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threepandas · 2 months ago

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Counting Down: 1 [Next ->]

The worst part about knowing the end? Is the beginning and middle. The waiting to change. The hoping it can. Days, spent with the low fear, ever churning, that it will all make no difference. Your actions. Your plans. The hopes you have placed in Fate's fickle hands.

Entering the Creche at an awkward age, too soon to be Legend, too late to be Peer. I was destined to be an adult by the time Anikin arrived. Getting up there, by the time the Order fell. Not yet old enough to be an Elder... yet destined to never live long enough to see such an age.

Obviously, I refused.

Looked around, locked eyes on the closest most manageable Character Of Relevance and took a chance. After all, was it not? The Jedi WAY? To inconvenience the Sith at every turn? So... first Crecheling, then Initiate, then baby Padawan Me, tracked the poor man down. Hunted him for SPORT.

Meditate with me, Knight Dooku! Can you teach me about this or that, Knight Dooku? What is the correct use of seashell tongs in formal dining, when attending a formal feast with the aristocracy, during this specific religious holiday, Knight Dooku? (No, no, on the moon not the planet.)

Congratulations on you Mastery! Master Dooku!

Pushing and shoving my way into his life. Persistent, much to everyone's amusement, and his baffled chagrin. It was like befriending a fussy, regal looking, semi-feral cat. Force knows, for all his training, he's terrible at casual interactions. He was older them me, yes. And Mentor of sorts, certainly. For a time. But? We became... friendly? I like to think? I certainly chased him down enough.

He's a dramatic and awkward man, Yan, and he'd be lost without us; Sifo, Nu, and I. Occasionally Yoda, but that does come and go. Not to metion... well... his Padawans. (Damn it, Yan. They can't read the subtext from your pointed silences! Use your WORDS.) The sort of man who is... sturdy, but brittle. Like an old, unbending tree.

Which makes it all the worse, when the pressure becomes too much. Because it does not merely crack. No. No, such men? They shatter in terrible and unpredictable ways. Unbreakable right up until they are not. Unending right up until the crash.

It is...? Both tragic and hilarious, in a that way, that Yan should live surrounded by so many prophets. Yet he does not, can not, and never will see the end coming. Surrounded by legends, both old and new. Born with every marker for greatness. Yet he...? He will be considered little more then a footnote, in someone else's history. At best.

And the worst part of his Fall? The absolutely worst part? Is the Light I still feel, each time I look at him, the GOOD I know is there. Resolute and noble, dignified and full of grace. A diplomat. Expert swordsman. Makes magnificent tea. The driest wit imaginable. He... he is YAN. Not Count Dooku. Not some Sith Apprentice. Just... just Yan.

My friend.

I meditate on it a lot. The Force gives no clear answers. Still, I do try, sitting in the gardens. Tucked away several stories up, past the considerate veil of several sweeping branches. I never did succeed in figuring out which planet the tree hails from, I suspect it might be either a long dead one or some small moon. It's a truely lovely, sturdy, thing nonetheless.

Far below, younglings shriek and play growl. Running carefree, to work off energy before evening meditation. Each a tiny blaze of starlight dancing at the edge of my vision.

A bit bright, I note, but nothing concerning.

The Halls of Healing will have to increase my prescription again. My glasses are no longer blocking enough... I sigh. Considering that. My sight? Is at least partially genetic. While I may be predominantly human, just because someone looks human passing, doesnt mean they genetically are one. My ancestors were, to put it mildly, a bit... Mandalorian.

Where their was a will, there was apparently, a way; And now I pay the price for it. It's honestly a miracle they never "married", as it were, themselves into a genetic dead end. Some sort of metaphorical space mule scenario, as it were. Yet? Despite all that seeming success? Luck is not eternal. And should you keep gambling? Eventual you will roll poorly.

