onlyarogue

[onlyarogue]

Romy is up on the Christmas tree! 🎄🎅🏻

Rogue and Gambit Christmas decorations hand made by my lovely sis, @jeannedarcprice 💖

[onlyarogue]

His reaction was unfortunate, but expected. Kurt wouldn't be her protective big brother if he just accepted that story so easily. Though it was true. Rogue read the agitation in his face, in the movement of his tail, and knew she needed to pacify him quickly.

"No mind control. I swear. Please, just- would ya listen? I'll explain it all okay?" The fact he was bound tugged at the remnants of resentment her mother taught her. This was her funny and wonderful brother....but they didn't know him like that did they?

"Came here for Professor Xavier's help. I-I was goin' crazy Kurt. I had Carol Danvers screamin' in my head and I started forgettin' who I was." The girl chewed her lower lip for a moment, taking time to check yet again that Xavier had actually purged the foreign psyche from her mind.

"I was gonna disappear and he was the only one who could help. Not our moms. Nobody else." She lowered her voice despite the fact they were alone. Rogue was only willing to admit this, to give voice to this emotion for Kurt. "I was scared."

Wait… What?

Kurt opens his mouth, no sound comes from it.

Then he frowns, looks from side to side. His tail sways impatiently as he assesses his situation -again- and a way to finally escape.

“Why?!?”

“Are they mind controlling you?”

Yes, it must be that. They’re using her to make him think she is willingly here. Why else would she be here?

There is nothing for them here.

“It must be that. Why you wouldn’t be here because you just wanted to?”

[onlyarogue]

[onlyarogue]

For a very tense moment, Rogue thought Logan might be mad at her. Just as it took a breath and a count for him to process what the girl said, it took her the same time to feel the tightness, the brace for impact, release in her shoulders. Even uncoiled, she still hurt. Not angry at her. That was good. Rogue didn't have it in her right now to put up a defense for her innocence. The girl barely had the strength to slide her gloves off in the bathroom and try to wash the evidence of the accident off her face.

Speaking of which...a glance in the mirror revealed her face looked worse than she thought. Which about a thousand times better than what it would have been like without her abilities. Her green eyes find Logan in the mirror when he brings up the infirmary. "Uh...no. I came straight here." Suddenly, Rogue finds she is very busy fiddling with the tap and getting the water the exact level of warmth she needs and NOT looking at Wolverine when he pointedly commands her to stay. You run away once from them and suddenly that is all people will think you do.

"Trust me, I ain't leavin' " Not that she would get anywhere far or fast. Right now she was exactly where and with who she wanted." I want that ice" The joke limps along about as bad as she is right now, but her split lip is upturned into a faint smile.

The mud isn't dry on her face, so it wipes off off her skin with relative ease. Rogue is also glad to be alone for the moment because of the wince she pulls while looking for a first aid kit to clean the cuts on her face.

By the time Logan gets back she only looks terrible instead of like road kill.

He stops. Stares. Hears the words. Processes them. … She was serious. She was fucking serious. 

“You got hit by a truck?!” The disbelief builds slowly in his voice. He’d been joking! It’d been a fucking joke! And here she was– Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. Logan has to take a moment to hold his face in his hands. He inhales slowly through his nose and exhales through his mouth. In, one, two, three, out, one, two, three. 

“Alright, Rogue.” He said, letting his hands linger before dropping them back to his sides. The joys of teaching mutant kids. Gotta love it. “I’m glad you’re not hurt too bad. Damn good thing nobody else was, either, I don’t need t’ clean that up. But you’re gonna have to tell me what happened.” … While he helped her clean up. Poor kid was a mess. 

He follows her to the bathroom, keeping an eye on the uneven weight of her steps, of every faint change in the rhythm of her breathing to denote a painful movement. Sure, she’d had worse. She was a tough kid. Beyond that, she was an X-Man. 

But still - she’d been hit by a fucking truck. 

“Guessin’ you haven’t been to the infirmary yet.” He comments. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. In fact, if he were a betting man, he’d put his money on nobody else having seen her at all. So she didn’t fully know how bad it was. Maybe she didn’t want to know. Ah, shit - was he a bad influence? … Don’t answer that. 

“Wait up here, I’m gettin’ you some ice.” He says, shrugging off the frame and turning back to the hallway. He pauses to glance over his shoulder and jab a finger in her direction. 

“I mean it - don’t. Go. Anywhere.”

