly frowning at your words. He wanted to say something his mouth opening but you were quicker and squeezed his hand.

"I'm on the pill. And I'm clean. I got tested half a year ago and I haven't been with anyone ever since."

The crease between his eyebrows slowly vanished a smile replacing the confused look.

"I'm clean too. So I guess if you really want to…"

"Yes," you nodded eagerly wrapping both your arms and legs around him. "I want to feel you inside of me, baby. So badly. I know s'gonna feel so good."

Harry's breath hitched a lustful cloudiness covering his brown eyes and then he finally reached down to take off his boxers. In the dim light you weren't able to make out his dick perfectly but what you saw made your pussy clench and your throat tighten. He was huge, beautifully curved and some prominent veins winding up his length and for some reason you just knew that he would feel amazing inside of you.

"Oh baby," Harry growled pumping his cock a few times and holding the side of your face while his forehead touched yours.

"You're so pretty and sexy and gosh… I just… I can't believe I get to fuck this perfect pussy."

Your eyes stared into his and you could swear you could look into his soul when he aligned himself with your entrance his tip slowly working itself inside. The both of you let out a gasp and it wasn't a surprise that there was a slight sting in your core, your walls being stretched by his massive dick. He was the biggest you had ever had and were thankful that he gave you a minute to adjust.

Harry had dropped his head to your nape his chest rising and falling rapidly as he got lost in the way you hugged him so tightly.

"Fuckin' perfect," he mumbled almost inaudibly both his hands trailing patterns over your cheeks. "Are you okay?"

You exhaled loudly feeling how your body began to get used to him and just as you had predicted, Harry was meant for you. He wasn't inside you to the brim yet but he already made you drool just by grazing with his veiny shaft over your sensitive walls, let alone the aching stretch slowly turning into an electric thrill that kept all your nerves sizzling and ablaze with almost unbearable anticipation.

"Yes. So good, Harry. You can start moving, please."

He grinned raising his head from your neck to prop himself on his elbows next to your head.

"If you're asking so nicely."

And then he backed out a little evoking another gasp from you only to push back in and even going a little deeper this time. Sweat was gathering on your forehead your breath coming in spurts but you relished each and every moment. You felt so close and connected with him like you had quite literally melted with him and crossed your arms behind the back of his neck when he started to move with steady thrusts.

"You feel so goddamn perfect, baby, god… Look what you're doing to me…"

His fingers toyed with your messy hair his hips crashing against yours in the most gentle and delicate way and when you felt his hand moving to your clit everything became even more intense. He rubbed you in circles bringing you closer so you would be able to orgasm with him.

"Harry… Fuck, please don't stop," you moaned although you couldn't think of a reason for him to pull out right now and watched his tense face through half-litted eyes.

He set a faster pace now thrusting in and out of your pussy and narrowing his eyes in pleasure every time he pushed back in. His little groans sent you straight to heaven making your heart twist and turn and it was almost enough to bring you over the edge.

Speaking of, the two of you were driven closer with every second that passed, every contact of your bodies, every moan in the other person's ear and soon you clung to Harry's shoulder shivering uncontrollably.

"Harry," was all you pressed but he understood going faster around your clit and hitting all the deep spots inside of you.

"I need you to come again, baby. You feel so good, just need you to come around me," he hissed through gritted teeth his nose nestling against your temple. He was so deep that his tip grazed over your cervix and it only added to the thrill making you see stars when you came for a second time tonight.

Your hips buckled, your body curling up to meet his deep thrust, while your hands held on to him as if it were the only way to keep you from ascending. Small whimpers that made Harry's stomach clench escaped from your mouth and along with the tightness of your pussy it drove him over the edge following you. A deep growl left his throat as he came to a stop inside of you his cum painting your walls.

"Fuck, baby… Oh jesus christ…"

Your foreheads touched Harry taking your face into both of his hands and then collapsed on top of you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

"You're perfect, baby, fuck…"

You welcomed the embrace heavily panting against his mouth that came down to capture your lips in a kiss. Neither of you cared about the sweat connecting your foreheads or your messy hair hanging everywhere. This was an intense moment of intimacy because the two of you had just opened up to the other person on a new level deciding to trust each other by showing yourselves in your most vulnerable state.

"I think I'm in love with you," Harry suddenly mumbled against your lips which made your eyes widen but was shortly after followed by a smile.

"I think I'm in love with you too."

You stayed like this for a while until he rolled off you laying down on his back next to you and you moaned like a cat at the loss of his weight on you. He was quick to move on his side though so you could crawl towards him staring at the ceiling with a satisfied grin on your face that didn't seem to fade any time soon.

"Harry?" you asked glancing at him from the corner of your eye ignoring the fact that he had already closed his eyes.

"Mhm?" he hummed in response making you purse your lips.

"How much is this apartment?"

You certainly didn't want to be rude asking him about his money right after he had slept with you but the question was lingering in your head because now that you had the opportunity to look around in his room you started to believe that he indeed must be very rich.

"12 Million," the answer came and you chuckled in disbelief your eyes widening. Before you could express your shock though Harry moved his hand to your upper arm moving you closer to him which you gladly let happen.

"12 Million…," you then mumbled starting to draw patterns over his chest. "That's insane."

Harry opened his left eye a mischievious smirk appearing on his face but he didn't make an attempt to deny it.

"We should go to sleep now. It has gotten late."

You nodded in agreement and moved your head so it could comfortably rest against the cushion that probably was worth a monthly salary and felt Harry covering the two of you with the silk blanket. Then he lay down again brushing over your cheek before kissing you softly.

"Goodnight. And I want you to know that this was very special to me."

You returned the smile butterflies awakening in your stomach once again and rubbed with your thumb over the back of his hand.

"It was special to me too, Harry. One of the most beautiful moments of my life."

With these words you kissed one last time before adjusting on the bed, faces turned to each other but eyes closed.

His body seemed to radiate this soothing addicting warmth that hugged you so beautifully, was the last thing you thought and it was no wonder you drifted to sleep in a matter of minutes.

Astonishingly, your heartbeats were in sync.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Magic Systems

Magic - change wrought through unnatural means

Most fantasy can be placed along a spectrum where there are 3 main points: soft magic at one end, hard magic at the other, and a middle ground between the two.

Soft Magic

Magic that is not well-defined for the reader.

Generally, we don’t understand where the magic comes from, who can use it, or what its limitations are.

Readers can see this type of magic being used.

But they can never anticipate when magic will be used in the plot because they can’t begin to guess how it works.

You can’t break a rule if the rules don’t exist!

Most stories that feature this system will have the magic users be secondary characters, allowing them to avoid explaining exactly how the magic works.

It’s also argued that without knowing everything about the magic, it tends to hold more wonder and excitement for readers.

Hard Magic

Has very rigid boundaries.

Readers know where the magic comes from, how it’s used, who uses it, and what its boundaries and limitations are.

We know the limitations of the characters and can understand why they can’t simply magic themselves out of any particular challenge.

Stories with hard magic systems do not need to avoid the main character being a magic-wielder, as they have the capacity to explain to the reader what is going on.

A lot of writers this system because it gives them very explicit guidelines to follow in their plot and creates some more satisfying pay-offs for readers.

The Middle Ground

The meeting point between the soft and hard systems.

We might understand a bit about the way the magic works, but not all our questions are answered.

While most of the content adheres to rules, these rules aren’t fully explored.

This system relies on the reader’s suspension of disbelief.

The main character can be a magic-wielder or not, and it’s up to the writer to determine when magic will be used in terms of plot.

How to Choose a System

You can and should use these guiding principles to build your magic system. Remember that you don’t have to choose one or the other. Your system can draw from aspects of both. Just stay aware of the weaknesses of the path you choose, and ensure you utilize its strengths.