I was that poor hand. That unfortunate luck. Loved of course. Expected even. My parents both wanted and were delighted by me. But? I screamed. Could not bear to be near people. My inheritance? A truely unfortunate luck of the draw. When combine with Force Sensitivity? My eyes reacted to "Light" poorly. Very, VERY poorly.

They were blinding to me. A mere child with no shields to speak of, no Force training to push BACK with. Like being force to look direct at the sun, again and again. It HURT. Because I could See.

Where others saw merely flesh? I saw deeper. Not infalliblly, not perfectly, I was hardly some omniscient god, but... oh. Oh. The world was so Bright. So LUMINOUS. The Force swirling and burning and flowing. In everything, from humble to grand. People shine, and yes, it is beautiful. But it also? Hurts. Because it IS, ultimately, being forced to stare directly at bright, ever shifting, sometimes flickering LIGHT.

I have a lifelong disability. Can not FUNCTION without my filtering shade glasses.

Or, if you are one of the ignorant assholes, who even NOW still seek to use me? I have what you might call? A"gift~☆".

According to Healer Che, it was some highly recessive trait. (From a planet I honest didn't even know I had heritage on, much less could find on a navigation system.) A subterranean people, due to the truely ungodly surface conditions. VERY sensitive to energy signatures and light. Which...? When you slap on a whole NEW super special Force sensing ability? Filtered through the same brain? Wires unfortunately crossed.

It could have happened it anyone. Unfortunately, it happened to me. Now I'm effectively blind around large collections of sentients. Or Life in general, depending on the intensity. To say NOTHING of Force Nexus! Dear merciful FUCK, that was the sort of accident only you make ONCE and then NEVER again. I was lucky to keep my vision. At all. Full stop.

Sifo was not so lucky. His Visions being neither natural nor kind. The Force seizing him again and again, to plunge him into vivid scenes of carnage. Death and horrors in the home he so loved. I would would be forced to, should I fail, see the Fall of the Order once. But Sifo? Oh... oh, dear Sifo...

Sifo, had seen it fall ten thousand times.

Even Yan did listen to him. Not truely. But there is camaraderie, in the horrors. In whispering, "it's not their fault", through choking tears. Forgiving the victims that will one day kill us. There is... a certain, heavy, sort of friendship... born of pressing your foreheads together, fingers intertwined, knuckles white with terror, as you shudder in the dark.

I think it helped, helps, that he has someone, who believes him. Anyone. Not just humoring him, the mad man sprouting prophecies of doom. But truely believes him. Knows he is right. And that if nothing is done? Everyone will die.

But... BUT! It CAN NOT, be Kamino, Sifo. Not that, never that.

In the dark, I remind him of prophets, seeking to avoid their visions, and instead? Ensuring the worst, comes to pass. Defense, Sifo. Escape. We are JEDI. Do not let fear blind you, to who you ARE. Do not let it take down a path of darkness.

I wrap him in the Light. Tuck my Force presence close, like I'm hiding him again my side, a youngling tucked into the safety of my robe. Shhhh, my friend. It is okay to be afraid. I am too. We can do this together. We are not alone. I believe you.

We are the pillars of his mental health, Yan and I. It concerns the healers greatly. The council. Honestly? It concerns me. But what can I do? No one else CAN help Sifo, until the first take the step of recognizing he is not, in fact, insane. He is a perfectly SANE man, reacting in entirely reasonable ways, to unspeakable Nexus born horrors. Slowly cracking under the isolation and grief. A jedi pushed and pushed, far past the point lesser men would have broken.

And if? He need a woman young enough to be his one of his student's, to rely on? So be it. I am a Knight now, I can handle it. (I have been handling it, since the incident. Since I was a Crecheling. Where the fuck were all of YOU? Ah, that's right. Calling him insane. Making things WORSE.)

