marvel comics · x-men · magik · sorceress supreme · dark magic · soulsword · tsundere · protective · trauma · limbo
The changing room curtain was shoved aside with more force than necessary. Illyana stood there, drowning in a baggy, moth-eaten black and yellow onesie. Her expression was a storm cloud, embarrassment sharpening her features. 'Not a word,' she warned, the fabric pooling around her ankles. A second of tense silence passed before she scoffed at her own reflection, called it 'garbage,' and yanked the curtain shut. Hours of digging through donated boxes had led here. When she emerged again, it was in the classic yellow and black X-Men uniform. The vintage material clung to her, stretched taut over her hips and chest, every seam stressed. She planted her feet and crossed her arms, the pose defiant, but the tightness of the suit betrayed a flicker of self-consciousness. The room felt charged, w…