#i'm bound to get their heights wrong

[lucidd-the-weirdo]

New object ocs!! Hair Ball and Hay Bale!!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ma'am VI

Aitana Bonmatí x Royal!Reader

Summary: You come home after a meeting

"Sorry," You laughed," This must be a pretty elaborate joke."

But no one at the table was laughing and your own petered off uncertainly.

"No, I'm serious. Who's pulling this prank?"

You glanced between your father and your brother but neither of them had a hint of a smile on their faces.

"I understand that this might come as a surprise-"

"A surprise?! You're not telling me you're actually serious."

"Y/n," Your brother said," I know that this isn't what you expected-"

You stood up, hands slamming onto the table. "No! You can't be serious. I wasn't even born second in line. Are you crazy? This is breaking, like, years of tradition!"

"As the reigning king, I'm well within my rights to-"

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should!"

"It's already been decided," Your father cut in, holding your gaze unwaveringly," William does not wish to be King and does not wish to for his children to feel the same pressure. Harry has already made his own thoughts on the moment known. It falls-"

"If you say it falls to me, I swear to god-"

"As my only other child, you are next in line."

"Do you understand how crazy you sound? Skipping over two perfectly good lines of succession to instate your youngest child as heir?! What will the media-"

"The media has no say in family decisions," Your father said," Don't think of them. Is it truly this bad for you? That you cannot see a world where you sit on the throne?"

You pursed your lips, glancing away from your father to your brother. "This is truly what you want? William, you and Kate are beloved-"

"I want what's best for my family, I hope you can understand that."

You narrowed your eyes at your brother, poking your finger into his chest. "You so owe me for this," You told him," Big time."

He grinned. "So that's a yes?"

You rolled your eyes. "Well," You said," I always did look better with a crown than the rest of you."

It was only on the flight home that you'd realised just what you agreed to, though to use the word agree would probably be wrong. Your agreement didn't matter much at all actually. With or without your consent, it would have happened.

Something that you realised with startling clarity the moment you stepped through the front door.

The decision had been made.

Now all you needed to do was tell your wife.

"Well, hello, Rufus," You cooed as your nine week old Corgi came bounding towards you," Were you good for your Mami? I think you were!"

"The girls are training were all spoiling him," Aitana said, hip leaning against the wall and arms crossed over her chest," You're home late."

"Meeting ran over," You replied, looping your arms around Aitana's waist to pull her closer," I missed you though."

"I know," She said," You only sent me twenty-thousand messages telling me."

"Don't be stupid," You said," It was at least thirty-thousand."

Aitana rolled her eyes, dropping a soft kiss to your lips.

"Well your son kept me very good company."

"Our son," You corrected, leaning down to pick up the happy Rufus so he could join in," Like I knew he would. He's a good boy."

"Well that good boy took over your side of the bed so you might not be getting it back."

"That's okay. There's a perfectly nice bed at Buckingham Palace waiting for us."

"A bed in which Rufus will sleep in," Aitana insisted and you rolled your eyes, lifting up your wiggling puppy to eye height.

"You win this round, Mr, but don't go around thinking that you're stealing my wife and my side of the bed."

Rufus licked your nose.

"Yeah, I love you too."

"Me or the dog?"

"Both?"

"Good."

It isn't until early evening that you get the chance to tell Aitana about your meeting, when you're curled up in bed together and her head is pillowed on your chest.

"William has withdrawn himself and his children from the line of succession," You said, voice low like it was something secret you were telling her," And Harry's already done the same."

"I don't understand," Aitana said, drawing a soft pattern on your stomach with her finger," What does that mean for us?"

Your muscles tensed under her touch and you had to remind yourself to breath.

"Well, with my brothers and their lines are out," You replied," I mean, technically, it falls-"

"To you," Aitana said," You're next in line."

"I can always abdicate," You explained," I won't take the crown if you don't want me to. I can always-"

You didn't get to finish your thought because Aitana surged forward to plant a kiss on your lips.

"I think," She said," You would look very good in a crown."

"Yeah? I mean, you'd get a crown too."

"Shh," Aitana said, grinning as kisses were given lower and lower," Let's focus on you first."

[yanderedrabbles]

THE SINNERS WELCOME YOU

TW: noncon and yanderes ahead

Hi! I'm val and this is where you can find everything I've written. Maybe bring protection? These boys are not nice.

Requests: closed for now

Current Anons: 🍪 anon, 🎨 anon, 🐰 anon, ♥️ anon, 🐧anon, 🧷anon, 📌 anon, 📮 anon, ⚙ 🤖 anon

What I won't write about: pregnancy

Art & Doodles

Yandere Witch: She adores anything cute and turns you into a plushy just to cuddle.

You on a shelf You getting cuddles

Drabbles, Imagines & Oneshots

Yandere Sugar Daddy: Money can't buy love, but maybe it doesn't have to.

Yandere Cyberpunk Mercenary: A ruthless mercenary and you, his spoilt little prize.

Letters from a Yandere Vampire: A handsome stranger seems intent on courting you but his letters hide a darker secret.

The worst sort: Drabble about the most sleazy and perverted type of yandere.

Cheat on me please: Your boyfriend just won't let you break up.

Lovesick Dogs: Drabble about poor fools who love like wretched dogs.

Yandere Mobster: Chicago - 1931The Height of Prohibition The mafia is earning top dollar smuggling alcohol into the country. And one mobster has his eye on you.

You wouldn't reject him, would you?

Yandere Gladiator: A man can become a god in the arena. But all he fights for is you.

Yandere Cyberpunk Riot Control Officer [noncon] There's nothing he hates more than degenerates and rioters. When he gets his hands on, he's going to pound some law and order into you.

Cyberpunk Yanderes: A little drabble about neon soaked streets and criminals with their eye on you.

Cyberpunk Yanderes with an oblivious country Darling

Yandere Greek Champion x Priestess Reader [noncon] He was chosen by the Gods to slaughter, to strike down all who stand against him. Your city has fallen at last and he has come to claim his prize.

Yandere Stalker/Cop: A vicious stalker has been terrorising you for months. Luckily, your friendly neighbourhood cop is around to comfort you.

Yandere Apocalypse Survivor: The world you know is dead and gone. And he's the only reason you're still alive.

Yandere Soldier [noncon] He knows what he's doing is wrong, but if he closes his eyes, he can convince himself that your muffled cries are moans for him to keep going.

Yandere Soldier - Stockholm Syndrome: It was bound to happen eventually, right?

Softcore Yandere Boyfriend: A guy who has every yandere urge in the book and is trying very hard to be normal about it.

Yandere Boyfriend Surprise Party: How does your Yandere! Boyfriend react when you start acting distant and keeping secrets from him? Yandere Boyfriend as a husband: He might be jealous of the kids but shhh. Way of the yandere house husband: More things your hubby does for you. Yandere Boyfriend as a gym buddy: You're his favourite kind of cardio. Yandere Boyfriend x Coquette Reader: You can put bows on him if you ask nicely.

Yandere Cowboy [noncon] He just wants a roll in the hay. It doesn't matter if he has to hold you down to get it.

Yandere Cowboy - Proposal: Does he ever learn to be sweet with you? Yandere Cowboy - Jealousy: You're his girl and he ain't gonna stand around and let some other bastard steal you away.

Yandere Cop [noncon] All you want is to get home after a midnight shift and relax. But a State Trooper pulling you over on an isolated stretch of road is more than you bargained for.

Yandere Cop - Baby Trapped: You're stuck in a position where you just can't say no anymore.

Yandere Ganster x Mafia Boss Reader: He's your loyal dog. Now and always.

Yandere Ganster - Jealousy: For the first time, he sees you be physical with another man. And he's trying his hardest not to punch the bastard right in the mouth. Yandere Ganster - Rainy Days: After a difficult job, he comes back soaked and shivering. Naturally, you think of a few ways to warm him up.

Yandere Desert Bandit [dubcon] When planning to cross the desert, all travellers are warned about the bandits. Heartless, they're called. Brutal. Inhuman. So why has one of them fallen in love with you?

Yandere Desert Bandit - Aftermath: Son of the sand, his touch isn't gentle. But perhaps he can learn.

Yandere Incubus x Nun Reader [noncon] A new priest had joined your convent and you can't help the sinful thoughts you have about him.

Yandere Academic Rival: He'll do whatever it takes to be the best.

The Yandere Boys

Who's your yandere soulmate? [Quiz - coming soon] Their favourite positions Their kinks What do they look like? When you're sick/hurt yourself Which Yandere boy is the most manipulative? If you cheat on them Their body preferences If you refuse to eat If you try and leave them If you're bisexual

Misery - a short story [in progress]

Based on Misery by Stephen King

Stuck in the mountains, you foolishly decide to drive through a blizzard. The man that drags you from your wrecked car brings you to his cabin and patches you up. But as the snow piles up outside, you start to suspect that your rescuer's intentions may be far from pure.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Upcoming Works

Yandere Roommates: With your boss mysteriously firing you and your job applications getting lost in the mail, it's no surprise that you can't afford rent this month. Lucky for you, your roommates have a very generous offer.

Yandere Pirates: A spoiled aristocrat's daughter, you're crossing the Atlantic in a heavily guarded ship. Pirates assume guns and guards mean treasure but when all they find is you, they decide to make the best of their luck.

Yandere Wild West Sheriff: Ain't you just the sweetest lil thing?

[chaotic-toasters]

Up the Stairs?

This actually happened to me one time LMAO

England Lionesses x Teen!Reader

------------------------

"I'm not climbing those creepy old stairs!" Ella protested. "Y/N and Hannah should go. They're the youngest and the most fit, so if there's a serial killer hiding in the stairwell, they can outrun them. I'm taking the lift, I don't care."

You rolled your eyes. "C'mon, Hannah. Let's go."

"Tooney's such a baby," the Keeper laughed, matching your stride as you approached the hotel's staircase. "I swear, she believes the dumbest things."

You snickered. "Right?"

Hannah started climbing the steps, but you began bounding up them three at a time instead of your usual two. The girls always said you were childish, and this was one of the reasons why.

Because you weren't used to the extra height, you tripped, moving your hand out in front of you to break your fall. However, the sudden impact to your hand sent a sharp pain shooting down from your wrist to your forearm.

"Oh my days," Hannah grimaced, forcing you to sit as she gingerly picked up your hand. "How much does it hurt?"

You squinted at her. "On a scale of what?"

"One to 'take me to A&E, I'm dying'."

"Meh."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right. That crack echoed 'round the stairwell."

"That's just because the acoustics in here are really good," you dismissed her concern. "Seriously, Hannah. I'm fine."

"I'm still telling everybody," she warned. "We need to keep an eye on it. You might not have any symptoms now, but that can change in a few days."

You groaned. "Fiiine."

-----------------

"Are you hurt?! What happened?" Rachel yelled in your ear, startling you. "How did you break your hand?! Are you alright?"

You scooted away from her and closer to Alessia. "I'm fine, Rach. And I didn't break it, it's just a scratch."

"Scratch? More like a loud arse crack," Hannah shook her head. "I think we should take you to the medics. Even if you aren't feeling too much pain and it's not broken, you might have sprained it or something."

You pouted, turning to your more empathetic teammates pleadingly. "Lessi, Niamhy, tell them I don't need to! I'm literally fine."

"Sorry, kiddo," Alessia smiled apologetically. "I'm with Rach and Hannah on this one. If it goes untreated, it'll heal wrong and you'll have chronic pain."

Niamh nodded her agreement, a sheepish look on her face.

You turned to your last hope. "Hempo?"

The forward picked up your hand, turning it over and observing it. "Nah, you're fine."

"She doesn't even have full range of motion!" Hannah exclaimed. "Her wrist can't move in a circle smoothly."

"I'll go to the medics if it gets worse," you grumbled. "Now let me be."

An awkward grin spread across Rachel's face, causing you to frown. "What?"

She looked down, unable to remain neutral. "I- uh... I texted Leah."

As if on cue, the door flew open, revealing a very worried Captain England. "Y/N! What the hell did you do?"

You gasped, glaring at your traitorous teammate. "You snitch!"

"Get up, we're going to the medics," Leah pulled you up by your non-injured hand. "Come on, let's go."

You tried to remain still. "Leah-"

"We're going," Leah grunted, throwing you over her shoulder despite your protests. "You're not getting out of this."

You stared glumly at the floor, ignoring the giggles of your teammates.

"I need a medic for this one," Leah declared as she entered the room, setting you down on a chair. "She fell down the stairs."

Sarina's head whipped towards you. "What?!"

You looked at Leah indignantly. "No, I fell up the stairs. Get it right."

Leah threw up her hands in exasperation. "How do you fall up the stairs?"

"I was going up and I tripped," you answered, frowning when one of England's medics held up your arm and hand. "I fell onto the step above me."

Sarina sighed, rubbing her temples. "Did she fracture it or anything?"

The medic shook his head. "Likely a mild sprain, especially if she can still somewhat move it. We'll give her a wrist brace. I'm sure you know how that works, Y/N."

You gave Leah the stink-eye. "This is all your fault."

"No, this is all your fault," she corrected, patting you on the shoulder. "You're the one who likes to go up multiple steps at a time."

"Whatever," you stuck out your tongue, taking the brace from the medic. "We all know that this is really all Tooney's fault."