I breathe out slow and controlled. My meditation is getting me no where. Rising, I carefully hop down, using the Force to slow my fall, much to the awe of various Crechelings. I can not help but smile. Was I ever that small? So easily impressed? I bow to my tiny fellow jedi. Delighted, they scramble to bow back. Thrilled to show off how grown up and serious they are, how well down they can do it.

Reaching out with my senses, I look for Yan, politely avoiding doing more then the briefest brush as I reach past others. I am not the first, nor will I be the last. There are hundreds of such searches a day. Some clumsy and heavy handed, from Crechelings or Initiates. Some soft as brushing strands of silk. Knights or Masters, looking for friends, looking for students where the should not be.

The Temple feels alive, noisy even, when you know how to feel it.

Ah, there he is! Heading from the High Council's cha-Grief. Horror. A gutting pain that numbs and spreads.

Caught off gaurd, I am sent reeling. Stumbling, without grace, over my own feet into a nearby wall. Glad for it, as I desperately grab at my chest and wheeze, drawing the alarmed attention of nearby Knights and Guards. Because... because, the other direction? Had I stumbled in the other direction, I would have hit the railing. Fully doubt I... I would have been able t-too.... oh Force-!

It takes entirely too long to seperate my emotions from Yan's. To realize what's happening. My panic feeding into the pain. My pain feeding into the panic. Yan. S-Something happened to Yan! I manage to gasp it out. P-please! S.. Someone! Go! Go check on Master Dooku!

The world spins as I try to force air into my body. It refuses to come. Whatever horrible pain Yan is in, leeching down our connection. Into me. Hurting. Made so, SO much worse, by my having been actively looking for him. I close my eyes, teeth gritting, and trying to stop digging my nails into skin. I-It won't help. There's nothing physically there.

But it hurts! God, does it HURT!

It feels like my WORLD has been shredded. My heart, crushed, cruel and slow in my chest. H-he's having a panic attack. Has to be! Or-! Or being attacked! I d-don't... don't KNOW!

A passing Master has hurried over, now kneels next to me. Various Knights pushing whatever calm and safety the can at me. No one is quite certain what will help. But they try. Desperately, stubbornly, resolute to the last... they TRY.

Breathe with me, begs the Master. Pressing my hand to his chest. Just copy my breathing. Help is coming. Release what pain you can, into the Force. We will help you. Let us help you.

I try.

Desperately, I Try.

The Healers end up having to give us sedatives, Yan and I. Sifo ends up... worse. The entire event triggering another, nasty, round of visions. He is incoherent. Trapped. Staring up at the Death Star from the surface of Alderaan, through countless eyes, begging to be heard. His soul, small and desperate, replaying the end, over and over. Even as he tries to protect what souls he can from the inevitable.

He cries for this too. They won't believe him, I know. Even as he thrashs and begs. For the lives of the innocent to be spared, for monsters to hold their fire. I will though. I will. I always do.

But Sifo will be lost for days. Yan, however? As he sits, on the bed, just the other side me? Sits stiff and properly. Blankly. As the healers words wash over him. I doubt a single on has registered. Of the three of us, I am the only one even remotely functioning. Yet... yet I still, don't know what has happened.

Nodding one last time to the healer assigned to me. Promising that yes, I will most certainly rest. I slip my my bed and sweep over to stand next to Yan's. The Healer's concerned and frustrated. He knows Yan's not listening. But has to try. I shoot him a strained, closed lipped, smile. Quietly take charge of my unresponsive friend.

The Healers relief is palpable. Our notes and instructions are not terribly dissimilar. Rest, food, no missions or upsets. Got it.

Gently, I guide Yan from the Healing Halls. Alarmed, that he let's himself be led. He never let's himself be led like this. Insists he is no invalid, to be coddled. Yet... here he is. Mind a thousand parsecs away.

Bringing him to his rooms, I key in his code then gently guide him to his favorite chair. Lightly guide him down into it. Not... not once, during the entire walk back, has he responded to anything. I am beginning to grow afraid.

