#Charles yaoi hands Xavier

[lizstiel]

[xxplastic-cubexx]

with these hands i can draw whatever i want

[woolly-aph1d]

I don't know if it's canon, but i wholeheartedly believe that Erik removing the bullet out of Charles is what caused him to be disabled.

The (assumed) fact that Erik's care and love would be THE reason is crushing, and ironic, and it reflects his modus operandi so so well.

That's because Erik is a man who wants to rip the proverbial bandaid off. He sees the issue (or what he believes to be an issue) and eliminates it.

Bullet was in, and it was the cause of pain. So he removed it. He "got rid of the issue". Simple as that.

Wrong.

In that moment, he redacted all control he had over the missiles, putting his everything into removing the bullet that was hurting Charles. He put his all in hope that he will save him from more pain or even death. But it doesn't matter how focused or serene he was, how deeply inside he reached for the ability to not fall apart where Charles fell and instead redirect himself into a saviour. And it didn't matter whether in that moment, in all his body and mind, he felt that all of his training was for that exact moment. It never mattered and it never will matter because however careful and precise he was, he was not about to succesfully remove a bullet from a spine without any prior anatomical knowledge or skillset in the field. Erik's love and desperation in manouvering the bullet out was disastrous, no matter how sugar-coated with care it was. (but he doesn't know that, no)

But the bullet was not alone, it had a source.

He sees Moira, "You. You did this" he stated before trying to suffocate her. She was the one who shot at him, after all. She was holding the gun - the physical weapon and he saw her as guilty. He was the judge, he was about to be the executioner.

"She didn't do this Erik. You did"

It hung in the air like a giant stop sign.

But Erik is the bullet, and he is in control of himself just as he was in control of it mere moment before it hit Charles. He can only change direction, never stop. At least not before he hurts someone, most likely someone he loves (and maybe not even then).

He shifts in his route, no less doomed than the previous one; he is searching for unity. "We are brothers" he believes, he also believes that "us turning on each other, it's what THEY want". And it doesn't matter who he means by "them" either, any would be good if it would align their paths. But just like in that deleted scene in the empty corridors their eyes meet, each of them knowing they were trying to reach the other briefly before turning around, neither of them willing or able to join paths, only to cross. Charles wants to be Erik's "friend" while Erik searches for an ally. Charles is the home and Erik is the battlefield. Its the status quo they cannot break out of.

Charles, no matter how daft and out of touch he is, stated the truth; "they were only following orders" and Erik knew that. He heard it before. He felt it before. He lived through it. Survived it.

He was not about to follow anybody's orders ever. He was his own man, ruled by his own emotions. Same emotions that took a hold of the bullet. Same disobedience and lack of order that took Charles' legs.

Its the modus operandi, that's the source of it all.

He will take what he sees for granted, and eliminate what he sees. Sometimes its a bullet, sometimes its humanity. Or all humans, because he felt a lack of humanity from them. He doesn't see his own reflection in Charles' eyes. He cannot see his own faults.

In front of him, he sees the big picture just right, but the devil hides in the details. Sometimes what ruins the system isn't a bullet lodged into it. Sometimes issues are internal and you can't rid of them.

Mystique is a proof of Erik's faults as much as Charles'. She is what destroys the ideal and points out the inevitable. Its the internalised phobia and hatered we see throughout the movie. Getting rid of humans isn't what makes it go away. It becomes the microsegregation of palatable and non-palatable mutations within the mutant group. Erik and Charles being privileged and shown time and time again manufacturing a standard for Raven to meet, without once allowing her a safe space to decide who she wants to be - who she chooses as her most authentic self. And Raven becomes a source of hurt and discrimination herself as she abandons her child for being outwardly mutant in appearance, because she can be privileged too, if she so wishes.

Erik will not save the world, nor mutants. He will not destroy, or turn it into ashes either. It will be the same movie with different cast. Same world with different faults for Erik to see.

Erik and Charles are on the edges of a society that has to accomodate truth and find respect, but neither of them give us the resolution. Maybe because neither of us know how to save our own world either.

If you were able to spend time reading me tripping over ideas and words, you have time to interact and maybe even donate to Farah who is in great need of aid in order to get basic necessities and save up to evacuate from Gaza in order to escape the ongoing massacre caused by Israel.