Leah paused. "Yeah, that's true."

[sanguineterrain]

Femjay you say 👀 how about the classic "you're alive?!" confrontation with a sprinkle of pining

sprinkle of pining you say-oh dear! i've dumped the whole bag in! along with a jar of erotic violence! whoopsies...

female!jason todd x afab!reader. violence, angy jay, reader being held down, crying, reunion. remember that girl best friend you had highkey lesbian tension with? yeah.

****

It's her eyes you recognize first, oddly enough, through her cracked helmet. You shouldn't recognize her at all, with how everything about her has changed. Even the way she looks at you is different. You've never seen Jay Todd so ferocious.

"You weren't supposed to be here!" she screams.

It's true, you weren't. You stumbled across your dead best friend by accident, found her hissing and vicious with a shattered helmet and a smoking gun. Four dead men surround her.

"Get out."

All you can do is stare. She's alive. She's back. She's yours.

"Jay..."

Okay, you lied. This wasn't an accident. This was fate that you played a hand in. This was what was bound to happen after Jay got too close, let herself get seen. You've had an itch for months, eyes on your back. You're a civilian now, sure, but you loved a bat once.

She pries off her helmet and your breath hitches. God, she's beautiful.

"What is wrong with you? You could've fuckin' gotten shot."

Your legs start moving. Your arms part. You expect the feel of a soft cape between your fingers, black curls to tickle your chin due to a height difference you never let her forget.

Jay drops her gun, grabs your wrists, and knocks the wind out of you in a graceful takedown. You can't even be mad.

"You're alive," you choke out.

When she was Robin, you had a slim chance of physically overtaking her. Now, double in size and muscle, Jay keeps you pushed to the ground with no chance of getting free. Her hands hold you by your wrists, body hovering close so you can't move much.

Her eyes are wild. A mix of blue and green. More green than you remember. Her irises have swallowed her pupils and her curls are knotted and frizzy. You feel inexplicably hunted.

"How dare you?" she spits. "How fuckin' dare you come here?"

"Jay," you say softly, unable to keep your eyes fixed on one part of her. You're afraid to blink and make her disappear.

"I could've shot you," she says. "You could be dead right now."

"You're a good shot."

You mean it as a compliment. Jay only seems to get angrier.

"I have to be. I'm the only one keeping myself alive," she says. You make a weak noise in your throat.

"I should've looked for you," you say.

She scoffs. "Don't say stupid shit. You're smarter than that."

"I should've," you insist. "I should've found you. I felt you."

"Yeah? Feel how I could tear you apart? It comes so easy now, you have no idea. 'M fuckin' soaked with blood."

You stay silent. Jay's eyes flash. She leans in, breath hot on your ear.

"Are you scared?" she asks like she knows the answer.

But she doesn't.

Your legs part further so she can kneel comfortably. You shake your head.

Jay snarls. "You should be. I've killed people. I'll keep killing."

"It's okay," you say. "You're angry. It's okay to be angry. I don't blame you. No one does."

"Stop talking like that!" she yells, tears in her eyes. "Stop talking like we're friends. We aren't friends. You don't know me!"

"But I do," you say, limp beneath her, like a lamb caught in a wolf's bite. "Jay, I do."

"No, you don't," she snaps. Her voice is mocking, brittle. "You know your fancy publishing job in a big shiny office, away from this shithole, and-and fuckin' Paul from Marketing who brings you banana pancakes from the diner."

Your breath comes out in a careful exhale. "You've been keeping tabs on me. How long have you been back?"

Jay's mouth quivers as she bares her teeth. "I took you to that diner. It was mine first."

"It never stopped being yours," you say quietly.

"You—" Jay growls in frustration. Her hands squeeze your wrists. "This isn't how it's s'posed to go. Hate me, hate me. I'm a monster."

"You're not."

"You're fuckin' deluded," she says, eyes glassy with tears. "Fuckin'—sleep so heavy, like I can't slip in and smother you. No one would know. Make tea in your-your robe, don't even pull the curtains shut. I can see you. Anyone can."

"I missed you, Jay," you say, a heart-shaped lump in your throat.

"And so what?" she asks, tears falling down her cheeks. "So fuckin' what if you missed me? You kept living."

You try to pull your hand free, and to your surprise, you do. Jay lets you slip out of her grip. You use your free hand to hold her scarred cheek, wipe her tears with your thumb.

Jay is perfectly still for several moments. Then she wraps two big hands around your ribs, pulls your shoulders forward like nothing, and rests her cheek on your chest. She shakes into your skin, kneeling between your legs.

You hug her head, smell her new-old smell, and let her curls tickle your chin once again.

[baedreamverse]

hidden love — s.jy

enhypen jake head cannon

warnings: college!au, age gap by two years with Jake, reader attends a different uni from him.

brother's best friend!Jake who first encountered you from a young age in middle school.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you haven't seen in a while ever since your older brother chose to attend a university with Jake three hours away from home.

brother's best friend!Jake greeted you with a bright smile, approaching you with a hug whilst messing up your hair.

"You're still the same height the last time I saw you," he playfully teases.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you have a small crush on since your first year of high school.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you have a bantering relationship with since you're both competitive.

"Nuh-uh, it's out of bounds!"

brother’s best friend!Jake who has a golden retriever vibe, in which you have a tendency to pat his head when he does something cute.

brother’s best friend!Jake who has a great sense of fashion taste, sometimes helping you pick out which clothes to buy when you ask.

brother's best friend!Jake who used to hang out at your house after school back then.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you have daily walks with Layla.

brother's best friend!Jake who’s love language is quality time.

“Want to build Lego’s with me downstairs?”

brother's best friend!Jake is great at playing sports such as soccer, baseball, badminton, and rugby.

"Let's take a break! I'm sweating too much, look-"

brother's best friend!Jake who is academically smart with honors.

brother's best friend!Jake who plays the violin for his school band.

brother's best friend!Jake who used to tutor you on your studies.

brother's best friend!Jake who easily gets scared from the loudest noise, especially when you drag him along to the horror night events, which he doesn’t really mind as long as he’s with you (in this case, he’s either hiding behind you or leaving you behind)

brother's best friend!Jake whom you tried to move on from your one-sided love by going on dates and hanging out more with friends.

brother's best friend!Jake whom you can't avoid at the house when he comes over during university breaks.

"Did I do something wrong?" He grasped onto your wrist, stopping you from your track, "You're acting different than usual."

brother's best friend!Jake who just realized he has feelings for you when he picked you up from your college dinner outing.

brother's best friend!Jake who looks out for you when you're attending parties with him and your brother.

brother’s best friend!Jake who wraps his arms around you from behind, glaring at the guy in front of you who’s been pestering you nonstop at the party.

“Who’s this, love? Is he bothering you?”

brother’s best friend!Jake who lends you his hoodies, loving the way you look in them, which are still in your closet. he'll switch out the hoodies once in a while so his cologne lingers a bit longer when you do wear them.

brother’s best friend!Jake who makes you blush by complimenting you every chance he gets.

"Your smile is so pretty."

"You look beautiful today."

brother’s best friend!Jake who you encountered at the movies with your close friends.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here. What movie did you watch?"

"Let me drive you back home."

"Do you want to eat dinner together?"

brother's best friend!Jake who secretly enjoys having you play with his long hair, of course he won't admit it.

brother's best friend!Jake who pouts when you don't focus your attention on him.

brother's best friend!Jake who loves cooking ramen for you when you come over to his house.

brother's best friend!Jake who becomes awkward seeing you cry, in which he tries to comfort you with hugs.

"I hate seeing you cry.."

"Let's go to that spot you've been wanting to go, my treat."

brother's best friend!Jake who charms you with his smile.

"I know I'm handsome but you might want to close your mouth before a fly goes in."

“I’m starting to think you have a crush on me.”

a/n: hii, i'm back with another short cannon~ as you can tell, this is inspired by the c-drama "hidden love". i totally recommend watching it! im in love with the trope. I hope you enjoyed reading this~ Jake really has that older brothers best friend vibe. do you also get that from him or is it just me? lol btw have you watched ENHYPENs performance at KCON LA '24?? im so happy they added paranormal and fatal trouble into the setlist. ENHA really is the main event there, it felt like their concert. im so glad they had fun performing.

ENGENES if you have the time, pls: -> VOTE for XO on ALLCHART app under 'PRE-VOTE' -> VOTE ENHYPEN on the UPICK app under 'KWDA Boy Group Popularity Award' -> STREAM XO on YT, Stationhead, or Spotify We need more man power in regards to streaming and voting so we can help our boys earn more awards. If you have any questions, just lmk and i'll try my best to guide you. ^^

☆ pls like & reblog ☆

[bobbeshwar]

kenji sato x reader

Sort of fluff | Kenji x sort of mean fem!reader | Love me some Kenji

I saw a TikTok that said if Kenji found out how many fangirls he has he would eat that shit up. Like I feel like he would def flex on the regular about it, he's so conceited. You cannot convince me otherwise…

Anyway, I'm like imagining him with a reader who is a little mean and intimidating and you guys just got into an argument. Y’all need to see the vision, he needs someone that can humble him!!

It's practically the middle of the night, Emi snoozing soundly in her little capsule, your shared home quiet save for the two of you yelling. Your arguing is bound to wake her up soon.

"Out, Kenji." You said firmly, an effort to end the argument. You’re seated at the edge of the bed, legs crossed in your silky pajamas. You nod your head towards the half-open bedroom door with a glare that tells him you’re not looking for a response.

“I’m not the one in the wrong here.” He scoffs, stalking towards you, “If anyone is leaving, its should be you.” He ignores the anxiousness slowly growing in his chest, the slight fear of what you would do or say in response, but if there was one thing that Kenji Sato didn’t do, it was backing down.

You stood up, craning your neck slightly to look up at your partner’s face. Most times, the height difference between you and Kenji comforted you, but now it irritated you to no end. It wasn’t hard to get the reigns on Kenji, you were walking him like a dog ever since you started your relationship, but right now you couldn’t be more pissed off. He was in the wrong goddamnit.

“Are you making me repeat myself, Kenji?” You seethed, feeling slight delight at the way his hardened expression sort of faltered as you peered up at him.

He let out a loud sigh before grumbling and walking away from you to his side of the bed to snatch a pillow, you rolled your eyes at the sound of his little mumbles under his breath.

“Hope you have a good night.” You knew it was rubbing salt in the wound but you couldn’t help it.

Kenji, who was seconds from opening the door and leaving turned to you, “Yeah, I’m gonna have a great night! There are plenty of women online who would be happy to share a bed with me!”

You turn your head so fast it might as well break and fall off, “What did you just say to me?”

Kenji’s eyes widen at the sight of you, “N-Nothing, good night!” He says weakly before shutting the door behind him.

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

The Tragedy of What Was (pt. 2)

masterlink

A/N: yeah no yall im alive yet have no life (school and life are coming for me). im so sorry it's literally been MONTHS but uhm here is whatever this is. Transaltions are at the end for the german words (pls dont kill me i used google translate) pls pls let me know your thoughts:)

warnings: unintended self harm, allusions to depression, bad grammar and spelling.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Wistful wind caressed your strands as it fleeted through your hair. The Geneva winds were kind on the sunny day as you sat on the cherry brown bench. Pen and leather-bound journal in hand, the words on your page turned blurry when your focus shifted.

The new metropolitan park was not too busy during the midday, which was likely the cause of your attention shift. A few feet in front of your feet, a deep charcoal grey pigeon rested awkwardly due to its pain in its left wing. The angle of the wing was unnatural, but you knew not from vision but feel. The alignment of the bones was all wrong, and it pierced through the status quo of the bird's natural gravity. Quiet, weeping chirps were all the poor creature could manage.

Your grip on your journal tightened as you focused on the world and air around you. A breath in, and it felt like surfing on smooth liquid; you felt all the slight crevices and edges of the snapped bones in the pigeon’s wing. A breath out, paired with a sharp call of pain, and the wing was returned to its natural state. You watched as its yellow beady eyes scanned in amazement while it flapped its wings over and over again, testing out the sudden fix.

Within a few moments, the small creature trusted your care enough to take flight, a successful venture that brought a satisfied smile to your lips. Even if small, it brought you a special kind of warmth to know you helped just one living creature live life a little easier. You didn't interact much with people, so your "patients" were often the concerning amount of injured animals who occupied the various cities across the globe you were dragged along to.

It was an odd life you walked in. Your days were spent in peaceful parks, calm cafes, and buzzing bookshops. So surrounded by life, yet you felt you lacked one of your own. Your train of thoughts was starting to buzz in a headache, but you were never good at regulating yourself as the spiral began. The years of a singular chase — Sebastian Shaw — were coming to an end as each lead got you and Erik oh so close. A thought that should have made you happy but only had your body feel unbearable with the weight of your anxiety about the future. You had no proper education as your childhood was spent moving from place to place. Those days after the camps.

The breath you were seemingly holding let itself out in a painful escape. You needed to clear your mind of such consuming thoughts or at least do it in a fashion that did not play into your body's instinct to cause self-agony. The more you tried to stop, the more the pain in your skull intensified. Flashes of knives, sounds of buzzing, and hands — crack! One tiny little burst in the rough surface of your skull. A pattern that would have likely continued if not for the rough voice breaking you out of the tunnel of misery you were sure to experience.