Fussing, I drag up that terribly pretentious Serranian musician, on his music system. The one I can't stand. I am worried. Sacrifices must be made. Boring and insipid music fills the room. Very fancy! Come on, Yan. This is his new piece! Don't you want to comment on it? Come, tell me why it's so much better then the racket youngling blast these days. I'll call you an old man...

Nothing.

Worry growing, I begin making his favorite tea. Digging out his special occasion snacks. Something, anything, to get a reaction. As things brew, a sound too wounded to truly be a laugh, chokes it's way out of him.

"Xana-...My..." he starts. Stops. Normally sharp mind refusing to obey him, as he tries to summon words. He looks lost.

"My Grand-Padawan is dead." His voice is brittle, alien sounding in his mouth. I nearly drop the plate of snacks I was carrying over, in response. Horrified. "He was supposed be returning a knight. Qui-gon was.. was so proud of him. Adored him. This has destroyed him. Will destroy all of us. I... I have lost everything."

No. No, you have NOT.

Striding forward and all but dumping the plate on the side table next to him, I reach for my friend with both hands. With my Force presence. I refuse. No, damn it! I Will NOT lose him. Not like this, not TOO this!

Listen. LISTEN to me, Yan Dooku. So help me Stars, Gods both big and small, you will not succumb to this!

The greatest lie the Dark has ever told, is that it will make things better. That it can help you with your pain. Would Xanatos want his death to destroy you? Would the child of your child, want his legacy to be the ruin of everyone he loved? It is okay to grieve. You NEED to grieve. But remember you Padawans. Remember their Padawans.

Your Lineage still lives, Yan Dooku.

It is hurting, mourning, but ALIVE. Don't you dare run from it in your grief. You are better then that. I am here. Sifo and Nu are here. Yoda, is here. We will carry this pain together, okay?

Closing his eyes, he let his head rest more heavily against my hands. Dampness darkened his eyelashes, but no true tears formed or fell. He didn't seem to have it in him. Not yet. His hands though... his hands? Shook as they slowly, haltingly, like a droid with seizing joints, reached out for me.

I moved from leaning over him to sitting on the arm rest of his fancy Serranian high backed chair. That he didn't even grumble over me "abusing his furniture" by putting weight on the arm rest like this? Gods.

Leaning into him, I wrapped my arms around his head and shoulders. Like a shield against the universe. Used the Force to pull the tea, finally done, and pour it into a nice cup. Properly of course. See, Yan? I remember your lectures. Here, drink.

He... did not.

Just leaned, sagged against me, as he shuddered with grief. Hands wrapped around a cup of fragrant tea. Music filling the air. Tucked safe inside my Force presence, as best I could.

In... Out... In... Out... There was a slight stutter to it, a hitch, that in a less controlled man? Might have broken into a sob. But... instead, Yan meditated. That first cup going to waste. The second following, as it slowly went cold. Needs must, though, and tea? Can be replaced. Yan can not.

Emptying wasted cups, I poured more. Rested my head atop his own. Matched his breathing as I slipped into a light meditation with him. The room was quite enough. The position not terribly comfortable. But honestly? We'd both meditated under worse conditions, and it had been... A DAY.

To put it mildly.

I didn't like the look of Yan's Force Presence. It was like a fault line had been struck. Spreading terrible spiderwebbing cracks in otherwise sturdy stone. I was no mind healer... really, not a healer at all, I was a Seeker, but? I had learned a few tricks. After all, not every child I had found? Was found in a safe and loving home. Most weren't, honestly.

You learned to soothe, as a Seeker. Learn how to help. Children, after all, don't know Light from Dark. They just know that if they reach for the magic in their head? Bad things go away and good things tend to happen. Sometimes they hurt themselves by accident. Sometimes they hurt themselves... because the alternative was worse.

"You know, my dear? Some days I think you are the only Jedi with any compassion left. The boy never should have been sent there. Not for his trials. The lives of others are not a child's test. And to be asked to face one's own family? It... it was cruel."