Please donate and help a person in need through this link,

https://gofund.me/3523e2a7

[bikenesmith]

haven't had much to say for The Death March of X, primarily bc it was mid + ultimately felt like a futile exercise outside resurrection of magneto . but the krakoa finale-funeral pissed me off. im too exhausted by the whole thing to muster emotion about what i and everyone else has discussed ad nauseam for months (corporate interests squashing creative storytelling, frankly insulting attempts at appeasing a mourning audience).

i'd already given up on squeezing any thematic cohesion out of this very slowly sinking ship but i wanted a crumb of cherik reunion, a crumb of old man yaoi, and they couldn't even deliver that!? copy-pasted/adapted from my twitter...

charles sold his soul for an idea he ascribed himself to because he and erik were doing it TOGETHER. but erik "deserted his post" & it all went to shit. yet here erik wrings his hands over choices his absence enabled + is somehow surprised that charles dgaf anymore? ridiculous

the split between krakoa cherik was not just about ideology itself. it was about emotions, and the emotions that krakoa wrought them. the guilt, pain, loss, exhaustion, the unbearable weight of responsibility... but no, please do waste the first pages they've had together in well over a year on erik blandly rehashing Xavier's Dream 2.0/This Is How Xavier's Dream Can Still Win

charles + erik are just people. they are not myths or paragons, no matter how often they pretend otherwise. they are not ideological idols or effigies. they are just flesh + blood — & they are their MOST fleshy + bloody w/ each other. i saw little of that in this issue.

ironically the exchange that seems the most "real" to me also aggravates me the most.

its like erik is on a complete other planet than charles here. how does erik not KNOW that yes, that IS all he has left??? it's a far cry from erik's implicit understanding of charles in x-men: red & resurrection of magneto

erik, who recognized the "no-place in [charles'] heart" long before anyone else did, is surprised to find said no-place swallowing charles up. and does nothing about it.

what did he mean by being "on his way"? on his way to do what? say nothing of substance + let charles lobotomize himself? LMFAO.

(despite dropping the ball on erik as well as erik in relation to charles, we did get some great solo charles moments.... this sums up so much about him perfectly, and also feels very connected to the ROM panel shared earlier. "desperate desire to be loved"....)

anyway i hope for better writing when charles is inevitably broken out of mega-prison and woken up from his mega-coma. that's really all i'm interested in w/ this blatant return to the status quo beyond storm's solo and jean's solo, which actually seem poised to be legitimately groundbreaking for both characters.

[frog-necromancer]

Betting on a Losing Dog

Masterlist

Read on Ao3

Chapter 5: A barking dog seldom bites

Logan/fem!Reader

Summary: Putting the fun in funeral (not) This chapter is mostly angst...sorry...it's also a little short.

Chapter 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Tags:

#drug abuse and addiction #swearing #angst #anger issues #main character death (it’s Logan sorry babes) #fluff and smut #kissing #alcohol abuse  #graphic description of violence and injuries #heavy angst #biting #thigh riding #oral (f receiving) #p in v sex #unprotected sex (wrap it up)  #attempt at humor #spending time as a family #intrusive thoughts #some gore #hurt no comfort (maybe a little comfort) #found family #marriage!?!! #self harm (skin picking) #throwing up #depression  #smoking #references to Christianity and religion #video game references #road trip

A barking dog seldom bites

Logan had never seen her like this, an empty shell of the woman he knew. The woman he loved. Panicked eyes were frantically searching for him and Laura at any given moment, at any unusual sound or shudder of the car. 

How she looked at them as if they would disappear any second.

How she was clutching Charles' lifeless body to her chest, holding him as if he was merely sleeping, taking one of his little old man naps in the backseat of the car.

But his skin was cold, his limbs already stiff and rigid with rigor mortis. 

—

Morning came and they were still driving. Laura was silently staring out of the open car window, sunglasses hiding her eyes. Her face seemed to be set in stone, serious and unreadable. 

F/N was a bundle of nerves but even adrenaline could only keep you going for so long. Logan coughed, a cough that didn't seem to go away. Yet another thing to worry about.

“We have to bury him”, F/N finally spoke, bloodshot E/C eyes staring at Logan through the back mirror, her hands still cradling the professor's form. Logan was silent for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tighter until his still bloody knuckles turned white. 