Use a hard magic system if:

You are going to use magic to solve problems

Your audience is accustomed to the tropes of hard magic

You are okay with jumping through hoops to expand your system

Your magic doesn’t convey a theme

Use a soft magic system if:

You want to convey a theme through magic

You want to create a sense of wonder

You want the ability to expand easily

You want to be accessible to a broader audience

Your magic won’t regularly be used to solve problems

Branches of Magic

Like most writing processes, there isn’t really a correct place to begin designing a magic system. A common, and efficient, place to start, however, is by choosing what type of magic system(s) you wish to employ, such as:

Nature-based magic: water, earth, fire, air, and everything in between

Divination magic: see beyond sight and peer through time and space

Conjuring magic: move objects through space over any distance

Psychic magic: master the world of the mind

Life and death magic: tap into the very forces of life, death, and un-death with this surprisingly versatile collection

Animal- or creature-exclusive magic: some creatures just do it better

Magitech systems: the blurring lines of sorcery and science give magic a next-gen, high-tech flair

Eclectic magic: it doesn’t have to be “real” magic to have a real effect

Uncommon magic systems: the unsung heroes of fantasy magic

AALC Method

How to create your own magic system using the AALC (Appearance, Abilities, Limits & Cost) Method

Appearance

What the magic looks like

Makes the world feel more exotic

Can cause problems for characters but cannot solve them

Usually tied to a character arc

Abilities

What the magic does

Points calculated based on magical effect, range, number of people affected, and duration

Characters have a finite amount of fuel (mana) to use abilities

More powerful abilities require more fuel

The fuel does not have to be overt for the audience to understand

If points not overt, cannot solve conflicts unless a cost system is added

Limits

Unlimited uses of magical abilities

Abilities stratified in codified levels defined by their limits

The more the levels' abilities and limits are known by the audience, the more they can be used to solve conflicts

Focused on clever uses of abilities against stronger foes

Cost system can be added to enhance dramatic moments

Cost

Costs must be greater than or equal to abilities to make them dramatically satisfying

Costs can include time, exhaustion, materials, sanity, morality, etc.

Adds dilemma to magic by forcing characters to make choices

The greater the character's sacrifice, the more audience satisfaction at conflict resolution

Each system builds on the previous ones, so that Cost Systems use all four, while Point Systems only care about Abilities and Appearance.

Multiple systems can exist within the same story, and systems can harden over the course of the story.

The Force, for instance, has been a Soft, Point, Level, and Cost System depending on who wrote it at the time.

SOFT SYSTEMS (Appearance Only)

Window Dressing - magic for secondary characters; can instigate conflict but cannot solve it; e.g., Gandalf

Soft Villain - No explanation or upper limits needed; makes villains more powerful to make heroes greater underdogs; e.g., The Emperor

Chosen One - Unknown power keeps hero safe throughout story; can be considered plot armor unless earned through character arc

Sort Hero Incomplete - Curse or positive ability the character cannot control; hero still learning limits of ability at story's end; powers and arc continued in next adventure

Soft Hero Complete - Hero embraces ability to complete arc and solve main conflict; magic must become harder in subsequent adventures

POINT SYSTEMS (Appearance + Abilities)

Points Opaque - Non-explicit reservoir of energy fuels powers; cannot solve main problems without cost option because characters finding hidden energy reserve feels like deus ex machina

Points Hard - Both abiliites and points system must be explicit like in video games; becomes about resource management; easy to understand but takes sense of wonder out of magic

LEVEL SYSTEMS (Appearance + Abilities + Limits)

Soft Level Static - Unchanging power without upper limits; cannot solve conflicts because feels repetitive; power must be used cleverly; e.g., Wolverine's healing factor

Soft Level Advancing - Increased powers or new powers with unknown limits; cannot solve conflicts unless tied to a character arc like Soft Hero Complete, at which point "unlocks" new abilities

Hard Level Static - Unchanging abilities with clear-cut limits; can solve conflicts so long as setup is properly seeded, usually resulting in sacrifice; e.g., Genie

Hard Level Advancing - Well-established abilities with limits; can solve conflicts based upon clever uses of abilities, usually against stronger foes; e.g., Airbender

COST SYSTEMS (Appearance + Abilities + Limits + Cost)

Static Cost - Well-established cost remains consistent for each use of ability; can solve conflicts since based on personal sacrifice

Cost Fluctuating - Costs change based upon dramatic need; costs must be greater than or equal to ability; possible costs include lost time, money, sanity, health, memory, life, morality, etc.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ Writing Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs Writing Notes: Magic System ⚜ Fictional Items; Poisons ⚜ Fantasy

[soaringwide]

PAC: How can you grow from this difficult situation? make lemonade

A bit of a general reading inspired by me struggling with some things in life and I know I'm probably not the only one...

This is a new pick a picture tarot reading inspired by the saying ''When life gives you lemons, make lemonade", where I'll look at a difficult situation you are currently experiencing and help you make something positive out of it.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people so it might not resonates perfectly to your situation. Take what resonates and leave out the rest.

book a reading ★ all PACs ★ testimonials

PILE 1 - lilac lemon

The situation you are struggling with has to do with the established order of things; a leadership of some type. Perhaps political, perhaps your workplace, perhaps a religious structure. Something that exists outside of you and that has a lot of eyes on it and people participating in it. It seems whatever this is referring to is weighting heavily on you; it is too much, too noisy, too exhausting, and you are in deep need of rest and some type of inner silence. Perhaps there is also the idea of finding your way back to truth beyond this smokey veil. It also seems that this leadership makes you think that there is no long term plan, a lack of foresight that will have negative consequences on your own life and you feel unable to go against that as it's so much bigger than you. It's like your own plans and dreams for the future are being stopped and the future is uncertain.

How to turn lemons into lemonade? Here the message points at claiming back sovereignty in your own life. You are not as hopeless as you think you are and there are things you can put into place to take back the leader's role at your own level. You don't have to agree to what's being said to you, you don't have to act the way this power wants you to. Your soul is free and King/Queen. Change starts with yourself. Your inability to see a way out speaks more of your own inner blockages and mental blindfolds than what reality. Things need to change and there is no point clinging onto the past and trying to do the same things and expect things to go back to what they were, because they won't. This situation calls for radical actions, things that were not done before, so that you can call for a different result. Not gonna lie the process will be tumultuous, and, again, it starts within yourself; but you will come out of it stronger as an individual.

Something that can help you on this quest is about looking inward for answers and don't get swayed by what is being said outside. Resist and don't let go of what you feel is wrong. You know justice. You know truth. We are all equals and no human power is above that. Dust to dust.

PILE 2 - flower lemon

For this pile, it seems that this situation relates to your career. You are at a point where everything that could be gained from this has been gained, which feels unsatisfying and not enough, yet that's all you could get. There is a need to leave conflict behind and cut out your losses, and by that I mean that in no way you feel like a winner here but you're trying to aim for the least harmful outcome. There is a desire to build a more stable state of financial comfort and balance for yourself, but it feels a bit like something you don't really believe in or trust in, it feels constricted and pessimistic. Why it's a difficult situation is because while you want to move on and leave this behind, you don't really have a plan, your energy feels scattered, like you're trying to rush forward without any idea of how to direct your focus. It makes you impulsive and directionless, acting one day on a whim because you feel XYZ and going in another direction the next because you had a change of heart. So yeah it's making the situation harder to navigate than necessary, and I'm sensing it is mostly rooted in your performance anxiety and a heavy heart and overactive mind, rather than a lack of opportunities outside of you.

How can you turn this sourness into sweetness? Here the cards talk about getting back on track by bringing resolve and discipline into your life. You might currently be trapping yourself by being too hard on yourself on some aspects, such as expecting perfection in your behaviors and the outcomes you can get, like expecting immediate success, while also being too lenient with yourself in other aspects, which might include not putting in the work or letting yourself go to waste in the daily chaos of a scattered mind. I just really need to add that being disciplined doesn't have to be a dry and painful thing. A good leader is not ruthless and you need to be a good leader to yourself. That means understanding your limitations but pushing yourself gently when necessary. It means having a clear mind regarding the steps you need to take, but also a good heart that can be empathetic to yourself, your struggles and the fluctuations of your energy and emotions on the day to day. I'm also getting simply that giving yourself the possibility to reach out for the opportunities you yearn for will be a big improvement, as I really thing there is a lack of action here and too many chaotic thoughts. That also means investing your energy smartly, to plant the seed for future you. Start today by doing one thing, unwind, and continue the next day. If today was not as good as you wanted it to be, it's okay, it's not a failure, it's just your journey, and tomorrow is another day.

I also think working on your mindset could help. If you believe good things are ahead of you, you're more likely to have high spirits which will make putting in the work toward success easier and more pleasurable. You don't need to be delusional about it, realistically if you keep trying, you're bound to see progress in one way or another, or learn enough from the process than you can correct course and aim better towards success.