"And how many birds have to thank you today?"

Erik's impressive height had you turning your head upwards, ignoring the pain raging through your head. He wasn't ignorant to your tendencies, but rather the intensity of the involuntary reactions. So you tried your best to hide it behind a smile and harshly crinkled eyes hidden behind a chic pair of white sunglasses.

"I'm not one to keep count, but if you must know... four. I'm starting to get concerned about how many I've had to help out."

You get off the bench and walk beside your older brother as he lightly scoffs at your response. You quickly pack away your very light leather-bound notebook, the mass you manipulated a long time ago to make it easier to carry around.

"The reach of humanity's cruelty is not surprising."

Even behind the dark-lensed glasses and Erik looking forward towards the busy street, you made a show of rolling your eyes.

"All this talk, yet I don't see you protesting for birds' rights."

It was then his turn to roll his eyes as his rigid posture made its way across the newly paved crosswalk. He never said a word of where he was taking you two, but that wasn't a new aspect of your very complicated brother. You could only assume it was back to the hotel you rented out only yesterday so you could check out and travel to yet another place on your wild goose chase. The globe-trotting would have been endearing if it wasn't fueled and caged within the confines of brutal revenge. A revenge you have rarely taken part in as Erik deliberately left you behind on his deliberation missions.

You weren't bloodthirsty like Erik, not that you blamed him. He took the hits twice as hard, once for himself and once for you. Though he could not stop all the attacks; reality still drew its blood. Suddenly, you realized that Erik had yet to elaborate on his meeting with the Nazi associate at the bank. You stared at him expectantly. He couldn't feel glances and other movements as tangibly as you, but you knew this wasn't ignorance.

"So..."

The tall man took a short look to his left toward you to silence any pestering questions when he was taken aback.

"Are those new glasses?"

You ignored him swiftly, fighting the twitching need to adjust them. "I was right, wasn't I?"

"That's the third pair in a month, Y/N."

"Argentina. I've been saying this for how long?"

"Y/N." His tone was grave and pertinent, but you couldn't succumb. You didn't want to acknowledge the truth, so you kept up your mask of smugness.

"I think this confirms that I indeed do have a second mutation that lets me see the future."

All cheery brags were halted, as was the entirety of your body. You kept your eyes forward as your weak defense, in the form of the cream-colored cat-eye glasses, was swept away and pulled effortlessly into Erik's calloused fingers.

Trying and failing, you hissed in pain as the afternoon light burned through each river of blood splattering your eyes.

You hissed as the sunlight stung your eyes. In an instant, the intense light dimmed as your eyelids shut in an effort to protect your sensitive irises. You walked so perfectly and casually that no one would even realize you had no vision. The vibrant feeling of every object and organism called out, guiding you along the way. One good thing about shutting out the visual world was avoiding Erik's disapproving glare.

"Why are you wearing these?"

Eyes still shut, the invisible strings pulling on every fighting molecule tugged the now slightly broken accessory. It was incorrectly angled, a problem likely caused by Erik's careless and harsh grip. You really liked that pair. Though that wasn't much of the reason why frustration began swirling in your heavy sighs.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the little fact that my eyes are blood-busted? Who would have thought having nerves that self-explode would cause some sensitivity!" you grumbled. "Stop thinking I'm ashamed of my mutation, Erik. My injury makes me sensitive, and while the sun burns the normal retina, it boils me alive. It's a shield from the sun, not my identity. Like I've been explaining for the past decade."

You muttered the last part, feeling a slight insecurity. Over the years, your vision had cleared up, but you still had the scars. Swirling snakes of crimson still slithered in your glassy orbs, even all these years later. Your body and mind grew, yet those eyes remained the same. A symbol of a scared little girl. One who couldn't hurt a fly but could shatter each one of her bones in an instant.

Erik huffed as if he didn't fully believe you, which he likely didn't. He doubted the only thing bothering you about your eyes was the pain and not what caused it. "Something is still bothering you. Your eyes have been more sensitive than usual, isn't that so? You keep breaking glasses."

You opened your mouth to argue when he hit you with an argument you couldn't deny.

"The air around you is suffocating at night when I come back or wake up early. Like when we first left the camps."

You felt your heavy breaths settle uncomfortably in your paused lungs. Swiftly, the fashionable glasses were back on your pretty face. They were only a centimeter crooked. A lone tear protruded from your lacrimal and slid solemnly down your cheek. Erik felt the atmosphere becoming colder, even though there had been no shift in the general temperature. He knew you wanted the conversation to end, but you couldn't keep ignoring whatever was eating you alive because, one of these days, it would physically crush you. Your emotions had been playing roulette with your psyche and connected body for far too long to keep getting empty bullets.

The looming hotel leered from above you as you walked through the shiny revolving door effortlessly. Your strides were far shorter than Erik's long legs, but you were stubborn. A trait that he dreaded being on the other side of. Finally, your legs were forced to pause their march as you awaited the luxury elevators.

"What is it that you cannot talk to me about?"

Dark-lensed glasses still on inside the artificially lit hotel, you kept your head forward. The air still acted like guards from Erik's inquisition.

"So, Argentina?"

The tall man huffed, knowing if he pushed any further, you would push yourself into a new set of injuries. Numerous past experiences taught him the extent of your uncontrollability.

"We are leaving tonight. Pack your bags."

Ding!

"Never have enough time to unpack anyways."

And with that, you slipped through the doors of the gold-encrusted elevator.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

The Argentinian sun rays were blissful upon your skin—a welcoming feeling after the odd prickles of discomfort dancing upon your goosebumps. Though the break was short-lived. Following the same pattern you had since the '40s, as soon as your feet touched foreign ground, Erik went off on his own. As you walked across the dirt and stone streets of the small rural town, surrounded by beautifully secluded mountains and lush greenery, you felt just as grown as you did when you were 10. The feeling of uselessness was one you had never gotten used to—just one item on the exhausting list. Self-pity had never done you any good, so the tiny, warmly inviting shop seemed like a good distraction.

Your deep maroon leather notebook had filled its last pages, much to your irritation, on the plane ride over. Writing was always your one sure cure for clarity, and you wrote as much as you could in the metal contraption flying unnaturally through the air. You felt everything too vividly, and it suffocated you. You often wondered whether or not Erik enjoyed being surrounded by so much power, though you never managed enough courage to ask.

The colorful bells rang above your head as you smiled at the dark-haired, pretty woman behind the counter. Walking straight into the nearest aisle to avoid conversation, it found you regardless. As you were taking off your glasses to observe your surroundings, you found yourself right in front of what you were searching for—an array of bound journals shining beneath the sunlight. Squinting to adjust to the light change, you realized that your sudden stop wasn't due to a wall but rather a middle-aged man with fair brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a thick mustache.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden collision. The sight of your reaction caused the man’s own eyes to mirror your expression. It was hard not to feel ashamed and timid as he took his time gawking.

Turning away, you focused on a rich blue version of the journal you already had. The urge to hide from his stare behind your glasses tugged at your heart while your fingers shakily grasped the journal. The look in his eyes reminded you of men so sinister they transcended the bounds of the moniker.

“Do not be ashamed, leibling.”

The roughness in his aged voice was oddly laced with a smooth layer of reassurance. The warm blood flowing in your veins halted at the term of endearment. He caught onto your surprise and gave a sigh of acknowledgment.

“I can always tell a beauty from the motherland. Far too many have been running away here. Though that would make me a hypocrite, no?”

You looked at the unnerving man. Keeping silent would only do you more harm than good.

“I was not sure I was so noticeable.”

You didn’t want to be. You never were. All you wished was to be in those lush fields you saw on your way here. Away. Far away from the watchful eyes of those gray memories.

“I am not here to stay. Business trip with my brother.”

The sound of your stutters in your mother tongue made you cringe. It had been so long since you’d had a lasting conversation with someone in German. The only times you ever practiced it consistently were in your writings and mutterings to yourself. Erik stopped using it with you a few years after you turned your back on Auschwitz. Only in anger did the tongue of your lineage emerge.

The man took in your answers, stepping closer into your personal space.

“Ah, I am impressed with a man serving his people. The ones of true worth, not those cowards letting our land be split apart by those Americans and communists.”

You could feel the spit and hatred mix together as he spoke. The tubes stationed within your throat felt constricting. The work and people the man was referring to sickened you. It disgusted you that you could so easily be mixed up with your torturers. Self-hatred settled itself on the six inked numbers on your left forearm.

“Your father, where was he stationed?”

The dark numbers and darker memories felt as if they would burn their way through your thin sleeves and lies. The gulp in your throat reverberated through your weak, trembling body.

“Auschwitz.”

Your tone was as grave as the site. As grave as the one your father deserved instead of the trick of a shower. Muscles around your eyes yearned to twitch. Your forearm felt as if it were being carved all over again, this time with shame instead of ink.

An amused laugh scratched its way past his lips. He cackled.

“A man of honor. Tell him and your brother to visit the bar just outside of town. He shall be met with the last men of purpose.”

The contents of the aisle spun around your vision as the man clasped your shoulder and walked past. There would be no need to tell Erik of the small bar. You knew he was already there and would be the last man to leave alive. So much for those great “men of honor.”

Maybe if you had even tried to shift your focus onto anything else, you wouldn’t have had a mountain of emotion embodying itself on your shoulders. But you had given up on that battle a long time ago. The last time you tried, you nearly split your brain physically in half.

In the meantime, you tried to walk out of the shop quietly, but you heard the splintering of the wooden door as your panic did what it does best—ruining its surroundings. You had no choice but to run to your small hotel room, as if any slower steps would leave you sinking into the earth. A new place on the wide planet, the same stares and distress.

Making it to your room, you should have known better than to collapse on your bed, as it did just that—collapse beneath the weight of your turmoil. You could feel the pricks of wood and springs, but you could focus on healing later. Right now, all your mind could replay were insistent flashbacks. That man from the store shape-shifted in your memory to endless faces of torturers. The countless men and women who looked at your small body, not as a child, but as a simple experiment.

Number 214783.

Screams ripped past your resistant cords as scratch after scratch cemented themselves temporarily into the permanent mark of your worth. Of your place.

It was several hours later, in the darkness of night, when your gravitational sense felt a resistance. A resistance that naturally came after one of your breakdowns. And as always, it was Erik who was trying to push against your invisible walls.

You made no move to open the door he was so insistent on bending to his will through mere strength. The room was pitch black, and you were covered in debris when Erik finally managed to get through the stiff gravity. He didn’t need to turn on the lights to know what he would see. Yet, the artificial lighting burned your retinas anyway.

“Whatever this is, it isn’t healthy. Why don’t you let me help you, Liebling?”

The nickname made you flinch—a movement visible as the debris surrounding you did a little shake in apprehension. You manipulated your gravity to ease yourself onto your feet and look around at yet another mess you caused. You could feel a bit of stabbing in your shoulders from wooden splinters, but those were quickly sorted out as you used your mutation to clean the chaos out of your body and off the floor. With too much ease from too much practice, you were able to get the bed back into a condition good enough for use. You really wished you’d gotten the journal before you had your breakdown.

“Y/N—”

“Is this what my life is?”

Erik Lensherr is not a man of many words, but that does not mean he gets speechless. He seldom does, but this was one of the rare moments. You stared out the window at the dim lighting dancing in the town center.

“Just following you around, doing all the real work while I sit here and destroy everything I touch?”

“That can be controlled. You losing your life cannot. We’ve talked about this before, and the answer is still no.” Erik’s firm voice only seemed to infuriate you further. Is this what the edge felt like?

“What life?! I am sick of being sick! I am getting hurt doing nothing; at least let me do so while doing something worthwhile.”

“You are doing something worthwhile by making sure Mama’s daughter lives! I am not disappointing her by letting you do something so reckless.”

This was meant to make you back down. Echoes of the same message from all the years flowed through your ears, but all you could hear was the ringing of anger and a migraine.

“You speak of making her proud? How about I avenge her?! She was my mother too!”

“I can do it enough for the both of us!”

You could feel the metal shake before you saw it happen around you. The keys, the lights, that accursed coin. The look of horror on your face snapped Erik out of his fit of anger, bringing him back to his senses—a trait of his you have always been envious of.

There was no more point in arguing. There didn’t feel like much point to anything lately. You laid down gently on the bed this time, not even bothering with the blanket, simply turning your back to the one person who claimed to love you.

“Liebling. Please, I am only worried about you.”

You left his confession to mingle with your silence as you closed your eyes. It would only be a matter of time before Shaw would have to face the Lensherr wrath. Not just Erik’s, but as you swore to yourself, yours too.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Turns out that moment came far sooner than expected. After yet another trip, you expected it to be one that blended into all the others. That was until you caught onto the tension surrounding your brother. You kept your eyes down on the small book you managed to snatch from the lobby downstairs. In the corner of your eye, you saw him in a fully black outfit, seemingly ready for a swim. He grabbed an overcoat, and before he left the room without saying a word about his whereabouts, he turned to you.

“Tonight, we make our parents proud.” He closed the door in your face.

You had only moments for action. He was right. You both would make your parents proud.

One look at your outfit and it was clear you did not plan for the assassination of a former Nazi official. With a sleek pair of brown slacks and a black turtleneck, you were at least grateful it was dark and warm enough for the cold night air.