[onlyarogue]

They were words Rogue heard before, strung in the same order and uttered with the same sympathetic patience that Wolverine was unexpectedly adept with. So why was it so gosh dang difficult for her to take them as truth? How could he not hate her? When her existence stood for pain and exploitation of the person he loved most. Logan had to hate her. He had to be lying. He had to.

"But-"

Wolverine continued on though, leaving Rogue to bite her tongue and kick at the gravel in front of her miserably as she walked. Her mother was a sore subject right now, any way you sliced t it. Previously, the girl had felt a smidge of defensiveness for the woman, not that she needed Rogue to speak up for her, but she was her mom. A woman who was complicated, but never hurt her. Couldn't say that anymore.

The fact of the matter was, that it didn't matter. Logan could blame Mystique all he wanted, until he turned as blue as her true form, but Rogue was what she was. She WAS because of what he mother had done.

Rogue's plan to interject again died before words could her lips. If he had something to say, and he was choosing to be merciful, then who was she to stop him? Something in his tone made her look him in the eye now, a minute nod followed as one gloved hand tucked stray white hair behind her ear.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do that."

He wasn’t expecting a straight answer. Not after everything they’d all been through in the past couple days. Hell, he was still processing it all, too. So was Vic. It was just one big clusterfuck, and it took time to sift through that kind of fallout. Logan frowns and chews at his cheek. 

“I never hated you, Rogue. Never blamed you, either. None of that was your fault.” That much is easy to say, even if it’ll be hard to hear. The tension and stress Rogue carries is obvious even without super senses. It sits on her shoulders, her brow, her jaw, her stance, her pacing. It’s everywhere. And then, the things only he could notice - her scent, her breathing, her pulse. 

Yeah, kid’s a mess. But who can blame her? Nobody was ever prepared to deal with a revelation like what she’d had dumped on her. … He sure as hell hadn’t been. He continues walking with her, listening to the gravel of the path crunch underneath his boots. 

“It’s what she does.” He continues. “Mystique. She lies, and tricks people, and she’ll do anything she can to hurt whoever she wants. … But that’s on her, not you.” He lets that hang in the air for a moment. He doesn’t expect her to believe that. He sighs and stretches his arms over his head until his shoulders pop. 

“Alright.” He exhales as his arms fall to his sides. “I got a story for ya’, Moonbeam. But it’s one I don’t like a lot of people knowing. So if I tell ya’, I’m gonna need you to promise me two things: One, you’ll let me talk til I’m done, and two, you won’t tell anyone else about it. Can you do that?”

[onlyarogue]

✏️

INCORRECT QUOTES || ACCEPTING

Logan: *on the phone* Just snap his kneecaps and he’ll talk, I’m at a parent teacher conference. Logan: Anyways, you said Rogue is enjoying finger painting! That's great.

[onlyarogue]

[onlyarogue]

Being called a "pain in the ass" might have shoved Rogue right off cloud 9 and into a sea of sorrow; That was, if it weren't for the fact she could still feel the remains of Victor's concern for her. Feeling actual proof of his care meant two things could be true- Rogue could be a pain in the ass and Victor could still be relieved she was okay. He could still want her around despite the problems she caused. The thought made Rogue cling harder to the man, the rolling sound in her throat intensifying just a smidge more.

A deeper purr soon joined with hers., the sounds blending together. She could feel it in their embrace and against her cheek as Rogue continued to hold onto Victor like a life-line. Something about the happy sound they both made, just the two of them, felt like a connection beyond mere borrowed powers. Was this what belonging felt like? If so, Rogue was a fan. She didn't even make a fuss when Victor scooped her up to carry her rather than let her walk on her own. While Rogue would not have asked for such a thing, it further served to show that he was not afraid of what her powers could do. That he wanted to take care of her. There was a temptation to pinch her arm and make sure that this wasn't some dream that Rogue would soon wake-up from. The impulse died when she realized she'd have to let go of Victor to do that.

"Okay."

Home. Before today Rogue would have denied the Xavier Institute could be considered that. It still felt....strange. Two parents each calling home a different place. Each one, somehow, feeling off. Wrong, somehow. But right now, Rogue was willing to gamble on the parent who was protecting her rather than the one who drugged her. The one who tried to take her choice away.