He knew she was right but it felt so incredibly wrong. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not ever. Charles wasn't supposed to die and he sure as shit wasn't supposed to be buried in the middle of fucking nowhere. He belonged with the other X-men. With his family and loved ones. 

His grave should have been next to Erik's… side by side forever. (Old men Yaoi my beloved)

If they buried him, Logan would have to say goodbye. He would have to accept his death for good. He would have to accept that Charles Xavier, the man that had saved him so many years ago, his friend, was never coming back. That he was truly gone.

“Yeah” Logan finally got out, knowing that if he'd try to even utter one more word, he wouldn't be able to hold back the tears. He didn't dare look at F/N or Charles, his eyes focused ahead on the dusty road.

—

It didn't take long for them to find a suitable resting place for their friend and mentor. A nice grassy spot between high trees, not far from a beautiful lake. Fog lingered in the cold air. A fresh and calm morning. But none of them could appreciate its beauty at the moment. 

Logan began to dig. And with each shovel of earth he threw to the side, the dread grew, eating each of them alive.

F/N wasn't even sure where he'd gotten the shovel from. The last couple of hours were a blur, she darkly recalled that Logan had stopped at some farm a couple of hours ago. When it was still dark, and Charles’ flesh still warm. 

He was silent as he dug his friend's grave, a million thoughts screaming in his mind, voices he couldn't seem to shut down. Jean. Scott. Ororo, Hank, Kurt, Morph… the list went on. His occasional cough was the only thing keeping him from disappearing into his mind completely, giving into the voices.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing at F/N and Laura who were sitting on a rock nearby, watching him. Laura was listening to music, she must have taken the boy’s mp3 player. He couldn't see the girl's eyes but he could see F/N's. Empty and sad was how he'd describe them. He felt the same. And for a moment he thought he was digging his own grave.

F/N watched Logan, not caring that he saw her staring. Her eyes on his bloody white shirt between his blue button up. Muscles flexing as he moved the shovel. Her gaze wandered to Charles, body and face mostly covered by the blanket  Kathryn had given her. They had only travelled together for a couple of days and yet it felt like months had passed. 

—

Birds were singing and a gentle breeze carried the smell of pine, earthy and rich. The light was soft, the sky covered by light gray clouds and for a moment the gentle murmur of the wind brushing through the leaves seemed to quieten down. 

It was still early in the morning when Logan and F/N lowered Charles into the ground.

“Erik is waiting for you. Rest well…Professor…” F/N’s cracked lip quivered, E/C eyes filled with unshed tears. She wanted to say more…to say how much she'd miss him but the words were stuck in her dry throat.

Logan could tell that she didn't want to let go of him, reluctantly, pulling her shaking hand away from the lifeless body. Logan was glad, when F/N closed his jacket, hiding the three puncture wounds and most of the blood, still he knew they were there. He could smell the blood and the beginning of decay on him.

He hadn't killed Charles but it sure felt like he had. Like his own claws had pierced his chest, like his blood stained his blue shirt. Because it did.

F/N continued to carefully adjust his position and clothes, but hesitated when she felt something in the front pocket of his pants. The bent edge of a photograph was peeking out from the mess of fabric and blood. With shaking hands F/N reached for it, feeling like throwing up yet again when she stared into the faces of who she'd begun to call her family in the quietness of her mind. They were smiling. Happy forever on a dirty picture.

So much had happened, F/N had almost forgotten about their little adventure at the dinosaur park. A tear hit the crumbled paper, mixing with dried blood. She gently pressed it into Charles' cold hands, bending his fingers carefully around the picture, smearing blood over their faces in the process. She couldn't help it, her hands were shaking as she stepped back.

The morning light threw soft shadows on Charles face and yet he didn't look peaceful. He looked as if he was in pain, his expression a mask of fear and confusion, frozen in his flesh until it decayed and worms writhed through his skull. F/N thought, and she would never admit it, but she was glad when the crumbled earth finally covered his face. Hiding it from the world. 

Hiding how they had failed him. 

Logan was still holding the shovel F/N was next to him, gazing into the distance, where the lake shimmered in the gentle light. Laura stepped next to the pair, removing her earbuds, she was still wearing her sunglasses.