Erik’s tall frame was easy enough to follow, though his constant scouring behind him and around made it a constant game of hide and (hopefully) no seeking. After the 20-minute chase, the ultimate destination presented itself. A lit-up yacht was lounging restfully upon the languid water. A deep breath, a jump, and Erik landed in the water. Not a moment was wasted as he made his way through the cold, dark liquid. If he was making his way, then you needed to.

All you wanted to do was scream as the temperature began seeping into your veins, but if you stood around in discomfort, it would overcome you. You didn’t have much experience swimming, but you used your mutation to glide without much hardship.

The megaboat presented itself far too quickly for your taste, as did Erik’s jump onto the surface. A man so focused was rare to see, but it was clear, even from your lowered position, that only one thing was playing in his brain. You swam to the very edge of the boat by the ladder, and that’s where you witnessed the knives being pulled by your brother. Even more so, the symbol engraved on it. Sebastian Shaw was going to die by his own legacy.

You had just jumped onto the boat when Erik’s frame entered the boat lighting and Shaw’s sight.

“Herr Doktor.” The man—the monster—had finally come face-to-face with his own monstrous creation. No fear seemed to present itself in his voice, though, as he only greeted Erik with an odd surprise of delight.

“Little Erik Lensherr.”

Even though the knife was on full display, his blonde companion was quick to broadcast his intentions. “He is here to kill you… and he isn’t alone.”

Well, that wasn’t planned. With no choice but to come out, you realized that you were grossly unprepared. You brought no weapon other than your mutation’s unpredictability. Though, as you came face-to-face with the man who had haunted every thought you’ve had since you were six, you were certain that a chaotic outburst wasn’t too far away. Hopefully, you could aim it this time. As surprised as Shaw was, it was nothing compared to Erik’s surprise. Maybe you should have just stayed at the hotel.

“Ah! Two makes a party! It’s a shame that, even grown up, you haven’t learned manners. Come on now, this is not the type of greeting. After all these years?”

Suddenly, piercing scratches engraved their way through your ear canals and into your brain. Sounds of drilling, shrieks, and electricity all began buzzing and mixing together as one face came into focus: Sebastian Shaw and his sick satisfaction at your torture, which he labeled “experiment.” You noticed Erik was on his knees yet broke free and took his chance by throwing the knife, guiding it through his own mutation. This break of focus by Emma Frost gave you liberation of your own mind and the opportunity to strike.

As Emma flung Erik over the boat’s edge, you took your time to fight back. In her diamond form, you swung into the air, hitting no target with your physical knuckles but using the gravity around her to make your impact, seeing a satisfying crack in her diamond coating.

“Well! Young Y/N fighting back!” Shaw's disgustingly gleeful voice rang through the air, distracting you just enough for Emma to nearly repeat the same move she used on your brother. But you were fast. Grabbing her arm, you used a few moves you managed to learn from Erik's very limited fighting lessons. Kicking her firmly in the stomach was enough to deceive you into believing you had a chance—until coast guard lights began lighting up your scene. Even with spotlights on you, you weren't going to let your shot at Shaw miss.

You fully lunged for the despicable man, until suddenly your feet were no longer touching the ground. Looking down, you saw the boat at least 40 feet below you, and as you turned your head upwards, you were met with a devilish face snarking back at you.

“He doesn't need two of you.”

You were no stranger to pain. Crushing, slicing, and even nerve-shocking pain were unfortunate realities of your mutation. But the feeling of stabbing was different—not a thousand little pricks, but a clean slice across your stomach. As was the sensation of it being ruptured and invaded by the dropping air, as the grip on the front of your black sweater let go. You could hear metal rampaging through the yacht, knowing Erik was doing what he was bred for: pain and destruction. While you were doing what you were bred for: failure embodied on a chopping block.

Your mutation worked instinctively to protect you from death upon impact, but the frigidness seeped into your wounds as crimson began coating the already dark waves. Even with the softened impact, your lungs still had the air knocked out of them, which you naturally gasped to regain, yet only took gulps of salty water flavored with copper blood.

Eyes closed, your connection to Erik was still too strong. The connection to all the forces was too strong. You could feel the submarine slipping away, along with your consciousness. If death already had you in its grasp, you might as well play your last laugh in life.

With every last cell marked with the pesky X-gene, you bent gravity to your will to lift the submarine. Slowly, the ocean's grip on the metal contraption began loosening as it was exposed to the night air. It was becoming excruciating as the salt penetrated your exposed flesh and water filled your lungs as you began laughing. You were happy you were in the water when the tears came. At least when Mama saw you, she wouldn't be able to tell the tear stains. If you died laughing, maybe Erik would somehow hear it through the ocean's enveloping waves. At last, you would be at peace. The darkness that overtook your eyes then overtook all your senses, leaving you an unconscious hope drifting at sea.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Charles Xavier has known humanity more intimately than potentially any human before. Yet that fateful night in 1962 was one that changed his perspective on it more than any of the prior decades of his telepathic existence.

All he was meant to do was invade the mind of one Sebastian Shaw, help with world peace, and get started with his teachings as an official professor. Though, nothing worthwhile in life is planned. When Charles realized that the water was not free of occupants, he rushed to save Erik from drowning himself. Until he realized that there was a soul drowning beneath the waves and one suffocating above in the night air.

“Oh my God,” a horrified Moira could only gasp as two figures levitated above in the moonlight before one simply poofed away while it seemed a girl dropped at a concerning speed. In an instant, Charles made a plan and prayed that it would work for the lives of the two strangers and his own conscience. The water was unwelcoming to Charles as it clung to him, trying to drag him down, but he was defiant as he latched onto the tall man in front of him.

“You can't! You'll drown! You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you and your sister are going to die. Please, Erik, calm your mind.”

The sensation was all uncomfortable and intrusive to Erik, but the one thing that made him refuse all his instincts to keep going was the mention of his beloved sister, you. The two men emerged from the icy domain of the water, and as all questions of who this strange voice in his mind was, Erik had only one thing on his mind:

“Where is she?!”

Very distantly, Charles could feel the last grasp of consciousness and knew time was of the utter essence.

“She is not far, but we have no time to lose. Can you pull her with your ability?”

Out of breath and in far too many layers of confusion and panic, Erik had no hesitation as he stuck his hand out, praying you had enough metal upon you for Erik to use. Thankfully, you decided to wear the very first necklace Erik had gifted to you after your escape for Hanukkah. It was a small necklace with a few charted stars. It was stolen, that much you could assume due to your financial standing, but you had kept it dear to your heart and chest for all these years.

Erik clung to the feeling of its magnetic pull and called it to him. His frozen blue eyes were manically wide as he kept out for any sign of you. While he worked on bringing you forward with his mutation, Charles dove back in. Back into the dark abyss of the water and your unconscious mind.

It was rare for the mind to be a silent place. Even when he was younger, accidentally invading someone's dreams was never a quiet sensation. Yet again, Charles had never been in the brain of an unconscious soul. He didn’t want the list of firsts to continue with the feeling of losing a life in his arms. Faster, deeper, he went at full speed, chasing that faint buzzing of your brain. As he got further below the surface, you got closer to it. The small and dainty necklace was unnaturally the levy to your entire being when Charles grabbed your faint body in his arms and swam to the surface with a hunger for air. With each stroke, he tried to enter your mind, begging you to wake.

Within a few moments, the two of you were back in the realm of oxygen as Erik met you. Charles quickly switched you into Erik’s arms as the three of you made it to the CIA boat. Erik had no reason to trust the man in front of him except for the fact that he saved your lives and that he may be like you. A mutant.

Even before your body was lain on the ground, Charles' urgent pleas for medical aid rang through the icy air. Erik's reddened hands were covered in crimson while his cheeks were covered in tears.

“Liebling, please. Please! Bitte!”

Erik hadn’t pleaded in 17 years. It was a foreign taste to his tongue, but he would make it go numb if it meant you no longer would be. You weren’t the one meant to die today. Erik was going to surprise you. Just one last ticket. This time, wherever you want to go. Forever. Start your life. It was supposed to be the beginning. Now why is it the end?

It was hard for Charles to focus when Erik's thoughts nearly drowned out the faint buzzing of your consciousness. All he wished to do was calm Erik's mind, but any second spent on him was one second closer to death for you. With a hand on his forehead and one brushing the hair away from your face, Charles clung onto that small sliver in your brain.

It was a fountain. Not too grand, but with the way the water sparkled and mirrored the surrounding gothic buildings, it made quite the spectacle. The weather was warm yet not hot, aided by the slight breeze. Floral scents wafted through the air, mixed in with the fountain and fresh bread from a bakery close by. Charles knew he was in a memory of yours with the way he felt the emotions you did: joy, contentment, and hopefulness. He knew it was a memory because above all those emotions, the one of aching presented itself painfully.

Fingers were intertwined with his. He finally moved his eyes away from the fountain and to the point of connection. Your hands didn’t clench to him. Instead, his did to you. Yours were grasping until the point your knuckles were white, with the hand of a woman. She looked youthful and beautiful, though there was a strain in her eyes. A sadness she entrapped, only visible in the reflection of the sparkling water fountain. You faced forward, but the look of wonder was infected with confusion at Charles’s additional presence. The fingers in his began to move, brushing with his. The woman to your right, who you assumed to be your mother, sighed lovingly and pulled your hand toward her as she tried to move. You were frozen.

“Es ist Zeit zu gehen, meine Liebe.”

Her voice was honey-sweet and a long-sought comfort. Charles noticed how your knees bent to move and your finger pointed to follow.

“Y/N, come back to us.”

Your fingers were now tracing the inside of his palms, as if trying to follow a map. Once again, you made no effort to move, but Charles did. He tugged your hand gently to gain your attention, though it didn’t work as your eyes still traced the glorious movements of the falling water in front of you.

“Y/N, wir müssen gehen, Erik wartet.”

Your name sounded so pretty with its proper pronunciation from the woman who had given it to you. The language was still foreign to Charles, but it was your mind, so you could make sense of it, and by association, so could he. A tug once more to your clasped hand.

“Erik is this way. He needs you.”

Your eyes flinched as Charles saw more life and confusion dance behind them. Turning your head, you saw your mother. Her patient smile, crinkled crow's feet, and jubilant hair you always loved to play with when doing dress-up with her. She was everything you longed for. A near step in her direction was too close for Charles.

He placed a hand upon your shoulder, and only then did he finally get the privilege of being witness to such a sight of beauty. You turned your head and knew instantly that this was not a product of your mind. It could never produce such a sight as Charles Xavier’s eyes. The longer the stare was held between you two, the more you felt it all. The gravity of the water, the birds slicing through the air, and a faint pain growing stronger in your stomach. You looked down at it and saw the red staining the milk-white dress you donned. Back to those deep orbs, who seemed to beg you to tug back. Slowly, you started to hear the pleas of a man echoing through the memory. It sounded eerily similar to Erik.

“Y/N.”

At the same time, your mother’s comforting and Charles’s intriguing voices called for you. Your hands were outstretched in front of the fountain as the sun began to set. You felt as the skin began to break apart as the cut deepened. Erik’s voice was as persistent as that never-ending flowing fountain. It was odd—not being able to feel another’s heartbeat, but Charles’s beating so rapidly. Your mother’s didn’t beat at all.

The young man knew just how tempted you were to let go of his grasp. The soliciting pathway out of the tribulation so filled with sorrow was hard to resist, more so for you. All it had been since this near-decade-old memory was a sea of despair. Charles swore to himself that if he was able to get you back, it would not follow that pattern. He was in your mind, but it seemed you were in his as well, as you looked at him as he took his vow. A silence between you two as more voices joined the now urgent shouts of Erik and the maelstrom of metal bending. Your fingers clutched your mother’s as she gave you a loving smile. It was returned with glossy eyes.

“Erik is waiting for me, mama.”

Your fingers finally fully intertwined with Charles’s as you let go of the woman you thought of every night. Once again, your eyes were caught in his orbit as everything became far sharper and more tangible. The sounds of the falling water droplets of the fountain were the last of the memory to dissipate when your eyes finally opened.

A ragged and painful breath was signal enough for Erik as he lifted his head from your shoulder in disbelief.

“Liebling!”

Charles stepped back to give you room but noticed your hands were intertwined in reality, just as they had been in your mind. You looked around and met at least half a dozen pairs of eyes staring down at you, and a pair of gloved hands trying to catarize your stomach in a fashion that made you queasy.

Erik grasped your face to look at it, but you pushed his hands away, along with the young man trying to heal you. If you could, you would have pushed everyone far enough away so you could do your own healing in seclusion, but you did not have such privilege. Eyes slipping closed, your hands rested on your stomach as you sped up your blood clotting process. The cut was diagonal, long, and deep, but with years of practice on much smaller cuts, you were able to manage a speedy procedure that fully stopped any external bleeding. Then came the painful part. You looked forward, past a certain brunette woman’s curious eyes, as you held back grunts of pain. Charles watched in amazement and intense worry as your skin was being pulled at an unusual pace toward the other ripped half, unnaturally closing securely. After one internal check of everything in order with your gift of gravity, you let out a shaky breath, dreading what was to come next.

“That was extraordinary.”