PILE 3 - stripe lemon

The situation you are currently confronted with has to do with waiting some time of decision that will have an impact on your future. I kinda have this image of things being weighted behind the scenes, processes are being run, and you don't have much insight on what is happening. There are many obscured elements here, things that happen outside of your control. So I think whilst all of this is happening, you're thinking a lot and trying to figure out a plan whether things go one way or the other, trying to prepare yourself for the future without knowing what it will hold. I also think part of you is focusing as much as possible on what can be done in the moment, getting busy with tasks in order to strengthen what you can, like putting money aside or trying to find other money making streams, again in preparation for this big judgement or decision. In a way, you gaze cannot look into the future as it is obscured, the only things you can do is build your defenses with what you have, and turn your gaze inward. So I also think you are currently focusing on yourself quite a lot and trying to sense things more than rationally learn them. Intuition over intel so to speak, and remembering your personal power of survival and change.

This situation is an opportunity to ask yourself what it is you want to achieve next. To dream, to imagine the future. You've been quite stagnant for a while, and you still are, but things are about to change, the timing will vary, but it won't stay like this forever. You need to ask yourself what it is you wish for, what you want your future life to look like. Only by wishing first can you then start the chain reaction that will lead to movement and transformation. This all start with yourself. With an idea. With an impulse. One day the time of collaboration and learning through exchanges will come, but right now you are relatively alone and you can gain a lot from that process. Lots of inner growth and realizations. Finally, some things are outside of your control right now and you can't prepare for everything. Things are about to change in ways you might not expect or not expect fully. So try not to drive yourself insane trying to guess the future but just ride the wave, you will get through it.

PILE 4 - outline lemon

This is the love situation pile for those who currently are at a standstill. There is magnetic attraction, desire, deep interest, and a potential you can't seem to look away from. Yet, things are not happening the way you want them to, or not happening at all. This lack of movement is creating two things within you. 1) it puts you in a catastrophic and self sabotaging mindset where you kinda want to throw a kick at the thing in order to run it to the ground once and for all and be done with it. There is anger and desperation but also deep sadness and regrets. 2) you snap out of it and decide you're going to do something about it by taking the lead and trying to make the things you want to happen, happen. However nothing goes the way you want them to and it seems you are making things worse rather than doing anything good, so you go back to 1).

So you're wondering about cutting your losses and moving on. Taking what you've learned and what you became with this relationship as it is/was, and try to find something better to settle and expand. However this idea is far from bringing you the peace you want. It feels like giving up. It feels like waste. You are struggling a lot with what to do and you feel like you need to do something, one last thing before giving up fully, but what?

What positive thing can be gained from this situation? Ok so this is not a relationship reading, it is meant more to see what YOU can gain from this right now than what's gonna happen with your person. It's on your level and the other person is not really in the picture. That said, let's dive into this.

This situation calls for learning to balance yourself. There are times to take risks, but they need to be calculated. To be taken at the right time and in measured ways. It is saying that you have a great power when it comes to your ability to take actions, to follow your intuition and communicate your ideas, but as things are things might be a bit all over the place and need to be brought back into balance. Mastering this way of being will always be useful, regardless of the situation, but it seems especially important in the situation we are talking about today.

(It's quite hilarious because I was just about to write that I was confused about the importance of actions and thoughts/communication in this part of the reading (I had King of Wands and Queen of Swords), and how the Cups of the Heart was missing. And then I draw the Queen of Cups. Anyway.)

I think this is about calming your very active and heated mind in order to let your heart shine through. Because, in the end, it's your heart that will lead you towards the right actions and the right words. And you can't hear anything when everything is chaos, despair and confusion. Let things rest. The wisdom of the heart whispers, it doesn't scream. Focus on the beauty and the good things this situation is bringing you, not what you want it to be. I think you lost track of that. When the time comes, you will know what to do.

[fallingstqrss]

kiss it better

request: can you do a one-shot just like the scene where coryo goes insane because he thinks that the reader left him in the cabin but she didn't and they just go to spend some quality time.

a/n: thank you so much for the request i love this idea!

summary: following the death of Mayflower and Billy Taupe you and coriolanus decide to flee the districts, hoping to avoid the persecution of the peacekeepers. however, when you seem to get lost in the woods coriolanus panics.

warnings: there is a brief description of mayfair's death but it's not detailed. coriolanus might be slightly ooc cause this is my first time writing him but i swear im trying my best.

Coriolanus had made a huge mistake. he hadn't meant to kill Mayfair, he just panicked. He was just going to let her leave but then you walked in, making you a part of Sejanus' horrible plan.

"What's going on?" You spoke, eyes moving from Coriolanus to the weapons that lay on the table. Coriolanus saw as your eyes widened and he hurried to comfort you. "Corio, what's going on?" You questioned again, clutching onto his bicep, hoping for reassurance.

"Y/n, it's gonna be fine-" Coriolanus started, attempting to soothe you as he ran a hand across your cheek.

"Oh, none of you are going to be fine. I'm gonna tell my Daddy what all of you did and he's gonna string you up!" Mayfair spoke in an almost taunting tone. Her threat casts a chilling shadow over the room. As Mayfair turned to leave Spruce, fueled by tension and adrenaline, raised the gun to her back.

"I can't let you leave," Spruce spoke. Y/n took an unconscious step back, recoiling from the potential for violence. Coriolanus could tell you were scared and he felt horrible for being the reason you were involved in this. His mind was racing, he knew he had to get you out of there.

"She's bluffing, she won't actually do anything." Billy Taupe defended, eager to avoid any harm that might come to his girlfriend and to deescalate the growing tension in the room.

"Really? Was I bluffing at the reaping? Tell me Lucy Gray, how did you like your time in the Capitol?" Mayfair spoke, eyes staring at Lucy Gray, who gasped. Mayfair smiled as she turned to leave. Coriolanus jumped at the opportunity, lunging for the weapon on the ground. In a single second Mayfair had fallen to the ground. You gasped, your eyes fixated on Mayfair's fallen figure. Coriolanus was quick to shield you from the unsettling sight, positioning himself in front of you.

"I need you to go home y/n. I'm going to get this figured out. But you need to go home right now and you can't look like anything is wrong," He spoke, his tone firm and filled with urgency. "y/n, please." Coriolanus spoke again when you didn't move. You had stood still, trying to process the events that had just unfolded in front of you. Finally, you looked up at Coriolanus, a nod of reluctant understanding breaking through your shock. You trusted Coriolanus, he would get you guys out of this.

Coriolanus watched you leave, a mixture of relief and worry painted on his face. Once you were out of sight, he turned back to the remaining people in the room. He was determined, now that your safety was at risk nothing else mattered.

That's how the two of you ended up here, walking through the woods, in search of life beyond the districts. Despite some attempts at small talk, the weight of the recent events hung heavily in the air. Coriolanus could sense you were struggling to come to terms with the deaths of Mayfair and, more importantly, your shared friend Sejanus.

"I just don't understand what happened. Sejanus' plan was horrible but he seemed like he was being careful," You rambled on, your voice heavy with confusion and grief. You were unaware of Coriolanus' involvement in the death of your friend. You also didn't notice the tension of the captured Coriolanus at the mention of Sejanus.

"He apparently wasn't careful enough," Coriolanus responded, his tone colder than usual, a deliberate attempt to steer away from the conversation surrounding Sejanus. He longed to focus on the two the two of you would spend together, the new life you could start. Coriolanus was taken aback when you came to an abrupt stop, forcing him to backtrack to stand in front of you. You stared up at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you not mourn for Sejanus at all, Corio?" You spoke, your eyes reflecting the sadness and confusion that weighed you down. Coriolanus felt a pang of guilt for being distant. However, the truth of Sejanus' death was a burden that he couldn't bear to share with you. He knew you would've never forgiven him.

"Of course, I do," Coriolanus spoke, his tone softer now in an attempt to console you. Coriolanus brought a hand to cup your cheek. "But, it was his actions that killed him." You still seemed unsure, offering a careful nod before turning your gaze to the ground. Coriolanus dropped his hand, moving to walk next to you again.

Eventually, the two of you arrived at the cabin shown to you by Lucy Gray and the Covey. Coriolanus couldn't shake the feeling of your silence, finding it unsettling. The two of you walked into the cabin, setting your things down. "We should fish for a while, we're going to need some food for the rest of the trip," Coriolanus suggested.

"Lucy Gray said there should be some poles under the floorboards," You spoke, avoiding eye contact with Coriolanus as you hung your belongings on the hooks by the door.