The sound of a zipper could be heard, it was Laura's backpack F/N noted. Laura rummaged through the bag, until she found what she was looking for.

Wordlessly she placed the velociraptor plushie on Charles’ still chest. 

–

“Well…It's got water, and…” Logan got out, voice rough and on the verge of breaking. His hands were shaking. 

F/N didn't reach out.

But Laura did.

The girl reached for his arm, fingers encasing his dirty elbow just above his blood stained fist. Laura's own knuckles bloody as she held onto him, her father.

Logan gulped, lump in his scratchy throat as he tried again: “It's got water...” his voice finally broke, a pained huff leaving his stinging lips, breathing uneven and shaky.

F/N lunged forward retching, her meager stomach's content splattered onto the grassy forest floor. It must have been the food Kathryn had cooked for them just yesterday. Only a few hours ago.The thought alone made Logan want to throw up too.

He didn't look at her but from the corner of his eyes he could see her wipe her mouth with her sleeve. He wanted to make sure she was okay, to hold her hand, but he knew that if he said anything right now, it would come out too harsh. He felt incredibly angry all of a sudden. Angry at himself and angry at the world.

With an irritated grunt he stabbed the shovel into the ground.

“Fuck this…”, he muttered, limping in the direction of the car: “Fuck this…”

F/N didn't follow him immediately, watching him stomp away between the trees. She felt a small hand reach for hers, giving it the softest of squeezes.

—

Reluctantly F/N went after him, making sure Laura stayed close behind her. They stopped at the tree line.

Only now did she realise how ravaged and bloody Logan still was from the fight with his clone. His face and shirt were covered in still wet blood that was oozing from his slowly closing gashes. She didn't even want to imagine what lay beneath his torn tank top, the former white material now covered in brown and red spots. 

Logan stumbled to the equally ravaged pick-up truck. He grunted something that sounded a little like “Come on!” as he tossed the shovel into the back. 

They didn't move, silently watching him as he got into the truck, but he was having trouble turning it over. He cursed, a colorful string of profanities, he was frustrated and F/N knew better than to try to calm him now. He needed to get it out.

He got out again and limped to open up the hood. Metal creaked and faintly F/N could hear a dog barking in the distance, Laura seemed to notice it too as she looked across the landscape, but F/N was too busy watching Logan. His rage was reasonable, his pain written all over his sickly pale face and if she didn't feel like throwing up again she would have maybe joined his violent outburst as he started to beat the poor vehicle with the shovel, leaving deep dents in the metal. 

F/N was about to say something to try to calm him, when he collapsed on the hard asphalt.

He was out cold.

She let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

—

She didn't like the thought of stealing some innocent fisherman's car but the situation didn't allow for such luxury. 

They found their way to the nearest town, the car was old, white and turquoise and smelled faintly of fish. 

F/N drove, she hadn't touched a wheel in months. Her mind was too hazy and her hands too shaky.

They got Logan to a local doctor, an urgent care walk-in clinic. He was a kind older man, who took them in without question as he saw them. As he saw the little girl, covered in blood and grime. 

He must have taken pity on them, F/N thought. But she was grateful.

It gave her a moment to lick her own wounds, to take a deep breath and to think. The doctor helped her, making sure none of the cuts were too deep and removing glass that had been stuck in her flesh as well as fixing the pulled stitches on her side. It would leave a scar, but she didn't mind. It would always remind her of Logan. The Doctor still didn't ask any questions, for which F/N was thankful. She had the creeping suspicion that he knew what they were. 

—

F/N sat with Laura in the waiting area, the girl had her earbuds in, listening to music as she rested her head against the window behind her. The glass was cold and against her skin. It was somewhat of a grounding feeling. She had never been this tired in her whole life, she thought.

—

F/N opened her eyes when she heard Logan's voice, she must have nodded off, for how long she wasn't sure. She blinked, away the sleep, Logan was arguing with the doctor, he was offering his help to them but Logan declined and she couldn't blame him. If they accepted this innocent man's help he'd surely be dead within a couple of days. Just like the Munsons.

Logan coughed, gesturing to them, he was nursing a headache. Worse than any hangover he'd ever had: “Let's go” Not bothering to wait he rushed out of the clinic, still limping heavily. Laura was close behind him, car keys in hand. F/N sighed softly before slowly getting to her feet, body aching. She followed them outside, the door closing behind her with a quiet click. 