Yan sent his cup around me, to rest on the side table, before gently tugging me down into his lap. He hugged me close, like a child squeezing a stuffed animal for comfort, face buried in the crook between my shoulder and neck. Like he was hiding from the world. I rest my head against his shoulder, eyes closed.

We were both... so tired, weren't we. This was nice.

"When did it all become about proving ones purity? One's superiority of morals? We are supposed to help people. Not lord over them. If I wished to do THAT, I would merely need to return to Serrano. Become a Count. You and Sifo are the only one who seem to understand me."

"I think I would go mad, without you."

Yes. I worry that you would, Yan. I worry that you would.

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skyward-floored · 9 months ago

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Glasses

(Incredibles au)

...

“They’re back!”

At Wind’s shout, Wild shot up and bolted outside to the car pulling into their driveway, slightly using his speed even though he wasn’t supposed to. Four didn’t even have time to tell him to wait before his older brother was hanging off Twilight’s arm and shaking him.

Four felt a flash of annoyance as Wind ran ahead of him as well, but he stuffed it down and ran out to join them, and arrived just in time to hear the tail end of Wind and Wild’s begging.

“Where is it Twi? I want to see your photo! Warriors said they always look bad, I want to see! Let me see it!” they hounded simultaneously, but Twilight only brushed Wild’s hand off his arm with a morose look.

“I didn’t get it.”

Wild stopped in his tracks, and Four and Wind looked at each other, then back at Twilight.

“You... you didn’t get it? Why? How?” Wild said incredulously. “It’s a learner’s permit! They’re like, impossible not to get!”

“How did that happen?” Four asked in confusion.

“Apparently I can’t see well enough to drive,” Twilight mumbled, putting his hands in his pockets. “They said I have to get glasses if I want one.”

“Glasses?!”

Twilight nodded glumly, and his brothers looked at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you need glasses, your vision is great!” Four said with no small indignation on his brother’s behalf, and Twilight just sighed.

“Apparently it’s not good enough to pass the vision test for driving,” he said as Time also got out of the car. “I have to get them, or no learner’s permit.”

“But that’s not fair!” Wind cried, and Time put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s to keep the roads safe, Wind. You wouldn’t want someone who could barely see driving a car next to you, would you?” their father asked, and Wind relented a little.

“...okay, I guess not. But Twi can see fine! He’s never had trouble with looking at stuff!”

“I just barely didn’t pass,” Twilight grumbled. “I swear that lady had it out for me, I think she made the pictures blurrier on purpose.”

“Well we’ll see when we take you in for a proper eye appointment,” Time sighed, and Twilight nodded, still looking disappointed. Their father went inside, and Four watched as Twilight followed him, shoulders slumped and ears drooping.

“Poor Twi,” Wild said, shaking his head in disbelief. Four had to agree.

What a way to find out you needed glasses. And how could Twilight need glasses anyway? His vision was fine!

...then again, now that Four was thinking about it, sometimes Twilight did have some trouble seeing farther away stuff...

Well. It was still unfair.

“Well maybe he won’t actually need them,” Wind piped up. “He said the lady there didn’t like him, right? Maybe she was exaggerating, and when he goes to the eye doctor there won’t be anything wrong!”

“Maybe,” Four said doubtfully.

“Well... I’m gonna go see if Mom has cake ingredients,” Wild said as he began to walk back in the house. “Cake makes everything better.”

“Better make it carrot cake,” Wind said as he followed him. “It’ll help with Twi’s eyes.”

Four raised an eyebrow. “Wind, that’s not a real thing.”

“Well it might be, you never know!”

(...)

A week later, the three of them were once again waiting at the window when Twilight got out of the car, and Wild ran to greet him, Wind and Four trailing behind. This time though, Twilight didn’t even look at any of them, brushing past Wild and turning into a wolf the moment he was safely inside.