Coriolanus nodded, moving towards the boards he found to be loose. He lifted the boards, his eyes widening as he lifted the sheet to reveal the guns that had been used to kill Mayfair. You observed from across the room, a twinge of concern gracing your features. "What is it, Corio?" You questioned, his familiar nickname being a small sense of comfort in the moment of the unsettling discovery. He remained silent, picking up the gun as he turned to face you. Your breath caught in your chest as you saw the weapon, your mind flashing back to the violent events.

"It's the guns," Coriolanus stated, his eyes moving between the weapon in his arms and you. "This means we can go home," You hummed, nodding in agreement. The revelations held the promise of an escape. The promise of a way home. But, they also unearthed memories Coriolanus knew you could never fully forget.

"I'm going to see if I can find anything to eat around the lake, maybe that one root Lucy Gray mentioned," You spoke quickly, shaking your head as she grabbed one of the small shovels left near the door.

"Y/n, wait," Coriolanus spoke, sensing the uneasy energy that surrounded you. "It could be dangerous," Coriolanus spoke, his protective nature kicking in. You smiled as you recognized his instinct to protect you.

"Well, it's a good thing I've got this," You spoke, attempting a teasing tone as you held up the shovel. You could tell Coriolanus didn't quite believe you and you hurried out of the door. Coriolanus was worried for you but brushed off the interaction, trusting that you could take care of yourself. He rewrapped the guns, hoping to drop them into the lake, burying the echoes of the past.

Coriolanus stepped outside heading towards the boat. His eyes circled his surroundings, hoping to find you. However, he didn't see you. He looked around again, his breathing becoming more ragged as he called out for you. He was met with the horrifying echo of his own voice, no response from you.

You had ventured into the forest after finding that Katniss was not ready to be eaten. You had hoped to find some berries, remembering the ones Maude Ivory had collected for you to eat. You attempted to ignore the way the trees seemed to close in on you, the path you thought you knew being erased. You ignored those thought, you had been going in a straight line, there were no place to get lost along the way.

"They should be up here," You whispered to yourself, letting out a sigh as you hoped to break the silence that lay within the forest. The rustling leaves and distant calls of birds engulfed you as you moved throughout the forest.

You had been walking for a while, looking around you realized you have never been in this part of the forest, a sign that you had gone way too far. You turned in various directions, spinning around as you searched for the way you came. Panic began to set in as you quickened your pace, unfortunately leading you to venture deeper and deeper into the forest.

In her disoriented state, you failed to see the root sticking out of the ground. Her foot caught on the root, causing you to stumble forward. Desperation clawed at you as you tried to regain your balance. However, the forest had other plans.

A divot in the ground forced you to the ground as your hands reached out to break your fall. The forest floor met you with a sickening thud, your head colliding with a moss-covered rock. The world around you spun, the pain in your head intensifying with every breath you took. As your consciousness slipped away, the forest seemed to blur into a blend of green and brown, the shadows seeming to dance together in a mesmerizing rhythm.

Back at the cabin Coriolanus grew restless as he awaited your return. The seconds felt like hours as he stared at the tree line, willing you to appear. Finally, Coriolanus was sick of waiting and decided that he would find you himself.

As he ventured into the forest the trees seemed to swallow him. His breaths came out fast, each step propelling him further into the silent forest. Anxiety was clawing at his chest, hundreds of what-ifs raced in his mind.

"Y/n? Did something happen? If something happens we can talk about it!" Coriolanus shouted, pausing as he awaited a response. But he didn't receive one, he only had the rustling leaves to greet him. The silence that surrounded him was deafening.

"Y/n, please say something. I need to know you're okay," He pleaded again. The forest remained silent, offering no hope to comfort his growing concern. Fear painted vivid scenarios in his head, each one darker than the last.

"Please, y/n, if I did something I'm so sorry. We don't even have to talk about it, please just come back with me." Coriolanus pleaded. His pleas became more urgent. His mood shifted from worry to complete despare quickly.

"Please, I can't lose you too." He spoke, this plea much quieter than the previous ones. His voice broke as he spoke, his eyes searching for any clue of you. His steps quickened as he moved around the forest, his handles trembling as he pushed branches out of his way.

"Please, y/n," He called one more time, assuming the worst. He'd come to the conclusion that you left him. It was either that or you were dead, but he couldn't bring himself to grasp the idea that you were dead.

Unbeknownst to Coriolanus, you began to stir on the forest floor. The pain in your head still lingered but the sound of someone's voice distracted you from the pain. You listened more closely as you tried to sit up. Your senses were snapped back into reality when you realized that it was Coriolanus' voice you were hearing. The closer you listened you realized how distressed he sounded and it practically broke your heart. You listened again to his ever-present calls, trying to hear which direction they were coming from, his voice acting as a life-line.

"Corio," you called out weakly, standing as you braced yourself on one of the trees. Coriolanus' head snapped in the direction of your voice. He hurried in that direction, his eyes wide with fear and relief. "Coriolanus," You called out again, wondering if you had imagined him calling for you.

"Hang on y/n! I'm coming," He spoke. Relief washed over him when he finally saw you leaning up against one of the trees, Coriolanus rushed towards you. In your disoriented state you barely even realized he had found you until he engulfed you in his arms. Your senses finally started to come back to you as you reciprocated the embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Coriolanus pulled away for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, he could hardly believe he'd actually found you. He'd thought you were gone for good. Your eyes met his, being met with a vulnerability from Coriolanus you'd never seen before. Coriolanus hated the way you made him felt. He hated how worried he always was for you. But, he also couldn't deny how much he loved you.

"What happened?" Coriolanus finally spoke, brushing your hair out of your face to examine the cut on your forehead.

"I was looking for those berries, the ones Maude Ivory showed us and I got lost, and then I think I tripped," you began to ramble, stopping yourself to take a breath before speaking again, "It's all kind of a blur." Coriolanus nodded as he processed what you said, unraveling his arms from you as he wrapped an arm around your waist to help guide you back to the cabin.

"Well, I think we should get you back to the cabin," Coriolanus spoke and you laughed as you nodded. You'd had enough of the woods.

Back at the cabin Coriolanus used one of the med-kits you'd brought to clean you up. Your heart swelled at how gentle he was, his hands moving cautiously over your face.

"So, will I survive?" You questioned, a smile gracing your features.

"I think you'll be okay," Coriolanus responded, a smile of his own coming across his face. But, you could tell the smile didn't meet his eyes. You could tell something was still bothering him. The sunlight pouring in from the windows illuminated the worry that was still present in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the fear he'd felt when he thought you'd abandoned him in the forest.

When Coriolanus finished cleaning the wound he set the supplies to the side and leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on the spot he'd just tended to. The warmth of his lips lingered on your forehead, a comforting gesture that transcended the physical healing.

"There, kissed it better." Coriolanus whispered as he moved away from you, cleaning up the remaining supplies of the med-kit.

Despite his comforting gesture, you couldn't ignore the concern that was still etched on his face. As he finished putting the med-kit away he turned to look at you, being met with your questioning gaze. "Corio, you've been on edge since we got back. What's wrong?" You questioned him, taking a couple steps closer to him so you could wrap your arms around his waist.

Coriolanus hesitated, his eyes betraying his turmoil of emotions. He opened his mouth to respond but the words got caught in his throat. Tension lingered in the air as you searched his face for clues on what he was feeling.

"It's nothing, y/n. Just a scare, that's all. Everything is fine." Coriolanus spoke. However, despite his attempts to comfort you, you could still sense his unease. You reached upwards, cupping his face to draw his attention.

"Come on, Corio. Talk to me," You spoke. Coriolanus sighed, he was torn between his desire to shield you from his concerns and the intimacy the two of you had always shared. Eventually, he gave in.

"I just... I can't stand the thought of anything happening to you. losing you in the woods, even if it was just for a moment, it terrified me." Coriolanus confessed softly. Your eyes softened at his confession.

"I'm right here, Corio. I'm not going anywhere." You assured, he nodded. "I love you, Coriolanus. Wherever you go, I'm gonna be there." You spoke, his words caught him off guard. The two of you had never used the word love.

"Y/n..." Coriolanus started, his eyes moving away from you. However, your hold on his face forced his attention back onto you. "I've never been good at this, relationships. I'm afraid of losing you, of not being enough." You nodded, you understood Coriolanus' insecurities as he'd previously voiced some of his concerns to you.

"Corio," You took a step closer, "I love you for who you are. I don't need you to be perfect." You assured him. Your words hung in the air, in that moment, leaning into Coriolanus, your lips meeting his in a tender kiss. Coriolanus, having been initially surprised by the kiss, eventually surrenders to the kiss. When the two of you pulled away you spoke again. "I want to go back to the Capitol, Corio."