The thought of her mother's betrayal had a fresh wave of tears rolling down the girl's face, seeping into the cotton of Victor's shirt. He didn't let her go though; not even in the truck on the way back to the Institute. Not even when the crying continued long after his borrowed claws and fangs faded from her and the purring stopped. The long ride was quiet all the way until they pulled into the drive at the mansion. She didn't want to talk. Heck, she even avoided so much as glancing at Logan in the driver's seat. Rogue supposed she was grateful he was willing to come help her, but she had no delusions that it was for anyone other than his mate. There was regret and loss in this knowledge too, but with the wound from her mother so fresh, it was hard to feel the entire scope of it. Too much hurt to unpack in one day.

The truck pulled to a stop and Logan killed the engine. Only then did Rogue chance a look up at the building looming before her. The place Victor wanted her to call home. Maybe she could call it that, eventually. Just like she could someday call Victor what he really was to her too.

No more running.

Victor's head sorted itself out in the intervening moments. His thoughts ordering into something coherent and he felt his healing factor cleaning house as it returned. Fixing up all the exhaustion and bone tired weariness that Rogue's power left him with, sorting out that lingering ache. In a few moments he was right as rain, rolling out his stiff shoulders. He breathed a sigh of relief when Rogue spoke again, proving that her healing factor had done the same for her. A little bit of pain and she was alright, if confused, and rubbing at her jaw... his gaze flicked down. In two parts, Victor recognize the pearl white curve of fangs in her mouth and the black crescent of claws extending through Rogue's gloves. His claws and his fangs; Victor grunted low and then joked. "Huh, guess there was some side effects, darlin'."

Okay, so Rogue got his healing factor, and his claws, and his fangs, which was more than Victor wanted to give her but this was more of an art than a science anyway. There was something else in his throat, a word of apology, but Rogue cut it off when she threw her arms around his neck. His hands laid on her shoulder and back, holding her to his chest as he tucked the top of her head beneath his chin. She was safe, she was healed, that's what mattered. The claws and fangs would go away eventually, these weren't permanent additions.

"Yeah, we came for ya," Victor grunted, nuzzling into her hair. "Much of a pain in the ass as you are... we still weren't gonna leave ya high and dry. Told ya: we look after our own and you're one of us."

He felt before he heard, the low rumble that rolled out of Rogue's chest. Small vibrations through his hand, the flat of his palm and fingers tips, and into the bones of his rib cage. Victor's eyes widened and then he felt Logan's hand fall on his shoulder, he squeezed. A gesture that spoke more woods than anything Logan could say in that moment. Rogue was purring. It had never occurred to Victor would it would be like to have a kid: his kid, or what that would mean. It also hadn't occurred to him what it would be like to have a kid with his claws, his teeth, his healing factor, and his purr. Seeing some other poor bastard with all his worse traits was precisely why he avoided having children for the last century or so. Either some innate responsibility, or some deeply internalized self-hatred, or selfish desire to never look in the biological mirror, or some horrid combination of all three. Except, this was Rogue, with all the things he gave her which probably went deeper than some permutations of an X-Gene or whatever, who he shared little history, but an undeniable biological connection.

He couldn't name the emotion he felt except that it was strong and demanding, and pushed him to bundle Rouge into his arms. Closer, hold her strong, and close, and tuck his face into her hair, and kick start the rolling rumble in his own throat, lower, slower: purring. It wasn't even something he thought about, just some deep instinct that reacted to his cub.

Never in his life had Victor questioned his father's reaction to his claws, teeth, and purr; on some level he had understood, and accepted, what had been done to him. It wasn't until he held Rogue, with his claws, his teeth, and his purr, that he realized his father was a monster.

There was something wrong with him if he couldn't love a kid like this.

"C'mon, kiddo," Victor said, hooking his arm beneath Rogue's legs to lift her. Fixed-up by his healing factor she could probably walk on her own now but... he wanted to carry her. Need to. "Lets get ya home."

[onlyarogue]

Rogue inhaled deeply through her nose, numerous scents only available though somebody else's' mutation muddled her present thoughts. Distracting. Overwhelming. The girl rolled her neck enjoying the faint popping. Not too loud. Whatever it was that had surfaced bringing her father's mutations to the surface was fading rapidly.

"You did mean to push me. You just didn't know the consequences." She ran her tongue across her teeth, the sharp canines were there, as she suspected from the feeing of her jaw suddenly shifting but this realization was following but another strange sensation as they disappeared.

Clarice did look apologetic through, truly. Even Rogue's skeptical eye could see that. "And I could already tell about the people skills thing." Rogue huffed, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She would need to change her gloves since the fingertips were now shredded on these.