To your left, the man from your mind was there. He was real, yet still not out of your brain as you heard him. He gave you a charming and compassionate smile at your confusion.

“I am just like you. You are not alone.”

You were given no opportunity to respond, nevertheless comprehend what had all happened when Erik forcibly turned your sore body towards him.

“Was dachtest du, was du da macpymhst?!” The words didn’t need to be elaborated to any of the operatives, which many could already translate, to know they were not ones that you were eager to answer. Their expectations coming true as you lifted yourself up, with generous aid by the man you for some reason wanted to call Charles. Erik’s eyes were wide and frantic as he examined you and your shivering form. He had nothing to give you of warmth, but Charles did. Wordlessly, he offered you his coat, and yet another staring match; you took it with a shy smile. As if there was a conversation between the two of you that the rest were not privy to. He suggested that all of you go inside and shelter away from the cold, an offer you gladly took as it took you away from Erik. Though, of course, not for long.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t know where you were going, you simply walked the halls and back towards your brother. “I would simply like to rest, Erik, not now.” Looking past Erik’s burning stare, you addressed the young man who you just now noticed was as drenched as you and Erik. “Do you have anywhere we can rest? We will be gone by dawn, I swear.”

You had no idea how you would do that and where you would go from here, but that was an issue for tomorrow. If you could, you would have demanded to be taken to shore and out of the way of whoever these people were, but you were simply too exhausted. The young man stepped forward, his accent as smooth and refined as silk.

“Actually, we would prefer you to be here by sunlight. We would like you to stay, join us. You two are not the only ones. You are not alone.”

You finally looked at Erik, albeit with apprehension, and he did the same as he tried to understand what the still unintroduced man was saying. It seemed to hit him then (or did he peer into your minds? Was that his ability?).

“Ah, I am so sorry, I fear I have been too distracted to properly introduce myself. Charles Xavier.”

He first held out his hand for you, that smile ever-present. You took it cautiously but he returned with understanding. He turned to Erik, who, to your surprise, took it. An enthusiasm radiated in the air surrounding Charles.

“This is Agent Moira MacTaggert and fellow CIA agents—”

“The CIA?”

A panic rang through your voice. You were raised to trust no one, nevertheless the government. Any kind. You remembered the last time you got caught up. You were beginning to question whether or not Charles was a telepath or empath, as he knew exactly what to ease your worries, somewhat.

“The mutant division. We are after Shaw just as you are. Now you just don’t have to be on your own.”

Moira nodded from behind him in confirmation while Charles was focused on Erik, seemingly knowing he was the decision-maker between the two of you. Clearly, there was a conversation between the two in the sphere of the mind. Yet, whatever Charles had said must have been meticulously crafted as Erik did something against his very nature. He took Charles’s hand and agreed to join along with whatever this was. Then it was his turn to brush past you and deeper into the boat.

Considering you were all in a metal boat that he could easily crush like a tin can, it was no surprise a short man with glasses and a black suit followed along with the pretty Moira. That just left you and Charles.

“I apologize for the intrusion, though that was a beautiful memory. I can see why you thought of it.”

His words were soft and genuine. You knew mutants were oddities, but Charles seemed the oddest of them all. A rarity within rarities.

“You saved my life.” The words were blunt but didn’t offend Charles in the slightest.

“I would say you saved your own life. You made the choice.”

Charles took your processing time to take you in. Your hair was drenched and knotted yet somehow looked perfectly styled for your prettily reddened cheeks and nose and sparkling eyes. His bones were freezing but, to him, it was worth it. He would be willing to suffer the cold into the morning if he could ensure you would be there. Just a glimpse into your mind, and Charles wanted to indulge more. This was a sensation he had never felt before. His own cheeks grew red, not out of bitter wind but out of embracing heat as he thought of how Raven would tease him mercilessly if she saw him now.

Clearing his throat, he gestured for you to follow him.

“You can rest in this room tonight. I will tell Moira to bring you a change of clothes to ensure you don’t get a case of hypothermia. Rest as much as you need, truly.”

You looked inward at the small but functional room. You turned back and noticed the intense gaze of those crystal eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

If only you had a dollar for every time he had flashed that ever-present smirk at you.

“A ‘goodnight’ should suffice quite nicely.”

A slight smile began to grow on your lips. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

translations:

Liebling - darling

Bitte - Please

Es ist Zeit zu gehen, meine Liebe - It's time to go, my love

wir müssen gehen, Erik wartet- we have to go, Erik is waiting

Was dachtest du, was du da macpymhst?! - What did you think you were doing?!

[leviafin]

Big Fish Phantom Shifts

Phantom shifts are often kind of "in the way" for a lot of people. Wings clipping through or bumping into walls. Antlers or horns bonking things. Tails being annoying to deal with when faced with the back of a chair... You get it. I have... a definite problem with this in a very similar way, but it's different than any of the guys in my system with phantom shifts. Namely because I'm a very fucking long fish, made for open water.

My tail at its shortest? Easily 3x the height of my body, if not more. It replaces my legs when I get a phantom shift and I definitely rely on using my cane more in those moments because my legs feel a lot less "real" than they should, and I always feel at more risk of tripping or taking a step wrong. I can still feel my human legs, sure, but they kind of become an afterthought and less present in my mind. Kind of dissociated, less a part of me and more a part of... Something else.

I don't directly feel every inch of my phantom tail though either--more like... There's a sense of there should be a sensation there. I don't feel much aside from where it should connect and curve away from my human body--everything else is a lot less physical. The sense of "this should have feeling" means I don't get hurt or any real direct sensation from it interacting or not fitting in physical objects properly, but it's still a sense of mental discomfort. A sense of "I shouldn't be able to fit here", or a sense of "this should be kinda painful". If I'm in a space where I can't make a logical conclusion to where my tail could possibly fit in a comfortable way, it's like a nagging at the back of my brain telling me to move. Even though I can't physically feel where my tail is or that it would be uncomfortable, my brain knows I shouldn't be able to be in whatever position it is that I'm currently in, and urges me to get to somewhere more comfortable ASAP.

Even though it doesn't cause much physical distress, the tail being so long makes it incredibly annoying when dealing with shifts in the body and performing daily tasks. Walking around outside? Oops, that car just ran over my tail, that should probably hurt. That guy is standing in it, okay sure. It doesn't fit into the car I'm in and my brain can't figure out what to do with that information.

I try to do things in my house? The thing hardly fits in my room, let alone on my bed. Turning around corners can be annoying because my brain will scream about how I'm turning in a way that would hurt my tail. Sitting on a couch is the same issue as the bed. Oops, the dog just walked up and fell asleep where my tail should be, that's bound to have some sort of discomfort.

It's overall not the biggest issue, it's manageable, but it's a weird psychological thing that bugs me sometimes. I'm glad I don't have physical sensation in it because that would be impossible to manage, but having the mental push of "this isn't right, your tail can't fit here" still is... An Experience to have. Most other people in my system can feel a large portion of their phantom limbs, but it honestly makes sense as to why I can't feel mine in the same way--I just literally wouldn't fit in human society. In both of my forms (vast/hunt leviathan and Sebastian Solace), my body is made for open water, not houses, stores or cars.

[nateconnolly]

Me: Now that I’m about to move to a much smaller living situation, I should probably give away some of my books, so that my collection is smaller. That way, my books won’t take up too much space in my new studio apartment :)

Also me: When I get there, as a reward for doing the hard work of moving, I'll get myself a copy of Blood Meridian. And American Mother. And Desiderata and Nausea and Howard Zinn on War and Kindred and the novel version of The Shape of Water and Antigonick and Gravity And Grace and The Persian Bayan and The Collected Poems of Borges and The Empathy Exams and The Cancer Journals and Regarding the Pain of Others and Rap and Redemption on Death Row and Unraveling Oliver and Foundation of the Metaphysics of Morals and Tetrabiblos and Unsong and Werewolves in Their Youth and The Shahnameh and The Lotus Sutra and The Complete Plays of Euripides and Thirteen Ways of Looking and Pig by sam sax and The Underground Railroad and Under the Banner of Heaven and On the Motion of the Heart and Blood in Animals and A Question of Freedom and The Ferguson Report: An Erasure and Life and Times of Frederick Douglass and Allegory in Dante's Commedia and North and Howl and The Epic of Gilgamesh and Poison for Breakfast and The Inexplicable Logic of My Heart and Strange Adventures (2021) and Nightingale and When Einstein Walked with Godel and Everything and More and the Annals of Tacitus and Wuthering Heights and Last Night in Montreal and Jokes Told in Heaven About Babies and Exhalation and All My Sons and Limbo and Other Places I Have Lived and Plainwater and The Idiot and Anna Karenina and The Avesta and Braiding Sweetgrass and The Phenomenology of Spirit and The Blind in French Society and Short Stories of the Troubles and Cities of the Plain and Desert Solitaire and Mysterium Cosmographicum and Giovanni's Room and The Things They Carried and The Hidden Lives of Trees and Cosmos and The Kitáb-i-Aqdas and The Birth of Tragedy and Emily Wilson's translation of The Iliad and Go Tell It to the Mountain and Archeology of Knowledge and Ledger and The Beauty of the Husband and Everything in this Country Must and Paper Covers Rock and Horseradish: Bitter Truths That Are Hard to Swallow and Crush and A Bound Woman Is a Dangerous Thing and Emma and Richard II and Sherlock Holmes Was Wrong and Philosophical Fragments and Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind and Mrs. Dalloway and The Seal of the Unity of the Three and Anatomy of Melancholy and 2001: A Space Odyssey and Pensées and The Argonauts and Huckleberry Finn and Lose Your Mother and La Vita Nuova and Renaissance Rivals and American Originality and The Art of War and The Fire Next Time and The Lola Quartet and Ireland, Colonialism, and the Unfinished Revolution and The Haunting of Hajji Hotak and The Bloody Chamber and Howl's Moving Castle and The Poetic Edda. I'm sure I'll have space :)

[whxre-bxby]

Good luck with your big thing and I'll wait patiently for your next fics! :)

:) Thank you, I think it's passing so we good (I'm back)

"Insane Like Me"

Recom Fike x Human f. Reader

(1K special request from @supernovapsycho2321 )

Masterlist

Summary: Fike is known as the shortest recom who happens to be hot-headed. When he meets you he realises your attitude and personality match. After you overcome your first tense encounter, you realise you're both growing a soft spot for each other.

WARNINGS: Fluff, little bit of Angst, tension, cursing

Words Count: 2126 (short one-shot)

You often hear people say that to find yourself the perfect person, you need to complete each other. Like two completely different puzzle pieces that just happen to match and finish the whole puzzle.��

Well, let me tell you…

That's not always the case. 

Fike is one of the shorter recoms and with that height come certain personalities. To tease him and really piss him off, his friends compare him to a Chihuahua. Fike is not similar to a Chihuahua. More like a shrunken Pitbull. Not that those are very tall either. 

Pitbulls are strong and can be aggressive but most importantly, they have a soft and sweet side which is often overlooked by people. That is Fike. He is a hotheaded marine like many others but he isn't unsensible. 

Often, he likes his challenges to be big. Bigger than him. That can also backfire, but he manages to blame it on someone else if it does. 

Then, there is you. You work for the RDA, just like Fike, but in a different branch. And you get irritated very easily because everything seems to be made for giants. We're not talking about Avatars here, I mean people. 

You're just very short, but you never say that. You're personality and attitude completely match Fike's energy. It's either a love or a violent mess bound to happen. Whether the love blooms or the chaos erupts entirely depends on the situation you meet each other in. 

One wrong move and it's over for both of you. Things will be flying through the air and curse words will be erupting from both your throats. 

You don't care that he's a recom, quite frankly it would annoy you even more. 

The inevitable meeting isn't the best situation because you've both had a stressful day when you bump into each other in the hallway. However, something that shocks the universe takes place. 

Fike is walking through the seemingly endless hallways and his head is clouded with thoughts. Heavy footsteps, reminding others an Avatar was walking by, made employees move out of the way. The ones that didn't would get swished with Fike's tail which seemed to have a mind of its own when he was pissed off. 

Since most people moved out of the way, he wasn't counting on that one person not doing the same. As he approached your much smaller self, he didn't bother to stop. Neither did you. So you ended up knocking into each other, causing your paperwork to fall to the ground. 

Fike's attention was no longer on his thoughts but back in reality as he stared down at the human whom he had collided with. 

I freeze in my tracks after almost having the air knocked from my lungs. My eyes shoot up and I huff an annoyed sigh. Of course, it was a recom. They thought they could do anything they wanted. 

He stared down at me while I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. It caused him to raise an eyebrow. 

"What?" He asked, not seeming to understand my expression. 

"Are you going to apologise?" I ask, not looking away from him. 

Nothing could intimidate me after the awful day I've had. If he thinks he can just walk into me like I'm not there then he has one hell of a shitstorm coming his way. 

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise and disbelief at my words. 

"For what?" He scoffs, barely glancing down at my work. "Makin' you drop some shit?" 

I cannot believe him. 

"This 'shit' is the reason you're alive again, asshole. Watch your mouth and pick it up." I snap at him. 

He seems to be processing my words. 

"Nah, don't think so. You're closer to it shortstack." 

The pet name made me furious. 

"What? You think you're too good to pick up the mess you made?" 