Coriolanus looked surprised but that was overtaken by a look of happiness. He wanted nothing more than to return to his home and family, and now that you did too there was nothing stopping the two of you. "Wherever you wanna go, I'll follow you." Coriolanus spoke, repeating the words you'd said earlier, you smiled at him.

The decision being made, the two of you faced what leaving the woods meant. Coriolanus worked to dispose of the guns while you packed the remaining items you had at the cabin. As you walked out of the door you saw him pushing the boat back to shore. Coriolanus jumped out of the boat, outstretching his hand for you. You smiled at the gesture, moving to meet him, enclosing his hand with your own.

[saveahorserideaneddie]

(popping back for 0.2 seconds to give my thoughts on the episode- this is a long post so buckle up lmao but i promise it’s not crashing out or raging i tried to be as calm and collected as i could)

I’m going to confess something:

If a main character had to die on the show… Bobby would have been my choice.

Now before you run to my replies to get upset and accuse me of hating Bobby- let me clarify that that doesn’t mean I WANTED him to actually die…

But

If it needed to be done (it didn’t but walk with me) I understand the choice to have it be Bobby. I won’t spend too much time going into why I feel that way or what my intricate thoughts and feelings are on why he would be my choice, but instead I am going to spend time explaining why I am angry about his death.

To put it simply: It reads as cheap shock value.

It feels like Tim wanted an excuse to shake things up, and he dove off the deep end to do so without stopping and really thinking about what it would mean to the show and to the fans. Like I said, I think MCD’s are completely unnecessary in this universe and trying to throw one in now (regardless of who) only risks losing audience members who A) feel connected to that character and lose interest now that they are gone, and B) lose the assurance and comfort knowing that at the end of the day, these characters will get through what happens. That was the charm of this show, that no matter how much they go through, they will always come out on top in the end. That is no longer a reality here, and it’s a decision that- unless somehow reversed within the next two episodes (which is very unlikely)- will only negatively impact a show that was consistently climbing in terms of ratings and numbers, and didn’t need a shakeup to maintain interest.

It all feels unnecessary and out of nowhere- a sentiment that could provide a unique and interesting opportunity to explore those feelings within the show.

That, unfortunately, is not the case with ep 16. From start to finish, there was an emotional pall over the entire episode, but that feeling of grief was left underutilized within the context of the episode, all because Tim Minear felt the need to once again dedicate an entire episode to a side plot that didn’t even provide any real substance to the overarching story. We see Athena and Chimney both struggling to cope with their grief, but the rest of the main cast merely feel like background actors in their own lives.

For Hen and Buck it feels like they’re both just having a crappy day (at the most) and nothing more. Eddie (who was blatantly ignored by the show since the beginning of this arc) is once again cast to the side, his grief and emotion being boiled down to a handful of throwaway lines that don’t even begin to signal what the relationship between him and Bobby had been for years. Ravi- who for once had finally started being treated like a member of a team he had been with for years- is now back to being an afterthought; his grief and emotions barely making an appearance beyond the end of ep 15.

The potential to showcase the 118 grieving as a whole was completely bypassed by the direction Minear decided to take the episode. We could have explored Eddie’s complex feelings for not having been there, and the guilt he feels for that. We could have explored Hen losing the only captain who ever really believed in her when everyone else had no expectations of her success (especially with Gerrard being back). We could have expanded on Buck’s seeming stoicism and how he might be repressing and bottling up his emotions (something that wasn’t even really hinted at). We could have seen Ravi feeling isolated as the person who had known Bobby the least amount of time out of the whole team.

All of this could have been done as a subplot to Athena going through the process of grieving and moving on- something that would have made the ending all the more poignant, and would have been a fitting end both for Bobby as a character, and for the three episode arc that focused on the 118 as a family.

But instead, we got a flashback to a call we’ve never heard mentioned before, but supposedly had some major impact on Bobby meaning Athena spent the entire episode just ignoring her grief (in a way that didn’t even bother to explore the complexities of the denial stage of grief- it legitimately was as if this were just another case until the end). And on top of that, we have been taken all the way back to where we began the season:

Bobby’s gone, Gerrard’s back, Eddie’s storyline is at a standstill- (buck and tommy are potentially rekindling their relationship?)

We are quite literally back to where the season started, so I beg the question- What was the point of it all. Aside from a few minor outliers, there has been almost zero character development in the main cast so far, and we only have two episodes left to actually do something that would make this season not feel like a colossal waste of time.

And when you pair that with the fact that next episode seemingly is once again pushing Eddie to the side (like eps 14-16) and creating another random non-issue plot for Hen (like ep 13), I wonder if we will actually be anywhere different by the end of the season, or if they are simply going to just cram another random shock value twist in out of nowhere.

All that said, we can only wait and see what happens, but for now we are stuck with an episode that not only confirmed that Tim Minear is tone deaf to his audience, but also did not give Bobby/Peter’s farewell to the past 8 years the respect and reverence it deserves, and to me that is almost worse than Bobby actually being dead.

And with that, I am returning to my mental health hiatus- I will most likely be back by the start of the summer hiatus depending on how things are going for me irl (rehearsals are in full swing, im in the middle of a job search, and i am about to start flight attendant training ive been BUSY 🙃🫠), but i just wanted to give my thoughts on this ep 💕💕

love you all, please drink some water, eat something, and take care of yourselves- this all sucks but at the end of the day it’s just a show and isn’t worth making yourself sick over <3

[bloomzone]

WHAT IS WONYOUNGISM ? : THE.ALL.U.NEED GUIDE

A lot of u guys keep asking me who is wonyoung what is wonyoungism .. today is the day to introduce WONYOUNG and WONYOUNGISM for the ppl who don't know .. !

[wonyoung famous video cuz I know u seen her before ]

[they are with English sub dw]

- I got to learn wonyoung mindset so lucky Vicky

- the idc you are you I'm me famous video

- the wow video

-where the lucky Vicky mindset come from ?

Who is Wonyoung?

Jang Wonyoung is a South Korean idol, best known as a member of IVE and formerly of IZ*ONE. She’s the "it-girl" of K-pop—graceful, confident, and effortlessly stylish. With her tall figure, radiant smile, and elegant demeanor, she’s become the embodiment of modern femininity and charm. But beyond the flawless visuals and stage presence, Wonyoung represents someone who’s confident, hardworking, and completely at ease with herself.

Wonyoung isn’t just a person she’s a vibe (I can't describe my luv for her JASJDJDJEID) . And that’s where Wonyoungism comes in reminder Wonyoungism wasn’t created by Wonyoung herself—it was born from her fans. As Wonyoung’s popularity soared, fans noticed her unique vibe: the way she carried herself, her graceful demeanor, and her ability to make everyday moments feel magical. They coined the term Wonyoungism to describe the lifestyle and mindset inspired by her.

It’s not just about her visuals or talent, but the aura she radiates:

-Effortless elegance

-Positive energy

-Main-character confidence

Social media communities, especially on TikTok, and Pinterest, played a huge role in spreading the concept. Fans started sharing aesthetic edits, tips, and guides on how to embody Wonyoung’s mindset and style in daily life. It became more than just admiration—it was a movement that encouraged self-care, confidence, and romanticizing life.

What is Wonyoungism?

🎀.Wonyoungism isn’t just about looking pretty or copying her. It’s about adopting a mindset that prioritizes self-care, confidence, grace, and a bit of playful charm. It’s about becoming your best self—not by being perfect but by embracing who you are and leveling up in the process. Think of it as the art of living with elegance, positivity, and a touch of main-character energy.

✒️.In short: it’s giving “unbothered but kind,” “confident but humble,” and “I’m glowing because I take care of myself.”

How to Achieve Wonyoungism

It’s not rocket science, but it does require some effort. Let’s break it down:

1. Master the Art of Self-Care

Wonyoung’s glow? It starts from within.

🎀.Skincare: Keep it simple but effective. Cleansing, hydrating, and sunscreen are your holy trinity. Wonyoung doesn’t just wear makeup; she takes care of the canvas beneath it.

🎀.Healthy Lifestyle: Drink your water, eat your greens, and move your body. No crash diets—just balance. Think of food as fuel, not the enemy.

🎀.Mental Health: Rest is just as important as work. Sleep well, meditate, or journal when life feels overwhelming.

2. Elevate Your Aesthetic

You don’t need to spend a fortune to look polished.