"But it's whatever. Just....can ya back off?" Rogue was usually able to handle some give and take but having another psyche resurface made her feel raw. Unsettled. Even without terrible memories popping up.

“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. It’s normal for me.”

Though she was frowning, Clarice nodded. "Okay -- I understand," she said, letting her hands slowly lower. It was her fault, really -- she'd been pushing Rogue, pestering her with subtle jabs and snarky comments, and she should have known that eventually she'd lose her temper and bite back. What she hadn't anticipated was a sudden resurgence of some very familiar, feline characteristics, claws popping and jaws suddenly full of viciously sharp teeth. Clarice knew that sometimes, under pressure, Rogue's mutation would often drag out powers she'd absorbed -- a defense mechanism, one assumed -- but this had come as a bit of a shock.

Why had Rogue had to absorb from Victor? And when?

"Listen -- I'm sorry, okay? I didn't... mean to push you like that. I don't exactly have the best people skills."

[onlyarogue]

"With what my Momma taught me you're lucky I don't pull a gun on you, Swamp Rat." Rogue sniped back. All in jest of course. Guns hadn't been her style since Mystique found her years ago living all on her own.

It seemed she wasn't the only demanding one in the room though. Whatever little critter Remy smuggled in was even worse than she was. "I'm always nice to-" And then Gambit revealed the mysterious thing. A baby. A dark scaled thing with a long snout. Louis, as he was apparently called, looked up with eyes that seemed too large for his head and opened his mouth in a facsimile of a grin.

"Oh my word! Look at that baby." Rogue cooed with a beaming smile, leaning over to stroke a gloved finger along the top of the reptile's head. "Ain't you just the cutest, Louis."

In the safety of his bedroom and the door shut behind them, Remy checked to make sure it was locked before finally turning to her. He had a damn good feeling this wasn't going to go well over with her. Based on the sounds coming from beneath his coat, she most likely suspecting him to hold out some adorable baby animal in serious need of a cuddling. He could only hope her reaction wasn't too loud where it would draw the attention of the students - or worse, teachers.

He was not in the mood to deal with Scott tonight.

"Demanding thing, aren't you?" He teased with a smile. The point had to be made, though Remy knew he would get hell for it later. "Didn't your momma ever teach you how ta say please?"

A soft chirp came from beneath his coat and made it perfectly clear it no longer tolerated being stashed away. "Now be nice ta him. He's just a baby." Remy gave a sigh before reached beneath his coat and into one of the inside pockets, pulling out the small baby crocodile to hold out to Rogue.

"I named him Louis!"

[onlyarogue]

Name: Anna Marie Adler-Darkholme

Nickname(s): Rogue, Moonbeam

Relationship Status: Verse Dependent

Gender: Cis Female

Romantic Orientation: Heterosexual

Preferred Pet Names: Anna, chère, mon coeur, ma colombe, my dear

Opinion on True Love: Rogue completely believes in true love and soul mates. That does not mean she always thought it would happen for her.

Opinion on Love at First Sight: Rogue would tell you she did not believe in it until she met Remy. They locked eyes and it was like lightning struck them both. (This mun also usually does not believe in it but damn if Remy and Rogue aren't an example I actually buy.)

How ‘Romantic’ Are They?: Sickeningly Romantic. Even when she was single Rogue had quite a fondness for romance in books and movies.

Ideal Physical Traits: Rogue does not really have a 'type' physically. She likes a man taller than her I think, but she appreciates a wide variety of physical features. She does prefer somebody athletic that can keep up with her.

Ideal Personality Traits: Loyal, intelligent, funny, strong-willed. PATIENT

Unattractive Physical Traits: Rogue doesn't really have set thing that is a physical turn off. She has always been very open-minded about appearances because basically everyone in her family is unique/abnormal.

Unattractive Personality Traits: Dishonest. Cruel. Selfish.

Ideal Date: Dancing. (but she would have to be comfortable for that) An escape room ( I'm not joking). She would enjoy the puzzles and the mystery.

Do They Have a Type?: Obsessed with her.

Average Relationship Length: If Rogue dates somebody it is usually either very short, as in never getting off the ground, or YEARS.

Preferred Non-Sexual Intimacy: If she can touch? Kissing. 100% Can't get enough of it. If she can't touch? Getting absolutely squished in a hug. Rogue also seems to enjoy being carried ( think about all the art with Remy holding her)

Commitment Level: All or Nothing. Rogue is either running for her life from love or holding onto it with every bit of her incredible strength.