It was clear that Logan was a little disoriented, he found himself on the main street of what looked like a small town, cars honking in the distance. Finally he turned around to see F/N, but he didn't say anything, he didn't need to. 

He was glad that she was alright.

Laura ignored his barks as she made her way over the street and to the car they’d stolen. F/N placed her hand on his shoulder silently, a reassuring gesture, but he wordlessly shrugged it off. F/N didn't feel offended.

Logan hurried after Laura, the limp still prominent in his steps. She  got into the car, climbing on the passenger's seat with Logan close behind her. It was clear that the girl was pissed off and Logan wasn't off much better. This couldn’t end well.

He took a disapproving look at the car. “You can't just take shit, you know”, he muttered, but got into the driver's seat anyway. Meanwhile Laura was making a point by activity not looking at him or F/N. Avoiding their gazes at all costs, eyes fierce.

F/N had found her place in the back of the car, tiredly resting her head against the glass again. She was glad Logan was doing alright, but in this moment she was too tired to express it. 

Logan was breathing heavily, the short walk from the doctor's office was doing a number on him. Car keys jingled as he turned to the girl beside him who was still not looking at him. “I’m glad you two got me here uh…thank you”, he spoke quietly, glancing at F/N through the back mirror, before he shifted to Laura beside him.

“De nada” Logan halted what he was doing, surprise flickering through his hazel eyes and even F/N looked up, her expression unreadable.  He turned to Laura in disbelief: “You can talk?” Laura nodded, as if it wasn't a big deal, his voice became louder, anger mixing with disbelief: “You can talk?” The girl nodded yet again, not looking the slightest bit impressed..  “What the fuck? F/N did you know?” The woman on the backseat shook her head, she hadn't. Logan growled: “Why the fuck… what's all this bullshit been for the last 2.000 fucking miles?” 

Laura snapped, annoyance flickering over her face: “¿Tú pretendes que hable contigo si siempre me insultas, si me gritas, si me intentas dejar tirada? Tú pretendes que abra la boca” (Why do you want me to talk to you if you're always insulting me, yelling at me, if you try to leave me behind? You want me to open my mouth ...) F/N wasn't quite sure what she was saying and Logan too didn't seem to understand, but it was obvious that Laura was angry, especially at Logan. And F/N couldn't even blame her.

The tension grew, Logan's expression shifted: “What? Shut up! Shut up!” He was getting more irritated and angry by the second: “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He barked and F/N actually flinched but Laura remained unwavering, staring him down. A barking dog seldom bites, F/N had to remind herself. Logan would never hurt her no matter how angry he got. He was simply hurting. Tired and easily irritated. But he would never lay a hand on Laura or her for that matter. Not ever. 

Laura's expression was unreadable as her eyes flickered to F/N for a second, before landing back on her father: “Jonah, Gideon, Rebecca, Delilah, Victor.” she spoke, voice leveled yet firm. Logan interrupted her, he wasn't in the mood for this:

 “What? Who's that?” He snapped yet again. 

But Laura didn't waver, her voice steady: “Jonah, Gideon” 

Logan was having none of it, his anger flaring: “Who is that?” he yelled, getting more and more riled up. 

Barking dogs seldom bite, F/N repeated in her mind. She hated seeing them like this. At each other's throat. 

Laura continued to repeat the names while she took out the envelope of money with the coordinates from her backpack, the yellow paper now covered in specks of dried blood.

F/N watched them in curious silence. She would step in if they went too far.

Laura pointed at the thick envelope: “North Dakota.” Logan coughed, trying to grab the money, but Laura was faster and pulled it away: “What?” He asked, confused and still very much irritated. She pointed at the writing: “North Dakota, por favor.” her voice was insistent. Logan tried to reach for the pack again, hand shaky: “Shit, okay. Look…” he huffed but Laura swatted his hand away: “No. Por favor.”

She gave him a persistent look. Logan shook his head, annoyed by her behavior: “This place. Okay? Your nurse, she read too many stories, you understand? Too many stories!” He was overcome by a coughing fit.

Laura simply ignored him, reaching into her backpack again and taking out her comic book. She opened it, shifting through the bent pages. 