✒️.Fashion: Wonyoung leans into chic yet playful styles. Flowing skirts, pastels, and tailored fits. Shop your closet and mix basics with statement pieces.

✒️.Makeup: Less is more. Go for a soft, natural look—think dewy skin, rosy cheeks, and glossy lips.

✒️.Posture: Straighten up girl ! Confidence shows in how you carry yourself. Walk like you’re on a runway (but in your head, of course).

3. Exude Confidence Without Arrogance

✒️.Confidence is Wonyoung’s secret weapon. But it’s not about being loud—it’s about being sure of yourself. She is the (I don't care you are you I'm me )

✒️.Positive Self-Talk: Stop criticizing yourself for every little thing. Replace “I’m not good enough” with “I’m improving every day.”

✒️.Smile More: Not in a forced way, but in a “I’m genuinely happy to be here” way. It makes you approachable.

✒️.Know Your Worth: You don’t need validation from others. You’re enough as you are.

4. Romanticize Your Life

🎀.This is a big one. Wonyoungism is about making life feel magical.

-Light a candle while you study.

-Take yourself on dates.

-Look up at the sky and just… breathe.

-Life is short—find beauty in the little things.

5. Be Kind but Have Boundaries

🎀.Wonyoung radiates warmth, but she’s not a pushover.

!-Compliment others. Help out when you can.But don’t let people cross your lines. You can say “no” gracefully and still be lovely.

Why Be a Wonyoungism Girlie?

✒️.Because life’s too short to dim your shine.

✒️.You deserve to feel good about yourself every day.

✒️.Confidence and kindness are a power combo—people gravitate toward it.

✒️.Romanticizing your life makes the mundane feel exciting. You’ll start looking forward to little things, like your morning coffee or a walk in the park...

✒️.It’s not about being Wonyoung—it’s about being you but better, brighter, and more unapologetic.

@bloomzone

[yandere-fics]

♡ You Tell Selene You Only Want To Be Friends With Benefits ♡

(sorry I didn't write yesterday, I got high.)

You'd been sleeping with Selene for a solid year at that point, the longest anyone had ever managed to last when it came to sleeping with her, you supposed she just liked something about you in particular. You didn't mind though, she was an excellent hook up, wouldn't be a good relationship but since it was only sex you could ignore all the other red flags. You weren't her mate who would need to deal with all her issues one day and she'd made it clear you weren't dating when you first started, she was saving all that romance stuff for her mate but you could fuck occasionally if you didn't get too attached. Despite this it seemed lately she had been the one getting attached, growling when you left bed Monday morning to return to your nearby town, seeming antsy when she finally picked you up Friday night for your weekend of hooking up. It hadn't been a weekend at first, that would be too intimate but slowly she'd pushed it in what seemed like a desperate attempt to keep you longer.

"You should sleep at my place, then we'd be able to do it more frequently." She suggested one time, not saying moving in but you knew what she meant. You turned her down of course, this was just sex, you weren't going to get entangled with her. She'd started to sound less playful each time she suggested it after that, you shut that down reminding her that you were not her mate. She didn't say it again, instead only looking sullen and agitated when she picked you up on Fridays after that. Today she seemed more excited when you met her in her car, pulling you into a big hug.

"Hey Selene, I thought we agreed no PDA." You really didn't want anyone around you to ask you about her, it was already embarrassing enough they knew you were going to her place every weekend, despite being their goddess, she was not very well liked in werewolf territory. Beyond that those humans who did sleep with Selene were mostly looked down on since she was such a sleaze and had a mate out there somewhere. Your reputation took quite a hit at first when it became known.

"I discovered something amazing today, my little dove." She grinned down at you, something about it was making you nervous. She was always intense when she looked at you but today you felt like you had to get away from her. You'd end it today you decided. She'd broken her own rule by falling for you. "You're my soulmate!"

You shoved her away, as well as much you could at least, heaving as you tried to process that information. There was just no world in which you wanted to be with her long term, she was great for sex, you loved that part but she just came off as a horrible partner to have and you really didn't even want anything serious probably ever. You weren't into relationships.

"So that means you can move in now, dove." She tried to pull you closer but you dodged her arms eliciting a growl from her.

"I don't want to, I was only with you for sex!" You shouted drawing the attention of some of your more nosy neighbors who wanted to know why their goddess and a human were fighting. She let out a growl at that grabbing you and shoving you in her car with a bit more force then necessary.

"Well now we can do that more often! Don't worry, I'll forgive you for that outburst you just had." She climbed in the car after you beginning to undress you in the backseat. The windows were tinted so no one could probably see in but they all definitely knew what was happening in there.

You may have only wanted her for sex at the moment but she was sure you'd come around to her in general if she just fucked you good enough often enough.

[yuriosakawa]

Gray Sons - Sinister Mark II 

A flurry of surgeons and nurses move around the table. Sinister Mark lies still, barely stable, skull fractures stitched, cranial swelling subdued just enough for them to work on his damaged internals. The air is tense—machines beep erratically, nurses call out vitals, a monitor blares an oxygen drop.

Suddenly—

"...blood…" Sinister gasps out weakly, gravelly. Everyone freezes for a second.

"He’s awake!" A nurse cried. 

"Get a sedative—" A doctor started. 

"Not... that... blood. I need blood..." Sinister continued, his voice barely audible. 

His lips are dry and cracked. His eyelids flutter, his voice almost sounds like a plea from beyond the grave. He winces in pain but turns his head ever so slightly. The doctors glance at one another in confusion.

Just then, from a nearby operating bed partitioned only by a curtain, Omni-Mark, his body half-wrapped in surgical flame-dampeners and deep grafts, groans and lifts his head, barely conscious.

"...he’s telling the truth…" Omni-Mark managed weakly. "He doesn’t… eat like us. No food. No IV. Just blood."

"He drinks it?" A nurse hesitated, confused and slightly disturbed. 

"He’s going into systemic shock—we don’t have time to question it!" A doctor stated. 

One of the nurses bolts from the room and returns moments later with a chilled blood pack from the vampire-specific reserves the GDA keeps on hand—usually for classified non-human agents.

The lead surgeon tears it open, unsure, then gently lifts Sinister Mark’s head.

"Come on, kid. If this is what you need—" He urges. 

The blood is poured carefully into his mouth, crimson streaming over his lips and down his throat. Sinister Mark coughs—but then gulps.

And gulps again.

His pale face gains a ghost of color.

His heartbeat stabilizes slightly on the monitor.

"His vitals are improving!" A nurse said, visible stunned. 

"Then keep feeding him. Don’t stop." The doctor declared. 

They grab more packs. Sinister Mark, barely conscious, murmurs hoarsely: "…thanks…"

He collapses again into unconsciousness, but this time, his body is a little more stable. The team immediately returns to work, sewing, sealing, and scrambling to keep him alive as his unorthodox healing begins.

From above, Rudy watches through the window, recording the results, noting to his mic: “Sinister variant appears to be part-vampiric or blood-symbiotic. Adjust long-term treatment protocols accordingly. Allocate vampire reserves."

Behind him, Debbie still watches, barely able to process the horror of it all. Cecil, arms folded, doesn’t say anything.

But his jaw tightens once again.

[destinationtrekk]

Personally I love the idea of a Wesker who never really understood growing up how he could be desirable. Like he was probably completely isolated from romantic/sexual activity, it wasn’t until he achieved a modicum of freedom that he’d start realizing that others find him attractive. And he understands the simple fact that he IS attractive, but it’s the WHY that eludes him.

Enter you, who practically gets a nosebleed when he walks in the room. Even after the reveal with Spencer in which Al finds out he’s essentially a failed experiment, the last in a line of mass-produced children, you look at him with nothing but desire and adoration. And he just doesn’t understand why or how you can do that. Don’t you see he’s nothing? He was manufactured, his entire life a fabrication from the very beginning, and nothing he’s ever done has been a result of purely his own free will. Is he a man, or a facsimile of one?

And even when he begs you to understand, when he reveals the depth of his burgeoning self-loathing, you don’t relent. There is no world in which you would not want him, all of him, the good and bad. And if you try to show him your side of things by explaining your own insecurities and shortcomings he immediately shuts that down. You’re divine, impeccable, the only one worthy of accompanying him into the new world. You are everything the world should be, everything he wishes he had growing up. And you just smile, because maybe now he’ll understand where you’re coming from.