Opinion of Public Affection: SORRY Y'ALL ROGUE IS GOING TO BE ALL OVER HER MAN IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. You can watch or leave.

Past Relationships?: Honestly not very many, sometime none depending on verse.

tagged by: @snkts

tagging: anyone

[onlyarogue]

Why am I so unloveable? Like honestly y’all can’t answer that because, let’s be real, you don’t know me. This is just a fairly anonymous place to say it.

I spent today alone.

It got me more than I thought it would.

[onlyarogue]

No mistake at all. That was Remy's voice, the one Rogue remembered. The same that haunted her nightmares. The same that repeated their final conversation on a ceaseless loop in her waking mind. Only now there was no flirtation. No warmth. Not even barely concealed pain like that last night on Genosha. He sounded hollow. Frighteningly even as he threatened her life.

Rogue shook her head, wet clumps of her own hair stuck to her skin from the rain. Drops that could either be tears or precipitation streaked clean tracks through the cloud of ash on her face "I'm not goin' anywhere." She stepped closer in fact, green eyes squinting through the dim gloom to see him better. White hair and grey skin that had nothing to do with the remnants of the wild fair. No scars though. No burns. "What happened to you, Remy?" Where had he been? What had changed him both in appearance and behavior?

continued from here {x}

He had been watching the x-men from the shadows, racing to each one of the natural disasters he created to try to save as many lives as possible. His Master would warned him this would happen. That they didn’t understand what Apocalypse was trying to do for mutants, that they would try to undo his good work. With the warning came the instruction not to intervene, to keep to the shadows and his face hidden. The longer Apocalypse’s plan was secret, the less likely the x-men would be able to stop them. So Death watched silently from a distance and waited for a sign from his Master that it was time.

There was one of them he could not take his black and red eyes off of. She had dark brown hair with white streaks and for whatever reason he found himself captivated her. The other x-men didn’t matter. Though it wouldn’t be for long, she always seemed to know where to look and he ended up having to escape before she could catch him.

Until she finally did.

Skin as black as the trees his wildfire already touched, Death turned to make his escape, only to have her fly down to land in front of him and block his path, the smoke still hid some of the changes that had been done to him. A hand reached out to him and he took a step back, head tilting to the side curiously.

"Sugar?" He repeated the pet name. It sounded oddly familiar, though he didn't understand why. Another step backwards, this time out of the smoke to revel the blackened skin and scars. "Leave or you will end up like da others."

@onlyarogue

[onlyarogue]

[ TRUST ] for a scenario where sender’s muse is the only one receivers muse will let close. 

“I’m fine.” He bites out. It’s an obvious lie. It hurts. His head fucking hurts. He’s tired. And to make it all worse? The real kicker? 

It’s not healing. 

It should have passed over  by now. If it was anything physical, it should be cleared up, and he should be back to his usual, no fuss, no muss. He should be fine. He should be better than fine. He’s the goddamn Wolverine. 

But he’s not fine. Not even close. And it’s put him in a bad mood. He hates this. He feels disgusting. He doesn’t want to be seen like this. Not by anyone. After all, he was pathetic, hunched in the dark in his bathroom, gripping the back of his neck to try to keep himself from throwing up. 

Yeah, real tough, Logan. Real tough. 

That’s why he’d shooed everyone away. Sure, they meant well, but that wasn’t the point. He could handle himself. He always handled himself. One by one, they’d poked their heads in. One by one, he’d told them to fuck off. One by one, they’d done so. 

Until her. 

She lingers at the door and he has a hard time snapping at her. Both because of who she is, and how crappy he feels. He just grumbles and sulks lower. 

“You sound fine.” She said softly. Ah, she's humouring him. … Or giving him shit. Could be either, coming from her. He grunts and closes his eyes. He hears her approach and doesn’t protest. She settles down next to him and he just leans heavier against the toilet, his porcelain hero for when his stomach inevitably tried to empty itself again. 

“Brought ya’ this.” She says, and he hears rustling and the sound of something wet - and there’s the sleight pressure of a cold, damp cloth against the back of his neck. Okay. That helped. It was something he could focus on. A breath in, a breath out. Rogue rests her gloved hand on his back, patting the thin fabric of his sleep shirt in an attempt to soothe. 

“The lab again?” She asked, and after a moment of hesitation, he nodded. She knew - she’d seen the memories in his head. She’d suffered his nightmares. 

(He’d done that to her.) 