Finally she showed him an image of the idyllic Box Canyon, F/N couldn't help but sigh softly, so this was what this was all about.

“Yeah, I know... I’ve seen it! I've seen it, okay? This all here…” Logan grumbled, tired eyes wandering over the colorful images. “Si! Si!” Laura exclaimed, hoping he'd understand. “None of this…No existo, okay? You understand me?” He flipped through the book and pointed at a page showing the canyon, ‘Eden’ read the caption in bold letters. He jabbed at the image: “This Eden does not exist.” Laura ignored his words, animated expression on her face: “Si! Eden!” Logan shook his head, headache getting worse if that was even possible: “No!” 

“Si, Si Eden” Laura repeated “It's a fantasy, kid. See that?” Logan pointed at the cover, the names of the authors were neatly listed just below the title: “Those are the names of the people who just made this…” He coughed: “They made this whole thing up. Okay? This whole-” He coughed: “It happened once, and they just turned it into a big, fucking lie!”

Laura burst out with more Spanish, yelling at him. But he didn't budge: “That's all this is. No!”

“Le pagaron me llevo a este lugar!

¿Por qué no puedes llevarme a este lugar!” She huffed, annoyed. Then, exasperated, rummaged through her backpack. He sat there, too tired to fight, and watched as she came up with a map. She pointed to where they were, and then to where they needed to go. 

Logan sighed: “I know, I understand.” He grabbed the map from her: “This is a long way. You understand? I am not taking you to North Dakota. I am fucked up and so is F/N.” F/N flinched slightly at his words but she knew he was right, he was in no state for this and neither was she. Logan grunted: “And I cannot get you there. It is a two-day drive And I am not taking you…” He was interrupted by Laura punching him in the arm. Hard. 

Logan was an old barking dog who seldom bit, but Laura…she was just a child. Just like her father she tended to violent outbursts. And while Logan had had years to learn to control himself and tire himself out, she had the vigor, the vitality of youth. She was young and fierce and inexperienced. Sometimes she would act before she could think.

She yelled at him in Spanish, still lashing.

“Don't fucking hit me!”, Logan barked, blocking her attacks, she snarled at him like a wild animal. 

She was just a child. She didn't know how to express herself with words yet. she'd never gotten the chance to learn.

“Don't hit me”, he growled, his voice hoarse from yelling at her. Something flashed through his eyes, he was reaching a breaking point.

“Laura, sweetheart. Logan.”,F/N finally spoke up, voice incredibly gentle and Logan wondered how she could stay this calm and soft in a situation like this. When he was about to explode. Her voice was soothing, even when he was riled up like, she could get through to him. To his heart. His old fucking heart. Hazel eyes flickered from Laura to her, softening just a bit. Laura seemed to calm down a little too, the fierceness in her brown eyes ebbing away just the tiniest bit, revealing her desperation and fear.

“Jonah, Gideon,” She continued her mantra, but was no longer trying to hit him. “stop saying those names.”, Logan tried again. But the little girl was just as stubborn as him. “right now”, Logan huffed, still very much irritated and annoyed, 

“Delilah and Rictor.” Laura was unphased. 

“stop saying those names. Stop it! Stop!” 

But she  continues to repeat them. Over and over again like a broken record. They were the names of her friends. The only family she'd known until meeting Logan…and F/N.

“Fuck. Fine, fine.” the man finally gave in, keys jingling.

“You wanna go? I'll take you there. See for yourself. Let's go to fucking fantasyland.” Logan growled, starting the engine.

F/N let out a breath of relief she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

[slouph]

🍑🤲

[conformityvictim]

[Please ignore yaoi hands - I’m getting used to this!~]

So here one Day 2, we have my Marvel OC - Clay Maker/Hailey Grant

She came around after watching “Days of Future Past”. The story was that Xavier gets kidnapped and mind-messed up and the only way to find him is to...use Xavier. So they go to Clay Maker.

Hailey can use the dirt and debris in the air to form objects - even puppets. So she makes a full copy of Charles and they go to rescue the good Professor.

The story is an Eric/Charles story, with Hailey pointing out all the failures Magneto has had in his “War on Humanity” It holds more weight because she tells him everything through her Charles puppet.

I was going to draw my other character Cybernetics, but...drawing is hard. :P But here we have - Day 2! Here’s hoping