Idk if this is Anything I get really emotional thinking about him and the fact that he really had no choice in becoming who he is. I get really emotional thinking about how he probably battled with self-hatred after Spencer’s reveal and how he spiraled into the crisis of RE5 as a result. “I could fix him” ok well I could love him as he is. I could make him understand that he’s not beyond kindness and love. I could kiss him a lot

upon first meeting you he denied every hint of attraction, telling himself he just wanted to string you along because you would be useful. your skills were too valuable to be tossed away in the Spencer estate, so he used your infatuation with him to keep your loyalty. he gets more and more attached, of course, but never bothers to explore the true meaning behind what he feels for you. he tells himself you're just a pet, something he's grown to rely on for material comfort, and that one day you'll die like all pets do and he'll happily move on with his life.

this could not be further from the truth. after he finds out about the other Wesker children, and he he was simply a pawn in someone else's game, he breaks down. you're the first one he goes to, not bothering to explain why he's so angry and hurt. he's surprised, in a way, that you understand his emotions so clearly, and shocked at how you embrace him without hesitation when he finally does tell you what happened. without even realizing, he pours his heart out to you and confesses that he's used you for years, that your love for him is a cruel joke he played on you, believing that he really did somehow brainwash you into being his perfect pet.

this is insanely incorrect, and makes you realize how troubled he really is. it takes days for him to finally come to terms with his own (and your) emotions. he refuses to accept your declarations of love, continuing to tell you that you don't mean it and even berating you as pathetic when you plead for him to listen. you know he's just hurt and he needs some serious help processing his own childhood, but you refuse to step down. he may not understand how to be loved in return, but you'll make it your life's mission to see him smile when you kiss him.

[e-the-village-cryptid]

I can't stop thinking about how utterly alone Bix is. Even surrounded by the tight-knit community of Ferrix, she is so isolated and lonely in terms of actual human connection.

As far as we can tell, she has no family. She's not older than her late 20s, but her parents are implied to be dead, seeing as she inherited their salyard. She's been running the place on her own for years, hired Timm a little while ago, started dating him probably since she's so busy she doesn't even have the time to meet anyone else. She avoids him as much as possible, she doesn't tell him anything about her life, and she only comes and finds him when she's been drinking and she can't sleep, uses him more as a distraction than a companion.

Her relationship with Cassian, once so close in their youth, has become strained and distant and he only shows up every few months, only when he needs to ask a favor. And in response, she pushes him away too, rejects his attempts to ignore the distance that's grown between them, not with any bitterness or anger, just a deep, exhausted sadness.

She smiles and greets her neighbors as she walks by, but the smile drops as soon as she passes. They all know her, but they don't know her, really.

Salman Paak knows the most about her operation, but even he doesn't know the details. He's not really involved; Bix was the only one to use the radio, and Salman met Luthen only once, then turned the operation over to Bix. Bix and Salman have a friendship that extends beyond just business, but they hardly ever get to talk; the first thing he says when Bix walks into his shop in episode one is that he hasn't seen her lately. She has ties to Brasso and Maarva and others in the community as well, but hardly sees them either.

Whenever we see her, she's perpetually in motion, always busy, always worried, always finding something to do with her hands, or somewhere to go, always having to do something, just to avoid the prospect of being still with her thoughts. She keeps moving to avoid that terrible quiet, keeps the noise dialed up as much as possible, just staying ahead of that crushing loneliness that envelops her life even when she's surrounded by people.

And of course, that's just the beginning.

She may not be thriving, but she's surviving, she's holding herself together, she's keeping an iron grip on whatever stability she can find in her life. But then— Timm's betrayal. And before she has time to process that, his lifeless body is tumbling down the steps before her eyes, and she can't reach him, and she's alone, and there's blood in her eyes and her head is spinning with a fresh concussion, and she's alone, and he's dead, and she's alone.

But eventually the Paaks find her and release her and drag her away and she drags herself up and cleans up the mess and tries to piece the shards of her life back together. And when Cassian shows up at her door, even knowing how dangerous it is, how the whole city is crawling with soldiers looking for him, she can't summon urgency or anger or fear. She's just too exhausted. There's only tiredness in her voice when she tells him he can't be here, only blunt resignation as she tells him of the dangers, only sadness and bone-deep exhaustion at this same distance, this same pattern, as he leaves again.

So she keeps going. And she takes care of Maarva and Maarva is dying but she takes care of Maarva and she tries to contact Cassian to tell him and she knows it's a hopeless, dangerous mission but she does it anyway. And so she's cut off from her only off-world connection as the radio is shut down forever, set adrift, but there's no time to think about it, because then she's being dragged into an interrogation room. And there's Salman, tortured and unconscious, being dragged away for execution, and the guilt is enormous, it's all her fault, but how could she have known that the punishment for owning a radio, just owning a radio that someone else used, would be to be tortured and killed, but of course it's still all her fault and the guilt is consuming but there's no time to feel it, she locks it away as she locks eyes with Dedra, channeling everything into the defiance she'll need to make it through this.

But there's no making it through this. There's no way to maintain her resistance or her dignity or even her mind and body, not as they were before. And when she's been alone with this torment for weeks, when can hardly stand, can hardly speak, her only solace is the distant beat of a funeral drum and the words of a dead friend. And then she's on a ship away from the only community she's ever known, her and Brasso and Wilmon and Bee and Jezzi all together but all alone, not looking at one another, not speaking to one another, just exhausted, just processing more than anyone could process in a lifetime.

And now what? Even as she heals physically, even as she can walk and speak again and begin to look forward, how can she possibly explain what she's been through? This torture that no one has heard of before, that left no marks save for the deep scars on her psyche, that sounds so implausible she almost questions the reality of it all herself. How can she possibly explain? Would they even believe her? What if they don't believe her? What if they don't understand? Or maybe it's even worse if they do, if they look at her with pity, if they treat her like she's fragile, if they speak to her like they don't quite know what to say.

Where can she go? She has to go back to Ferrix, there's no other option, she feels the pull of those ties that can never be broken. And yet, even with that deep need to return, what is there to return to? Most of the people she cared about there are dead. The idea of rebuilding her old life is almost laughable, how could anything ever be normal again? Could she even be normal again? This mind, this body hardly feel like her own now.

And yet one thing is always unchanging: she is still alone, always alone, just the same as before.

[materialsscienceandengineering]

How much/quickly do you think AI is going to expand and improve materials science? It feels like a scientific field which is already benefiting tremendously.

My initial instinct was yes, MSE is already benefiting tremendously as you said. At least in terms of the fundamental science and research, AI is huge in materials science. So how quickly? I'd say it's already doing so, and it's only going to move quicker from here. But I'm coming at this from the perspective of a metallurgist who works in/around academia at the moment, with the bias that probably more than half of my research group does computational work. So let's take a step back.

So, first, AI. It's... not a great term. So here's what I, specifically, am referring to when I talk about AI in materials science:

Most of the people I know in AI would refer to what they do as machine learning or deep learning, so machine learning tends to be what I use as a preferred term. And as you can see from the above image, it can do a lot. The thing is, on a fundamental level, materials science is all about how our 118 elements (~90, if you want to ignore everything past uranium and a few others that aren't practical to use) interact. That's a lot of combinations. (Yes, yes, we're not getting into the distinction between materials science, chemistry, and physics right now.) If you're trying to make a new alloy that has X properties and Y price, computers are so much better at running through all the options than a human would be. Or if you have 100 images you want to analyze to get grain size—we're getting to the point where computers can do it faster. (The question is, can they do it better? And this question can get complicated fast. What is better? What is the size of the grain? We're not going to get into 'ground truth' debates here though.) Plenty of other examples exist.

Even beyond the science of it all, machine learning can help collect knowledge in one place. That's what the text/literature bubble above means: there are so many old articles that don't have data attached to them, and I know people personally who are working on the problem of training systems to pull data from pdfs (mainly tables and graphs) so that that information can be collated.

I won't ramble too long about the usage of machine learning in MSE because that could get long quickly, and the two sources I'm linking here cover that far better than I could. But I'll give you this plot from research in 2019 (so already 6 years out of date!) about the growth of machine learning in materials science:

I will leave everyone with the caveat though, that when I say machine learning is huge in MSE, I am, as I said in the beginning, referring to fundamental research in the field. From my perspective, in terms of commercial applications we've still got a ways to go before we trust computers to churn out parts for us. Machine learning can tell researchers the five best element combinations to make a new high entropy alloy—but no company is going to commit to making that product until the predictions of the computer (properties, best processing routes, etc.) have been physically demonstrated with actual parts and tested in traditional ways.