"The mess I made? Think you walked into me." 

"I was walking on the right side of the hallway. You were in the middle!" I snarl, pointing at the line dividing the floor in half. 

He scoffs again, shaking his head. 

"That's not a rule"

"Yes, it is! Can you see the line? Yeah? It make sense to you yet?" 

My demeaning tone seems to annoy him for a few seconds because he flattens his ears back. 

"Listen lady, I don't know what you think you're doin', but-"

"No, you listen to me!" I shout, interrupting him. "I don't care if you're an Avatar! You need to respect others. Now pick up the goddamn papers you hit out of my hands and make it right!" I say, now pointing to the messy stack of papers at my feet. 

The people watching around us are beyond entertained at this point.

There are a few minutes of silence where the Avatar just stares at me. I refuse to stand down and frown up at him. 

Suddenly, to my surprise, he bends down and starts to neatly pile my papers into a stack before straightening up and handing them to me. 

My expression changes from the harsh glare I had before as I slowly take the papers back into my hands. 

"Happy?" He asks. 

"Yeah. Wasn't so hard was it?" I say, rolling my eyes and starting to walk away. 

I notice him turn around after me. 

"What's your name? We should do this again sometime!" He called after me. I stop and give him a doubting look before flipping him off and walking away. 

Fike lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head before turning away and continuing to walk in his direction.

Anyone who would have known Fike would have been in shock. Normally, situations like those would have quickly turned into fistfights. Even though you're a woman, he would have still been mean. But Fike left that situation feeling a lot better than he was before. Even if you weren't. 

After that incident, Fike couldn’t shake you from his mind. He’d never met anyone like you and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t stir something in him. Fike liked that you had an attitude and even despite you being a third of his size, he liked that you talked to him like you weren’t. 

The next time you saw each other was coincidentally at lunch. It was nothing but eye contact for a few seconds. Yet, that was enough to have both your hearts racing. He knew he liked you and why but you weren’t sure why you felt drawn to him. You didn’t even know each other's names.

When you left the cafeteria, Fike immediately left his table and friends behind to follow you. He needed to find out where you worked or spent most of your time so that he could meet you again. 

It wasn’t easy, sneaking around as a recom but he managed without you noticing. 

Since then, he would hurry through his training session and speed up his showers. Often he would skip meals or take them with him, just so that he can pretend to accidentally run into you again. 

That way you would often see him in the hallway, walking by whenever you finished your shift. The glances slowly turned into polite smiles which was unusual for both of you. 

At one point, Fike was becoming impatient so he waited for everyone to leave your office before he let himself in. 

My eyes tear themselves from the documents I was correcting when I hear the door open. To my surprise, I see the recombinant again. The same one I bumped into a few days back. Well actually, he walked into me. It wasn’t my fault, all his. 

I stop what I’m doing and watch him. He scans the room before his eyes meet mine. We stare at each other for a few seconds before he turns around to close the door behind him. 

“Hey.” he starts talking, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Did you lose something?” I ask, leaning against my desk and dropping my pen. 

A soft but raspy chuckle leaves him. It made me want to hear it again. 

“No. I didn’t catch your name last time.” he said. It seems as though my attitude made it easier for him to talk and remember why he’s here.

“It says it on the door.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

I roll my eyes. Of course he does. 

“Why? This department doesn’t concern you.” I add, not wanting to make it easy for him.

I hear him sigh. “Come on, just give me your name, doll.”

“That doesn’t work on me.” I say. Pet names never do. And the last time he used one it didn’t either. 

“Please?” he asks, wondering if perhaps being polite will do it. 

I give up with a soft huff. “It’s Y/N.”

The Avatar smiles. “Y/N. Nice name.” he says and I softly scoff, looking back down at my papers. 

I hear him take a few steps towards me and soon he is in front of my desk. He reaches for a chair and uncomfortably sits on it. It was made for humans, not Avatars. But it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

“Now you can ask for my name.” he says, looking back at me. 

“Why would I?” I say, but he can see through my bluff. 

“C’mon. I see the way you look at me. No need to hide it, shortie.” 

I frown at the pet name but his grin tells me he used it on purpose again, just to annoy me. 

“What’s your name then?” 

“Fike. Sean Fike.” 

“Hm.” I hum with a small nod. 

“Nice to meet you.” he teases, extending his hand to me. 

“Such a pleasure.” I answer sarcastically, briefly shaking his hand before trying to focus on my work again. 

“It will be, just wait and see.” Fike joked, grinning at me. He rested his elbow on my desk and was watching me shuffle through my paper. 

I scoff and roll my eyes at his comment. But oddly, his way with words reflects my behaviour. I don’t know whether I like it or whether it makes me uncomfortable. 

“Don’t you have places to be?” I ask, glancing up from my sheets. It was difficult to concentrate on work with him around. 

“Nah, I’m done for the day.” He smiles at me and I sigh. 

“Great.” The words leave my lips in a muffled whisper. I’d have to put up with him now for as long as he liked. 

“What are you doing after this?” he asks. I really won’t manage to get any work done…

“Grabbing something to eat and then going to my room.” 

I purposefully don’t look at him because I know he thrives in my attention. Making him seem less important amuses me. 

“Alone?” 

Now I can’t help but look at him. My eyebrow raises at his question. 

“Yes, alone.” 

“Would you like some company tonight?” he asks and I stare at him in disbelief. He seems to suddenly realise how one could misinterpret that question so he quickly tries to save it. 

“-not in that way! Unless that’s what you want then that’s great but-” 

“Fike.” I warn him, straightening my posture. 

“I meant for dinner.” he says, exhaling softly. “Can I take you out?”

My expression softens slightly and I’m no longer irritated by his presence. I can tell he’s being genuine.  

“In this shit hole?” I joke for the first time since he’s entered and it makes him smile again. 

“Yeah, sorry. Options are limited.” Fike answers. The RDA facility wasn’t very visually attractive. There was little colour and cement was everywhere. 

I sigh, hating how I’m growing a weakness for him. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be done in an hour.” I reply and his smile extends to his cheeks. 

“I don’t mind waitin’.” 

“But I actually have to work, we can’t be talking.” I say, trying to stay serious. 

He nods understandingly. “Yes ma’am. Can I help?” 

His words have my cheeks slowly heating up into a blush and I have to look down to hide it. Dammit, why was the name-calling suddenly pleasing to me?

“Yeah, uh... Can you get that down from there?” I ask and Fike reaches for a box on the high shelf. 

For the next hour, Fike manages to stay quiet. Only because of the date we have after, of course. Otherwise, he would be teasing and distracting you. It was exciting for both of you to have finally found someone so similar to yourselves. One could say it would get boring after a while but your personalities were far from boring. And now there were two of them which made things that much better.

Tag List: @ikranwings @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @number1gal @numarusworld @jatwow @ken-dala

[therottenkingsreckoning]

Right, chapter 8 is done! Something much shorter and lighter than the last one, as they'll hopefully mostly be from here to the end of the story. Enjoy!

~~Little Flame, Chapter 8~~

Over the next few weeks, word got around to their remaining friends of Frank's request. There were of course the murmured apologies for bounds overstepped, but he was quick to assure them that it really was alright and all was forgiven. He meant it too. Now that their initial bout of anger had long since passed, Frank felt almost embarassed to have gotten *so* worked up about it.

Oddly enough, one of the people most upset to have made them upset was apparently Howdy. He'd been quite enjoying the recent upswing of their friendship, and "would hate to know I'd done something to ruin it." To make up for that, all kinds of baby supplies were brought into the shop for Frank and Eddie to choose between, the caterpillar assuring them that any products they didn't buy would be shipped right back or kept waiting in storage.

"Wow, quite the selection you got here," Eddie said as the two walked in. A row of freshly-constructed cribs stood side by side in the widest space the shop had to offer. Behind them were neatly organized shelves of diapers, bottles, tins of formula & pastel onesies. And in the middle of it all stood Howdy himself, looking proud as could be.

"Yep! Spared no expense. Your kids deserve the best after all, and that's exactly what they'll get here at Howdy's Place." It was his usual sales-pitch talk, but underneath there was also a genuine sense of love. Being able to provide for his friends and their families was Howdy's greatest joy in life, and even though he'd yet to meet them he was clearly keen on showering the child with gifts.

Frank chuckled, and set about testing the strength of one of the cribs. "What do think of this one love? It seems pretty sturdy, and the slats aren't too far apart."

Eddie considered it for a moment, looking the thing over carefully. Then shook his head as he pressed down on to the mattress. "Too firm, little guy needs somethin' softer. Don't wanna mess their bones up!"

"Not too soft though," Frank countered. "Babies need head & back support as well."

"How about this one then?" Howdy offered, gesturing over to one tall and elegant in white-painted wood. "Extra storage underneath, soft foam top layer on the mattress with a sturdy base, and it even has built in slots for mobile & monitor!"

This time both of them disagreed. "Far too fancy," Frank said. "And the height's all wrong. Let's take a look at the others before we make any decisions."

And so it went, going one by one through the different beds in search of a perfect match for their home. Yet in each one, no matter how perfect they seemed at first, there was always some trouble too much to bear. This one's slats were too wide, that one wobbled on its uneven legs, this other would be so close to perfect except it looked so terribly ugly.

"AUGGHH!" Frank groaned in frustration, burying his face in their hands. "Why is this so difficult? It's the first choice, and we can't even decide on that." He sighed deeply and shook his head. "We're no good to be parents."

"Aww, don't say that darlin'," Eddie reassured. "We're doin' fine, just...hit a little snag is all."

Frank snorted and glared at their husband through his fingers. "We would've already been done by now if you'd just agreed with me at the start."

"Hey now, you saw yourself it wasn't right! I'm just doing what's best for 'em!"

"And I'm not??" Frank snapped.

"HEY!" Howdy shouted above the rising cloud of tension, his upper arms gently keeping the two at a distance. Thinking quickly, he pried the tall white crib's deluxe mattress free, then swapped it out with the one from the first frame, internally sighing with relief as it fit near perfectly onto the shorter bed.

Gesturing proudly now with all four hands, he declared, "There you go! That should solve all your problems, so there's no more need for fighting."

Frank and Eddie stared silently at the newly re-mattressed crib for a moment. Then a nervous chuckle rumbled up from the grey, spilling over into genuine laughter from both. "That's perfect!" Frank said. "Thank you." He then leaned against their mate's shoulder and sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Eddie. You don't deserve it when you're just trying to be a good dad."

Putting an arm around them, Eddie snuggled back. "It's ok, I know ya didn't mean it. This is stressful business, and we're all feelin' a lot right now. It's a lucky thing Howdy's here to help us out though, right?"

"Of course!" Howdy smiled warmly. "It's what I'm here for. And I really do mean it- I want the best for all of you."

They ended up buying that first bed in its refurbished state, along with several boxes worth of the other supplies, a few toys and some clothes as well. Howdy helped them carry it all back to their house, and as he watched the two chat happily over their armfuls of bags, he couldn't but smile. Yes, this was how it should be. All his friends were were safe and happy. Their little town was so full of warmth and life and love, so ready to welcome its newest resident. Yeah, he thought with a soft chuckle. Things really are gonna turn out alright.

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

Happy Holidays to @idlenight, who was kind enough to let me steal his Sidestep, River Becker, for an absolutely unhinged fic for a gift exchange. I had a lot of fun playing with your delightful bastard, Idle. Sorry I was mean to him!

Undertow

Warnings for graphic violence, grief, betrayal, and questions of identity.

Read on Ao3 or

Red waves spill out of the fractured face plate, bursting from the technicolor star that crackles out wild like lightning across the shards of screen. Julia's resolve falters, her fist slowing as she draws it back. She swallows hard as glass pieces fall away without her knuckles to hold them in place. More strands of red escape the bounds of the helmet, pouring out unruly as the sea in a storm.

She used to tug on those waves, watching them bounce back into place. They're softer, silkier than her own hair. "No," she scoffed, shoving his shoulder gently. He rocked away with the motion, but always came back to her, like a moon in orbit. "You're not gonna convince me that's your natural color."

River rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide his smirk. "Yeah, well, guess you'll have to keep calling me a liar 'cause I'm not going to show you the carpet to prove you wrong."

"Mierda, Rio, ew!" The mock offense had been no match for her mirth, melting beneath her inability to stop laughing.

When she pressed her palm to his face, pushing him away fully, he let her. His laugh mingled with hers, green eyes alight with the joy she'd thought would always be there.

The green eye that peers out between shattered plasteel and glass isn't laughing now. Something else swirls in its depths as his brow pulls down towards his nose. "Don't fucking stop now, Charge." The voice modulator only partially cloaks his voice, the real River escaping the widening seams in Maelstrom.

He slams his head forward, forehead cracking against hers, and Julia swears as she reels back off and away from him. He scrambles even further in her distraction. Getting to his feet is not a graceful thing. It's a desperate scrabbling across ruined concrete to put space between them. More bits of his helmet crumble from his face, revealing scarred pale skin and a spattering of freckles.

"Oh, my god, you didn't tell me you have freckles!" The sentence broke on the giggle that Julia couldn't hold back.

River paused in pulling the Sidestep mask up, his nose anchoring the shifting nanoweave. He crossed his arms over his chest, lips pressing into something close to a pout. "I can pull it back down if you're just going to make fun of me, Marshal." The words were sharp, but his tone cracked on the snark. He knew she wouldn't call his bluff.