“Uh oh,” Four said, and they all looked at their father as he got out of the car.

Time wordlessly held up a glasses case.

“Oh no, poor Twi,” Wind moaned, and Wild looked back at the house. “The carrot cake didn’t work!”

“Wind you didn’t seriously think that was going to help, did you?” Four asked as he raised an eyebrow, and Wind shrugged.

“Well I was hoping for Twilight’s sake.”

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Wild said, but his father snagged his shirt before he could run off, shaking his head.

“Not right now, Wild, he’s not in the best mood. You can talk to him later,” Time said. “Give him some space for now.”

Wild nodded, and Time released his shirt, Four hearing him let out a sigh. Then he walked into the house, probably to tell their mother about the glasses. Legend scooted past him as he walked in, and joined his brothers on the lawn, scratching at his hat.

“I’m guessing by the grumpy wolf in our living room that Twilight didn’t have a good time at the eye doctor?” he asked.

“He got glasses,” Wind reported solemnly, and Legend blinked.

“...That’s all? Sheesh, you’d think he was going blind or something the way he looked at me and ‘rule. Why’s he so upset? They’re just glasses.”

“Are you kidding? Do you remember back when that one guy in Twi’s class got glasses? Everybody teased him, you wouldn’t want to be called four-eyes all the time, would you?” Wild said, then looked at Four. “No offense.”

Four shrugged, unbothered by the phrase (it wasn’t like he had glasses), and Legend raised an eyebrow. “But I thought he just has them for driving, he won’t even need them at school.”

“Unless his eyesight gets worse,” Four pointed out, and Wind elbowed him. “Ow, just sayin’.”

Four rubbed his side as they all began to trail back inside, and Wild scratched his head thoughtfully. “What I don’t get is that I thought wolves had good eyesight,” he said, looking confused. “How does Twilight need glasses if that’s true?”

Four perked up. “Well, they have good all-around vision, but their distance vision isn’t as good as Hylians. They can see movement pretty far away, but not clear details, plus the colors are a bit more muted then what we see,” he rattled off, and his brothers all stared at him. Four coughed. “...I got a wolf book from the library the other week.”

“Well anyway, I bet he’ll get used to the glasses,” Legend shrugged as he kicked his shoes off and walked away. “I’m just not looking forward to him being all mopey in the meantime though.”

A few of them nodded in agreement, and Four peeked into the living room. Twilight was flopped on the floor with his head sitting on his paws, and when he noticed Four looking, he got up and plodded away, tail drooping.

His brothers all watched him pad away, then looked at each other.

“...You’d better make another cake, Wild.”

(...)

Nobody saw much of Twilight the rest of the day, though Four tried to search him out a few times. He obviously wasn’t in the mood to be consoled, and Four went to bed that night wondering if he could do anything to help him.

He couldn’t take away Twilight’s glasses, but there had to be something he could do.

But what?

When Four woke up the next morning he hadn’t had any brilliant ideas, but went he into the bathroom, he found Twilight staring at himself in the mirror, a pair of glasses on his face.

Four froze, then hesitantly walked forward, studying his brother. Twilight flicked an ear at the sound of his footsteps, but didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at himself.

“Morning Twi,” Four ventured, leaning on the counter.

“Mornin’,” Twilight replied distantly, still staring at his reflection.

Four studied him for a second in silence, a bit struck at the unfamiliar figure in the mirror. It was still Twilight, but the glasses changed his appearance a fair amount. Having the frames on his face made Twilight look a little odd already, but he also looked... older, somehow, like he was an adult or something.

...Four wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“You’re trying on your glasses, huh?” Four asked after a minute, and Twilight nodded.

“Yeah. The doctor said I should wear them around so I’m used to them before I try and get my learner’s again or anything.”

“Well they look fine to me,” Four said, and Twilight gave him a half-smile.

“Thanks Smithy,” he said as Wild walked in, their other brother pausing as he grabbed his toothbrush.