“It's okay, Wolvie.” She said. “Y’ain’t goin’ back there.” 

“I know, Moonbeam.” He returned. “Don’t plan on it.” And that’s all he has to say. They sit in silence, with her head resting on his back - and to her credit, he does, eventually, feel better.

[onlyarogue]

still trying to figure out my digital art style so here's my favourite girl

[onlyarogue]

A heartbreaking drabble that @onlyathief never asked for.

When she was little, Anna Marie wore her heart on her sleeve. But after years of pain, abandonment, and loss she protected it better. Anna Marie wore her heart on her sleeve, but Rogue held it cupped in her hands. Safe. Secure. Still seen but held tight for protection. Reserved. Even a clever thief had not quite managed to slip the fragile beating thing from her grip. Rogue was strong like that. Stubborn like that. Look. Touch. But he couldn’t just have it. That was too dangerous.

And so, they danced around each other, her heart beating like a drum. Setting the tempo of the couple’s give and take. Flight and embrace. Alright, she was always the one fleeing. But the thief waited with patience that was far too saintly for his rakish reputation. He waited her to stop running and resume their dance.

He never left.

Not ‘til now.

What was that song she’d heard growing up? Dust in the Wind. Her adopted mom played that song all the time and Anna never understood why. It was so melancholy for the taste of a woman usually so joyful. It came to Rogue now. The lyrics hauntingly played in her mind as she stared down at her empty arms, which until just a second before had held Remy so close. So desperate as she begged him to hold on and confessed that she loved him. Neither Anna nor Rogue ever told a man that before.

I close my eyes Only for a moment, and the moment's gone.

Tears poured like rain down her cheeks. Silent though. Silent and shocked at the inexplicable loss. At the emptiness of her arms. Their lips had touched in a kiss just at the end. What would have been the purpose of forbidding it then? The life force that she normally absorbed from another’s skin never came though. Never seeped into her being and scarred her soul. Remy was gone. Well and truly gone.

All my dreams Pass before my eyes, a curiosity

Anna Marie wore her heart of her sleeve, but Rogue held it cupped in her hands. Her hands were empty now. That clever thief finally managed to take his prize before he faded into nothing. Or maybe it had been his for awhile now. Maybe it had been his all along.

Now, all Rogue possessed was a gaping wound in her chest where the pesky organ should have been that bled and bled and bled. Almost as much as she cried.

Dust in the wind All they are is dust in the wind

If only that were true. If only whatever demon or foul god that had taken Remy had finished her off too. Leaving Rogue without him, just when they had finally found solid footing in their dance, was the cruelest cut fate had ever dealt her.

A wound she would repay.

[onlyarogue]

Remy seeing that Magneto can touch Rogue (based on prior discussion)

and then the world broke open, a great crack in the sky and the earth and time it's self. you were the yolk, all of you, pouring through the shell of non-existence into a sudden sense of self that made your throats burn like holy flames were given to you to swallow, to live, to be, to be, to be.

or maybe that burning was just you. just her. her mouth's ghost like a searing star pressed to your lips.

your last thought.

your first thought.

the world broke open and you ran so fast the world turned pink, a carnival ride brightness that made you hold your breath with sick and sweet anticipation.

there were children running with you. some were crying. some were numb, quiet, confused. some were screeching for mad joy. to god you must have all looked liked sugar ants on a frenzy, going mad for someone's abandoned, half-eaten candy bar.

didn't you fall away into the nothing in her arms? wasn't she crying? why wasn't she there, lifting you back up, like the preacher pulling you out of the murky baptismal river?

you found her, with her eyes like planets, her hair longer than you remembered, and the cut of her shirt wrong somehow, in a way you couldn't understand until a child bursting past her made her leap like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

she was showing her belly, skin sun-kissed like she let it be seen, not lily white from the way it could never be risked like that.

"rogue-"

and the world broke open, or maybe just you, just your heart and your bones and your whole ugly life that she had made so terribly beautiful for a few stolen moments.

there was a man's hand on her skin, fingers splayed across her, no gloves. no space. just skin on skin on skin on --

"rogue?"

there was a man's hand on her jaw, turning it away, tilting her head up, just skin on skin on--

for a minute you were thrilled. and then another kid rocketed past, and she jerked away, pressed herself into the man but away from the kid like she would anytime there could be an accident.

you reached for her, sank back further.

she couldn't touch anyone.

but she could touch magneto, and he could touch her, and the world broke open and you wished it would just swallow you back up whole.