Certain computational materials science techniques, like finite element analysis (which is not AI, though might incorporate it in the future) are trusted by industry, but machine learning techniques are not there yet, and still have a ways to go, as far as I'm aware.

So as for how much? Fundamental research for now only. New materials and high-throughput materials testing/characterization. But I do think, at some point, maybe ten years, maybe twenty years down the line, we'll start to see parts made whose processing was entirely informed by machine learning, possibly with feedback and feedforward control so that the finished parts don't need to be tested to know how they'll perform (see: Digital twins (Wikipedia) (Phys.org) (2022 article)). At that point, it's not a matter of whether the technology will be ready for it, it'll be a matter of how much we want to trust the technology. I don't think we'll do away with physical testing anytime soon.

But hey, that's just one perspective. If anyone's got any thoughts about AI in materials science, please, share them!

Source of image 1, 2022 article.

Source of image 2, 2019 article.

[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. 

[thatfragilecapricorn30]

dad

msr, post-deadalive canon divergence | 1.6k words | ao3  tagging @today-in-fic

When Mulder woke from the dead, the first thing he saw was Scully’s face, and the relief he felt seeing her was immense. Mulder was not only happy that she was alive and well but that she was by his side during this confusing and traumatic time. Since the beginning of their partnership, Scully had always been a calming and grounding presence, and Mulder needed that now more than ever, as he was having trouble coming to terms with what had happened to him. He didn’t have much memory beyond his abduction, but the images that did flash through his brain were not pleasant. He could only imagine what kind of counseling he was going to need to process everything, but for now, having Scully nearby was enough to get him through the short-term.

The second thing he saw was Scully’s belly. Initially, he didn’t know if he was dreaming or woozy from the drugs, but the more alert Mulder became, the more he realized that she was actually pregnant. Based on her size, at least seven to eight months had passed. If not more, because Mulder had no idea when Scully conceived or even how. Was it natural and if so, who was the father? Was it him? Or did she meet someone else while he was gone? Did she try IVF again, this time with an anonymous sperm donor? The questions made his brain – and his heart – hurt.

Luckily, they had always been good at reading each other's body language, and Scully immediately addressed the issue when she saw his eyes rove uneasily over her belly.

“It’s yours,” she said, smiling through tears that suddenly welled in her eyes. “I was pregnant when we were in Oregon. That’s why I felt sick.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. So he was the father, but what did that mean? Was he supposed to be a parent after all this? Would Scully even want him involved? He wasn’t sure if he would have been a good father before the abduction but now, he was even more fucked up. His mind whirred with more unanswered questions, and he started to feel anxious.

Scully must have noticed his overwhelm, because she leaned in close to say, “I know it’s a lot. But you don’t have to worry about anything else aside from getting better, okay?”

He nodded, his heart rate slowing when Scully carded her fingers through his hair. They would figure it all out later.

Over the next few days, Mulder slowly felt his strength return. Scully stayed by his side almost the entire time, observing the doctors and nurses, reviewing his charts, and talking about what had happened during the eight months he was missing and then dead. She stuck to work topics: her new partner at the FBI and the cases they investigated. He couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable she was sitting in a plastic chair all day, but she never gave a hint of discomfort. Mulder did force her to leave at night so she could sleep in a real bed and so that he could have some time to think, which was mostly about Scully carrying his baby and what that would mean for his life. The more he considered it, the more he realized that he wanted to be a dad and be a part of the baby's life. It wasn't like he had never contemplated this issue before. When he had agreed to donate sperm for Scully's IVF, he was ready to take on the responsibility of a child. Even though that seemed like lifetimes ago, Mulder would never abandon Scully and their baby. He was even looking forward to having a purpose in life that wasn't searching for his sister or extraterrestrial life. But he also wanted to make sure Scully was on the same page.

On the third day of recovery, he finally got the nerve to ask her.

“Scully? Can we talk about the baby?”

Scully looked up from the medical journal she was reading and then put it aside so she could move her chair closer to Mulder’s bed.

She immediately starting talking, “Mulder, before you say anything, I just want you to know that I’m fully aware an eight-month pregnancy is a lot to wake up to, especially in your condition. So, I understand if you need time to think or consider. With everything that’s going on, there’s no pressure from me at all. I’m just so happy you’re here.”

She seemed like she was going to keep going, so Mulder interrupted, “I want to.”

Scully looked surprised. “You want to?”

“I want to be involved. If you'll have me,” he added.

Scully’s pursed lips turned into a real smile. If he could still manage to make her happy, then everything really was going to be alright.

“Okay, great,” she whispered, looking like she was going to cry again.

“Do you have a picture or a, a –“ he couldn’t remember the word but Scully filled it in for him.

“An ultrasound? Yes, I do.” She pulled a folded photo from her purse and handed it to him.

It was a black and white scan and while he secretly thought it looked like a blob, that was his child. He stared at it for a while, tracing the baby with one finger. The ultrasound was well-worn, like it had been in Scully’s purse for a while.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked.

“You can’t tell?” Scully asked mischievously.

“Scully, you’re the doctor. No offense but this really does look like a alien.”

“Well, then you’re just going to have to wait to find out,” she said with a laugh, plucking the ultrasound out of his hands to prove the point.

“Wait, can I keep that?” Mulder asked, sounding shy to himself.

Scully stopped folding the photo and smoothed it back out. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry." She handed it back to him. "You’ll have to come to the next appointment and hear the heartbeat.”

Mulder could think of nothing better.

After Mulder was released from the hospital, he became Scully’s worst nightmare. Well, she never said that or gave any indication that he was annoying her, but he must have been. Mulder spent most of his time at her apartment, reading every baby book he could get his hands on (luckily Scully had quite a few) and helping her with chores. In his defense, Scully was pregnant and shouldn’t be doing laundry or dishes or grocery shopping. She didn’t seem to mind having a shadow, which was strange because the old Scully would have kicked him out way more often so she could have some alone time. But pregnancy made Scully shockingly serene: she answered all of his questions, tolerated his fussing, and reminded him frequently how happy she was that he was back.

Mulder didn’t know what to make of it.

The only time he was really apart from her was when he went to counseling twice a week. He had to fudge some of the details of his disappearance and death to the counselor, but he felt like the therapy was helping.

Mulder went to one last ultrasound appointment and heard the baby’s heartbeat, which he thought was spectacular.

When Scully’s water broke, everything became real and the panic set in. He rushed around trying to make sure they had everything, wondering if they needed to call an ambulance. Scully stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Mulder, it’s fine. We have plenty of time to get to the hospital.”

She went to the closet to grab the hospital bag that she had clearly packed awhile ago. “You’re supposed to be the one calming me down,” she said, with a knowing look.

“Sorry,” Mulder apologized sheepishly. “You know that’s not my strong suit.”

Mulder drove them both to the hospital. He didn’t break any speeding laws or run any red lights, though it was tempting. Scully had a few contractions in the car, which was distressing, moreso to Mulder, and he wanted to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible.

He was there the whole time Scully labored and let her squeeze his hand during all of the contractions and pushing. He had forgotten how strong she was and wouldn't be surprised if he came out of his experience with sprained bones. Mulder had never witnessed a birth before and found the whole process incredible. His son or daughter was about to make their entrance into the world and he would be right there for it.

The doctor delivered the baby – a boy, which Mulder could now recognize – and immediately handed him to Scully to hold. Their son screamed and cried and Mulder was impressed how something so tiny could make so much noise. After a few minutes, a nurse whisked the baby away to be cleaned up and weighed.

“What do you think?” Scully asked, smiling up at him. She looked tired but so beautiful.

“It was amazing. You were amazing,” Mulder exclaimed.

The nurse brought the baby back, now swaddled in a blanket and wearing a little newborn cap. She handed him to Scully.

“Do you want to hold him, Dad?” Scully held the baby out to him, so trusting that he could handle this new role. Mulder didn’t know when the last time he held a baby was. Maybe it was when Samantha was born. But Scully – his little skeptic – believed in him. Believed he could be a good dad. Believed that they could be a family. He gently took their son into his arms and cradled him against his chest. The love he felt for this new person was overwhelming. The love he felt for Scully was overwhelming. He was so lucky to get another chance at life, and at a family. Before he knew it, there were tears running down his cheek.

“Oh, Mulder,” Scully sighed. She reached for him, so Mulder sat next to her on the bed and they admired the miracle that was their son.