“Whoa, weird. They make you look older,” Wild said, tilting his head and staring. “Like... kinda like Dad? But with glasses.”

“Dad with glasses. Thanks Wild,” Twilight snorted, but he didn’t look too bothered. Maybe he’s feeling better about them?

“Well what did you want me to say? That you look like a nerd?” Wild asked, and Twilight gave him a flat look.

“No, actually. Thanks.”

“Well he does kinda look like a nerd,” Legend said as he wandered in, drawn by the sound of their conversation. “A nice nerd. The kind that knows how to do calculus but still cries at baby birds— ack!”

While Legend was speaking, Twilight had reached over and grabbed him.

Four ducked out of the way while Legend tried to escape, and Wild laughed as Twilight noogied his brother, somehow managing to make Legend’s bedhead even messier.

“Alright alright stoppit! I take it back, you don’t look like a nerd!” Legend squawked, and Twilight released him, dusting his hands off. Legend grumpily smoothed his hair down, then smirked a little. “...they do make you look like some old dusty professor though.”

Twilight grabbed at him again, but Legend ducked and turned invisible, laughter and rapid footsteps quickly retreating from the room. Twilight huffed, and as he looked back at Wild and Four, Wild quickly muffled his laughter.

“Ah whatever, go ahead and laugh,” Twilight said with an eye roll. “I know they make me look dorky.”

Four frowned at the hint of bitterness in his voice. Okay, so maybe he isn’t feeling better about them after all. “I don’t think they make you look dorky,” he defended, and Wild nodded, starting in on brushing his teeth.

“I fink they make youwook fmart,” he said with a mouthful of toothpaste. “Wike a fwibrarian or somefwin.”

“Like a Librarian. Right. Just the look I want,” Twilight sighed, and he looked at himself in the mirror again.

Wild finished brushing and spat, and Four caught Twilight’s sleeve, making sure he was looking.

“Don’t listen to Legend, he’s just being dumb,” Four said. “And Wild. I think the glasses look nice, they don’t make you look bad.”

“Hey, I never said they looked bad,” Wild defended, and Twilight snorted.

“You kinda implied it.”

“Okay well maybe I did, but I wasn’t trying to.” Twilight still looked unimpressed. “Okay okay, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you; if anyone at school gives you trouble, I’ll beat them up,” Wild said with a grin as he pounded his fist into his palm.

“No, nope, no fights at school,” Twilight said, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I appreciate the thought, though. Thanks Wild. And you too, Four.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Wild said with some finger guns, though the effect was a bit ruined by the toothpaste on his chin. Then he zipped off, and Twilight and Four were left alone again.

Twilight glanced at the mirror and his smile fell a bit, and Four frowned. “Hey Twi?”

“Yeah?” his older brother asked, and Four nudged him.

“I think you look nice. For real. The glasses make you look... mature. Smart,” Four said. “And I’d split now and tell you with four people except Red would probably cry and I don’t want to look like I’ve been crying.”

Twilight chuckled, and gave his hair a bit of a ruffle. “No worries. Thanks Four.”

Four smiled. “You’re welcome.”

The two of them finished in the bathroom then, Four still keeping an eye on Twilight. He still didn’t seem too happy about the glasses, giving his reflection an uneasy look as they left the bathroom, but at least he seemed more cheery overall as they went downstairs. That was a win in Four’s book.

And if anyone at school did give Twilight any flack about the glasses... well.

Maybe Wild’s idea wasn’t such a bad one.

#set sometime after the movie-ish #linkeduniverse #linked universe #incredibles au #lu twilight #lu four #lu Wild #linked universe fic #incredibles au fic #writing from the floor #also #based somewhat off a true story #my poor sister XD #anyways I did my research on wolf vision but I apologize if the stuff here is incorrect #looking up ‘are wolves nearsighted’ didn’t get many results unfortunately

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