"No,no," she'd protested, because curiosity always kicked her self discipline into gear. "Come on. Let's see it."

She wishes she could roll the mask back down now, piece the helmet back into place, go back to pretending anyone could be Maelstrom. She doesn't want to see his familiar face being revealed piecemeal as his most recent alter ego falls away. It hurts more with every shard that shatters on the concrete. The pieces scatter further as he goes on the offensive, fragments falling like rain, and he rushes forward once more.

Julia only has a second to collect herself before he's on her, trading blows as fast as a viper. He didn't used to be this fast. A function of the armor? Or maybe they just never sparred with the intent to hurt each other. Maybe he'd always been holding back. Or maybe they'd just made this impostor better than River.

"Keeping up okay, old lady?" River didn't even strain to speak as he dodged and wove between her blows. Despite his height, he was always a slippery opponent. "You haven't landed a single hit."

"So impatient." She'd laughed back then, though it had sounded more like a wheeze. "Ever heard of sounding someone out?"

"Ever heard of being too slow?" He shot back. "Too-

-slow, old lady." Cold metal knuckles crash into Julia's gut, knocking the wind out of her with a pained gasp. She doubles over with the blow and Maelstrom's other hand grabs her hair, dragging her back upright. Her eyes meet his, zeroing in one the new feature since she last saw him: an eye prosthesis in black and silver, its iris the same blue and purple starburst as Maelstrom's helm.

The sight makes her grit her teeth. Not even trying to hide now. And why should he? The jig is up. She knows he's an impostor - just a lookalike of the real River. It still stings like antiseptic on a fresh wound. River had been her best friend, her confidante, her other half in ways she struggles to explain even to herself. Was it not enough that he had died and she had mourned? Bled out for years while his name was carved in stone over an empty plot? And then this River - this terrible, blood-stained facsimile of her friend - had dug his claws into that old wound and ripped it open anew.

Julia clenches her jaw, eyes tracking each shift in the jacket that covers the grey and white armor, and dodges back away from the oncoming blow. He may be faster than her now, but he doesn't fight all that different than the real River used to. As she weaves between his fists, letting herself slip into old reflexes she hasn't used in years, River's lips curl up in a snarl. The expression looks alien on his face.

There was always a wry edge to his smile. He threw them around so carelessly. Always laughing at something, always preceding a sharp joke and scathing comment. They could verbally spar for hours, playing off each other with a subtle escalation with each return.

River isn't talking so much now. He must have finally realized she's not fucking around this time. What gave it away, she wonders. Was it the fact that he's only landing glancing blows now or that she flexed her fingers in the array almost as familiar as her own heartbeat? The humming of the generator echoes up her spine in answer. A more deadly call and response for him to rebuff. His armor may be insulated, but it's a broken shell now.

No, he hadn't seen her boot up her mods. That much is clear as her fist flies just past his face and his eyes widen at the sight of electricity crackling so close to his nose. He must be able to taste it. The fight goes from enraged to frantic, the stakes heightened, and Julia gives him no quarter. Her nerves scream every time she makes contact with the armor. It's clearly not reinforced, but it still jolts her nerves down to the very bone.

He falls for her feint and Julia lunges forward, dodging under his arm. It doesn't take a lot of force to the back of the knee to bring a man to the ground and River is no exception. Even in the armor, the joints buckle against the weight from Julia's reinforced skeleton. River turns, eyes wide as he tries to glance over his shoulder.

He tossed a smile over his shoulder, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he turned to face her. "It's harder than it looks, isn't it?"

Julia picked herself up off the ground and rolled her shoulders. "I don't know that I can pull it off. I'm not as scrawny as you."

She smirked to soften the blow a touch, but she could still see the mild offense as he scoffed, "Scrawny! It's called 'lean'." He bounced on his feet like a jack rabbit. "Or spry."

"Alright, then," she mimicked his bounce, bringing up her fists. "Let's try it again, then."

He rushed her, ducking beneath her swing, leaving himself purposefully open to the blow to the back of the knees. She had this now. If River could pull it off, so could Julia. Shift weight, turn, shift momentum, and-

Julia's heel makes contact with River's jaw and she can feel the rattle of his teeth as it snaps shut. He collapses forward onto his hands, spitting blood and what might well be a tooth onto the pavement. He wouldn't hesitate and neither does she as she drives her boot into his armored ribs. River gasps as he rolls onto his back and, for a moment, he lies there, grimacing with bloodstained lips. She's on him in the next breath, pinning one arm beneath her knee, the other above his head. She clenches her jaw so hard that her teeth ache as she hits him, once, twice, again, and again. His expression twists with panic and pain and something altogether unfamiliar to her. With the front of the helmet near fully gone, Julia's stomach twists at hurting this man with her best friend's face.

River, his face pinched even beneath the mask as he breathed shallow through his teeth. Julia pressed her hands hard against his side, but it didn't stop the blood seeping between her fingers. "You're okay. You're gonna be okay. I've got you." She didn't tell him she'd always have him. She didn't need to. He knew. She'd always have his back.

Until she didn't anymore. Her fist shakes where it's drawn back above her head, her breath as ragged as her heart. When had she started crying? Was it when River's nose had started gushing blood or when his scarred cheek had turned purple beneath her knuckles?

He looks up at her with an almost blank expression. No, not blank. Is it remorse? With great effort, his lips curl up in a smile, no room for mirth with all the jagged and broken edges. "Go on," he growls, though she feels none of the previous bite he'd spoken with. "If it's gotta be someone, it's better if it's you."

Julia chokes on a retort, her tongue leaden in her mouth. She clenches her fist hard enough to draw her own blood. Beneath her, Maelstrom, not-River, River closes his eyes. It only makes him look closer to dead. A scream tears itself from her throat as she drives her fist down once more.

[inhonoredglory]

Hi Glory. I am so sorry for anyone receiving the Gaiman news, who appreciated him as someone to deeply admire and look up to. However, I have got to say that I'm not surprised... in fact, I was waiting for something like this to happen... and it's because it happened on this site to John Mulaney and others before him. Even right now, once popular individual blogs are getting nuked left and right, falling from the heights of Tumblr stardom burning like canopies because they are suddenly being forced to take a position on Gaza... which almost no one is properly equipped to provide in its complexity, I believe... Now, Neil Gaiman was idolized so much here, I was expecting his sudden ungraceful exit, it was bound to happen. It serves as a reminder that maaan, we do not know who celebrities are as people any better than we know who is behind the url of one of our mutuals. They are people, not idols.

Who's next? Alex Hirsch? Taylor Swift?

As unfortunate as this is, I want to encourage you that Neil Gaiman being human means that all his positive contributions to society still stand. We are never on just one side of things. We are flawed, fallible, disgusting, scared, evil and wrong. We are also capable of inspiring thousands. Luckily, there is nuance to us.

Let's hear and compensate the victims, keep the good, allow Gaiman to come back at any time he's ready to, and move on.

This message is about a month old, but I just want to say thanks for thinking of me and sending it my way. 🖤 When the Neil news broke I was in grief for a long, long time. But we take the good in the worlds he made and move on. And I know that my love for the fandom community is bigger than the person behind the franchise. Anyway, thank you for popping in my inbox with kindness.

[bonaxie]

Come what may (Comfy-vember Day 3)

Honestly, Obi-Wan should have expected it. It hadn't even been 3 years since Anakin had become his Padawan, and yet the boy had ended up in Halls of Healing after injuring himself more times than was reasonable.

When Obi-Wan entered in his room in the Halls of Healing, Anakin was waiting for him, sitting sulkily on his bed with both arms in casts. On the right, the cast stretched from the middle of the hand to just above the elbow. And on the left, it stopped below the elbow but still immobilized the wrist.

"What have you done now, my young Padawan?" Obi-Wan asked, masking his amused smile with a desperate sigh.

"It wasn't my fault!" The 11-year-old immediately defended himself.

"I never said it was." Obi-Wan calmed him as he came to sit beside his bed. "I'd just like to know what happened."

"Yeah, so you can punish me." Anakin muttered.

The boy said this sulkily, but Obi-Wan knew it was genuine fear on his Padawan's part.

"I won't punish you if you haven't done anything wrong, Anakin. And if you have done something, you'll simply have more hours of meditation to reflect on your actions. I'm not going to lock you up, I'm not going to deprive you of food or water, and I'm not going to hit you."

Saying these words always gripped Obi-Wan's heart, but unfortunately he knew that growing up as a slave left its mark. And that Anakin needed these reassurances regularly.

The boy didn't respond immediately, fidgeting a little and fiddling with a thread protruding from the blanket, before wincing in pain when he tried to move his left wrist too much. Obi-Wan said nothing, giving him time to organize his thoughts.

"You're not going to be mad?" He asked in a small voice.

"No." Obi-Wan promised.

Anakin finally sighed before launching into his story. "With another Padawan, we were out of the Temple and a speeder passed too close to us so I pushed them out of the way but fell instead. And here we are." Anakin nodded, pointing to his plastered arms.

"There you are." Obi-Wan repeated. "You simply fell from your height and fractured both your arms?" He asked, doubtful.

So, yes, a bad fall was bound to happen, but Obi-Wan was getting to know Anakin pretty well, and he knew it would take more than a fall from his height to break both his arms.

Anakin mumbled something Obi-Wan didn't understand. "Hm? I didn't hear that, Padawan."

"I fell two stories." Anakin repeated barely louder. "I tried to catch myself with the Force like you taught me, but I didn't quite make it."

Obi-Wan felt his stomach loop. Anakin had fallen 2 stories?!

"Okay. And other than your arms, did you hurt yourself anywhere else?"

Anakin shook his head. "I had my arms out front." He justified himself.

Obi-Wan nodded and took a moment to deal with the flash of fear that had passed through him when he'd learned that Anakin had fallen 2 floors. Then more questions came to him. "Why were you outside the Temple when you should have been in mechanics class?"

"A- My friend promised to take me to the market. Besides, I already know how to do everything we do in mechanics class. I can build a droid mouse with my eyes closed!"

"I know you're very good at mechanics, but that doesn't give you the right not to go to class. But since it's your first time, I won't say anything more. I would, however, like to know how you managed to get out of the Temple without getting caught."

"They know lots of hidden passages. And the location of the Guards."

"And may I know the identity of your fellow excursionist?"

"I don't want to get them in trouble." Anakin muttered.

"No one's going to get in trouble Anakin. I just want to make sure they’re okay. From what you've told me, they could have been hurt too, and I want to make sure their Master knows they might be hurt."

"They’re not hurt, I asked them before they called for backup."

"Backup?" Obi-Wan repeated. "How did you get back to the Temple? Didn't you call the Guards?"

"No." Anakin replied in a small voice, fidgeting on the spot.

"Then who did you call and how did you get in here?" Obi-Wan insisted.

Anakin didn't answer immediately, and just as he opened his mouth to reply, the door flew open.

"Ani! I hope you’re okay, I've already-" The new person stopped abruptly as he noticed that the Padawan wasn't alone in the room. "Oh hey, Obi, funny seeing you here. What are you doing here?"

"Quinlan." Obi-Wan simply said in a calm voice, staring at his best friend. "May I ask what you are doing here?"

"Oh, well I- I heard Anakin was hurt so I- And then as I was- " The Kiffar stammered.

Obi-Wan realized at that moment what had probably happened. But he didn't want to say it directly, so he chose to have a little fun. "I hope Aayla wasn't hurt in the accident." He said casually.

"Oh, she grated her hand a little but nothing serious, tomorrow there'll be nothing left."

"And how did she get hurt?"

Quinlan paused at this point, realizing what had just happened. "Oops, you weren't supposed to know about that," the Kiffar said. “I think I'm going to run very far very fast." He added, turning around.

But before he could reach the door, Obi-Wan grabbed his ear, taking care to use one side of his tunic to keep from touching his friend's bare skin, preventing him from moving.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch, that hurts Obi."

"That's your punishment for showing Shadow's secret passages to your Padawan, who then shows them to my Padawan." Said the younger Jedi. "And I'll let you off the hook this time only because you brought them back to the Temple after Anakin's fall. But next time you know our Padawans are going to try to sneak out of the Temple, follow them and stop them from getting hurt. I don't want to find my Padawan with both arms in cast every week." Obi-Wan said, never letting go of Quinlan's ear, who was bent double by the force his friend was exerting on his ear.

"Okay, okay, I won't do it again or I'll go with them. But go easy on the ear Obi, I need it quite a bit, please. I'm sorry, I won't do it again, sorry?"

Obi-Wan sighed, but eventually released his friend, who straightened, massaging his ear. "Get out, I don't want to see you. And say hello to Aayla for me."

"I promise! Kisses Ani!" Quinlan exclaimed as he hastily left the room.

As for Anakin, he had remained silent throughout the discussion between the two Jedi Masters, amused as always by their banter. But when his Master's gaze returned to him, Anakin immediately lost his little smile.

Obi-Wan said nothing for a moment before sighing. "I'm not going to say anything more about it. If Quinlan was involved, you're not responsible.”

"Aayla won't have any problems?"

"Not from me. If Quinlan wants to discuss with her what happened today, he can, but I won't interfere."

"And... I'm not going to get in trouble for getting out of the Temple?"

"I think these casts will teach you a lesson. Do you know how long you have to keep them on?"

"Master Che said a week."

"I see. Well in that case let's go home, you'll be better off there than here."

"I can?"

"Unless you want to spend the next week stuck in the Halls of Healing." Obi-Wan joked.

"No!" Anakin exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, wincing and wobbling as the pain in his arms reasserted itself.

Luckily, Obi-Wan had somewhat expected this and was able to stabilize him quickly by putting an arm around his shoulders. "Take it easy, Padawan. Even if your wounds aren't too bad, they're still painful."

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan guided Anakin to the exit of the Temple's Halls of Healing and then to their apartment, always keeping one hand behind his back. And even though Anakin tried to act tough and grit his teeth, Obi-Wan could see that it hurt him to walk.

So at one point, about halfway down the path, Obi-Wan stopped and, under Anakin's questioning eye, removed his cloak before bending down in front of Anakin, offering him his back.

"Obi?" Anakin asked, confused.

"Hop in, I can see walking's hurting you, and you're exhausted." Obi-Wan said simply, looking at his Padawan over his shoulder.

Anakin hesitated for a moment and then, without making a sound, approached Obi-Wan's back and put his arms around Obi-Wan's neck, moving gently so as not to hurt himself even more. When he was settled, Obi-Wan put his arms under his Padawan's knees, securing him on his back, and gently stood up. He then used the Force to float his cloak over Anakin's back, enveloping them both in the warmth of the garment.

Once settled, Obi-Wan set off again.

And less than 2 minutes later, Anakin was fast asleep, his face pressed against Obi-Wan's shoulder, and he could feel his Padawan's steady, warm breath on his neck with every breath.

Obi-Wan quickly arrived at their apartment and, giving the late hour, decided to put Anakin straight to bed. They would have time to talk more the next day, if necessary. The young Knight would have liked Anakin to eat something before going to bed, as the boy was still underweight, but he preferred to let him sleep.

Obi-Wan then gently placed Anakin in his bed, before removing his boots and belt to make him more comfortable for sleeping. Once this was done, Obi-Wan raised his Padawan's plastered arms with pillows before pulling the covers up to his protégé's chin. Anakin didn't move a muscle during the whole maneuver.

Obi-Wan smiled tenderly and tucked back a wild lock of hair that had fallen into Anakin's eyes, freeing his Padawan braid from behind his shoulder. Unable to resist, Obi-Wan leaned over and placed a light kiss on his forehead before straightening up and leaving the room, leaving the door ajar so he could hear his Padawan if he needed him.

Obi-Wan then moved into the living room and worked a little before eating something quickly and going to bed, not forgetting to check on Anakin. All was well, and the young boy was fast asleep.

The young Knight slept with one eye open that night, waking at the slightest sound, ready to get up if his Padawan needed him in any way. Fortunately, the night passed without incident for Anakin, and Obi-Wan rose at around 6 a.m., as he did every day.

As he did every day, he began his day with a meditation session and then tackled the day's chores, such as watering the plants that adorned the apartment, sorting dirty clothes to send to the cleaners, or doing a bit of light housework.

Normally, he woke Anakin around 7 a.m. so that he could go to class at 8 a.m., but he decided to give his Padawan a day or two's rest before he had to return to class. So he sent messages to his teachers, who replied that they had already been notified by the Halls of Healing and that Anakin wasn't expected back in class until the following week, 5 days from now.

Obi-Wan smiled and let Anakin sleep as much as he wanted, keeping himself busy by reading while waiting for him to wake up.

Then finally, around 8:30... " Obi-Wan?" came a sleepy voice from the bedroom.

Obi-Wan immediately put down his datapad and stood up, heading for Anakin's room. He gently opened the door and saw that his Padawan was indeed awake, but barely. His eyes were still half closed and his hair was in all directions.

"Good morning Padawan, did you sleep well?" Obi-Wan asked as he came to sit on Anakin's bed, putting a lock of his hair back into place.

"Hmm. What time is it?" Anakin inquired, squirming a little in his bed.

"8h30. But don't worry, I've notified your teachers and you're not going to class today, or until next week."

Anakin, who had started to panic at his Master's reply, quickly relaxed. He didn't like skipping classes, but he really didn't feel good enough to go to one at the moment.

"Would you like to get up?" Obi-Wan offered.

Anakin nodded and straightened up in bed with a little help from Obi-Wan, who then handed him a glass of water with a straw so he could drink without risking dropping the glass.

"Do you want to go to the ‘fresher before you eat?"

Anakin nodded again.

"Okay. And what do you want to eat?"

Anakin didn't reply verbally to this, but lowered his eyes a little, twisting his fingers as best he could. Obi-Wan quickly understood and smiled, "I'll do that. You call me if you need me." The Jedi said, before leaving the boy's room and heading for their small kitchen.

He immediately took out all the ingredients needed to prepare a special breakfast: scrambled eggs with sugar, sprinkled with a little chocolate, and a slice of toast with butter. These particular eggs were Anakin's favorite breakfast because they were the first thing Obi-Wan had cooked for him when he arrived at the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan had originally intended to make normal scrambled eggs, but that morning when he prepared Anakin's breakfast, he hadn't slept for 3 days and was still extremely troubled by his Master's death, and had confused salt and sugar, sweetening the beaten eggs before putting them in the frying pan. When he realized this, he had almost burst into tears again, but Anakin had reassured him by saying that he didn't know scrambled eggs anyway, so it could only be good. This admission that, at 9 years old, Anakin didn't know scrambled eggs almost made Obi-Wan cry again, but he restrained himself, letting the young boy try the eggs, without much conviction. But to his surprise, Anakin had loved it, and it was now his favorite breakfast, the one he asked for when things weren't going so well.

Since then, Anakin had tried normal salted scrambled eggs, but he always preferred sweet eggs, to the surprise of many. But Obi-Wan never shied away from making his Padawan sweet eggs, even adding chocolate and the occasional piece of fruit on top.

Obi-Wan was about to put the eggs in the frying pan when Anakin called to him from the ‘fresher. Deciding that the eggs could wait, Obi-Wan cut the fire under the frying pan and went to join his Padawan, whom he found in front of the sink.

His tunics and leggings were a little askew but nothing dramatic.

"Do you need help, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, approaching him.

"Can you help me wash my hands? I don't want to get the casts wet, but I don't know how."

True, it was something Obi-Wan hadn't thought of until now. But he quickly came up with a solution. "I'll use a wet washcloth with soap to wash your fingers without touching the cast and I'll rinse by doing the same thing. And then you can dry your hands normally, does that sound good?"

Anakin nodded, so Obi-Wan grabbed a washcloth and gently washed his Padawan's hands, taking care not to wet the casts.

"Come on, let's eat. The eggs are ready to be cooked."

Anakin nodded and his stomach rumbled, making the boy blush. Obi-Wan just laughed and let Anakin settle at the table, helping him to pull the chair closer so he wouldn't hurt his arms, before heading for the kitchen.

A short silence settled over the apartment, but Obi-Wan didn't let it last too long. "By the way, did you make it all the way to the market yesterday with Aayla or not?"

"Oh yes! It was great, nothing like the Tatooine market! There were loads of people, and so many things to buy. And lots of things to eat and drink too, I've never seen so many different waters!" The young boy exclaimed. "But we didn't have any money, so we couldn't buy anything."

Obi-Wan smiled and put the eggs on two separate plates, bringing them to the table before bringing out two glasses and a bottle of orange juice, not forgetting to take a straw for Anakin.

"Well if you want, we can go back this afternoon or tomorrow, since you don't have any classes and we can't really train."

"Really?" Anakin asked, his eyes wide and hopeful.

"Sure. This time we'll take a speeder and you'll stay with me, but I don't see why we can't go."

"So cool, thanks Obi!" Anakin exclaimed happily as he went to grab his fork to start eating.

However, with his cast, he couldn't close his fingers enough to catch his fork, and it fell back onto the table. Anakin frowned and tried again, with no more success than the first time.

Seeing his frustration, Obi-Wan put down his own fork. "Problem, Padawan?" he asked.

"My fork won't stay in my hand." Anakin muttered, trying a third time. But the fork wouldn't hold, and Anakin gave up, frustrated.

"How about if I help you?" Obi-Wan offered.

"How?" Anakin asked, sulking.

"Well, after we've eaten, we can go to the kitchens to see if they've got any big-handled cutlery to lend us so it's more convenient for you, but in the meantime I can feed you."

"You're not going to spoon-feed me! I'm 11, I'm not a baby!" Anakin protested.

"I know you're not a baby, but there's no shame in accepting help when you need it, Anakin. I'm not going to think any less of you, and I'm not going to make fun of you, I promise. I just want to help you eat." Obi-Wan reassured.

Anakin hesitated a moment longer, but finally nodded slowly, seeming hesitant all the same. Obi-Wan thanked him with a smile and, having pulled his chair closer, grabbed Anakin's fork and filled it, bringing it to his Padawan's mouth.

Breakfast went well, and when they had finished, Obi-Wan cleaned up and left the dishes in the sink, deciding to do them later. He then washed Anakin's hands and face, and helped him change, before they both left their apartment, first to go to the kitchens to find suitable cutlery for Anakin, and then Obi-Wan planned to take his Padawan to Dex's, and go to the market in the afternoon.

Walking along the Temple corridors, one hand on Anakin's back as he walked beside him with both arms in cast, Obi-Wan wondered if Anakin would hurt himself like this again in the future. He quickly decided that it was likely, but that it wasn't a big deal. Whatever state his Padawan ended up in, Obi-Wan would be there to help him, so all was well.

Come what may, they'll be together.

@comfy-vember

[gotta-pet-em-all]

(@wingsofachampion) What are human mobility aids like? -Tropius

HI HI HI OKAY SO THIS IS ACTUALLY AN INTEREST OF MINE!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay okay i'm gonna be normal about this i am going to be soooo normal yeah no that's a lie i love this so much

so!!! first off we have canes. canes my absolute fucking beloved! you got wooden ones and metal ones, plus a smattering of funky materials, but it's mostly the first two. There are different types of handle, depending on what you use it for. Some people like decorative handles that are carved in the shape of pokemon! Here, I'll grab some fancy ones so you can see.

My first cane was a black aluminum folding cane, with a functional wooden grip somewhere in the derby range. It was adjustable for different heights, which is helpful because if you use mobility aids wrong, they can actually hurt you! It's designed specifically to alleviate the strain from certain areas of the body, and if it's not ergonomically sound, it will put unexpected strain on you.

If your cane is too short, it forces you to lean over, which throws your entire body alignment out of wack. If it's too tall, your elbow is forced to take on the extra strain, which is bad for it. Always get your cane properly fitted! You may need to adjust it if you're wearing shoes with any kind of heel.

Here's an example! This cane has a derby handle, is probably metal, and comes with a carrying case. I love the flowers on it! It's sort of a disabled community thing that a lot of us like to customize our mobility aids, because they're a part of us. When I dream, my cane is with me. Because I would feel naked without it, you know? It's part of me.

Another reason to customize your aids is to emphasize that your disability is permanent. You don't waste holographic stickers on something that you'll only be using for six months as you recover from an injury; it's a way of saying "I'm here and my condition is here to stay, and I'm making the most out of life." And I think that's extremely c-punk.

....i am realizing i'm running out of steam here. oops. i really really just love canes, but i promise there are other mobility aids!

There are forearm crutches! they require both hands, but they give more support than a cane, and on both sides! they're also arguably better than underarm crutches in the long term, but the trade off is that they take longer to use.

Sometimes, leg amputees will use these instead of a prosthetic! Prosthetics are cool and all, but they can chafe or put pressure on the stump, and sometimes they're just not worth it. A lot of amputees actually choose not to use a prosthetic because they manage just fine with the limbs they have, and that's fine!

Next category up is walkers and rollators, which admittedly I'm not as knowledgeable about? But I've seen people attach really cute quilted bags to theirs, and they're very good for long periods indoors.

Next up is wheelchairs-- oh gosh there is so much variation in wheelchairs. At the bottom tier is hospital wheelchairs, which are designed to be pushed by someone else, and then you've got self propelled chairs where the user pushes the wheels using their hands to move forward. and then there's electric wheelchairs, which are for people who don't have the physical strength/coordination/whatever to push themselves manually, and so they just steer!

There's a specific brand of sports made for people in wheelchairs! Like power soccer, or wheelchair basketball! Disabled people can be athletes, or just enjoy the fun of playing a sport for self improvement. There's even a guy I watch on Mewtube who does some pretty sick skateboarding tricks on his chair!

(Side note: I'm not usually a huge stickler for language? Like, I know people who have reclaimed the word cripple, and that's fine. I know people who say differently abled like it's a curse. However! Please note that "wheelchair user" is considered vastly preferable to "wheelchair bound." It's a mobility aid! it's freedom! It can be cool as hell!)

Anyways. Don't take my word as gospel, this is nowhere near comprehensive, but there you have it! my big old ramble on mobility aids! ehehehehehheh i love them so much, such a huge fan of technology invented to make people's lives easier. anyways ough i'm stimming so hard right now but also i am fresh out of spoons from this rant so gnight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!