#rogue & magento

[eleanordarkholme]

I have more thoughts that I must share. Thank you X-men 97 for not just throwing Madelyne away now that she has been revealed as a clone. She spent at least a year with the X-men. Rogue gives her a big ole hug. Gambit and Magneto greet her warmly. Scott clearly has lingering feelings for her. (And he makes it a point that he and Jean do not have any children because Maddy is Nate's mother).

Maddy is not Jean but it doesn't make her relationships with her family any less real.

That being said, I do feel for Jean and do not hold her words (spoken in anger and hurt) against her. Because it has to suck having identity and memory issues. On top of all that, she feels like she had been replaced and her husband seems to be closer with her imposter than her.

Slightly off topic, I also don't hold it against Logan for being closer to Original Jean as he would know plenty about identity and memory issues.

[phierie]

Xmen 97 Magneto doodles… 2nd was ref'd from a Hadestown promotional pic

[typhoid-tb-bb]

When the Genosha wants to make Magento, a holocaust victim, their leader but give him the title Chancellor!

[rogueslove]

X-Men: Regenesis

[autistic-rogue]

Marvel your paying for my therapy, so far you have killed Maddy, Remy and possibly Jean(again) and poor baby girl nathan.

The entire genosha(still sobbing)

Logan got his second layer of bones ripped out of him, Magento got stab(like fair Logan).

But hey at least ororo and rogue are serving cunt. Go girls go!!!

[romancemedia]

When I think about Rogue and her decision to choose to join Magento, it really does stem from the events of what happened on Genosha. The rest of the team can easily turn against Magento because they assume he has fallen back into his old habits, but that's not really true. Magneto really was trying to change. He was trying to live up to Xavier's legacy and follow his path, but everything changed when Genosha was attacked.

Minus Rogue and Remy, The X Men weren't there when the attack took place. They weren't there to witness the horror or the many lives being lost before their very eyes. Living through a horrific event like that changes a person. The pain that Rogue and Magento experienced on Genosha is far different compared to the pain the X Men are feeling when they heard the news.

In short, it was really a "You had to be there" situation.

[1nt3rnalpu7ref4ct10n]

s1e4

[nova-reaper-universe]

Toxic X-Men 97’ fans who hate women don’t wanna hear this but Rogue was literally groomed by Magneto, it’s literally explained when she tells Gambit how her and Magneto met.

She literally says that she was with him after the “ran away” from her dad, and she met him after her evil mother approached Magneto to “help with her powers”. She also may have fallen first, but you should NEVER reciprocate these feelings as an adult, you need to instead draw the line and tell her “I am uncomfortable with this type of relationship with you”.

Therefore, STOP SAYING ROGUE IS A WHORE!

[mutantmuses]

I. NEED. MORE. OF. THISSSSSSSSS!!!!

[doctorslippery]

[super-hero-confessions]

[mybelovedklaroline]

to be honest, this season has been ruined for me so far. gambit’s bullshit death, storm absent, and what they did to rogue and might continue to do with her and that gross ass relationship with magneto. if something doesn’t change in the last two episodes, I’m done.

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere! X-Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓔𝔁𝓽���𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 ♡ ｡ ゜

˚୨♡୧˚Magneto - Erik Lehnsherr | مگنیتو - اریک لنشر 

Techno graces your body in lieu of veins. Wires coiling like arteries should. You use it to mimic him, embody him, be him. His starry-eyed parody. Erik needs you to be more, to be everything he -and everybody else- could never be. You are synthetic and sacred in every way, you are the future he so desperately craves. 

He can't help seeing them when he looks at you. The reverend wraiths of tortured adoration speak to him through your eyes. He sees a bit of everyone inside you, Charles, Raven, Rogue... their faces flashing like holy ghosts. You have too many constellations inside of you, all on the verge of erupting. It keeps him up at night, especially when you're curled up on your side of the bed, asleep and oblivious. 

"You will save us, little one, you will be the savior we have longed for"

He feels the centuries rolling through him, desperately lost, trying to find his way back to a home he never even knew. Maybe that's why he kneels, brushing his lips across your knuckles tracing each vein in hopes that'll lead him back to a place he's only ever seen in his dreams. I'll stay lost, I'll wait for you to find me. He knows you will, you'll do anything for him. He's sure of it. 

Genosha asks for a queen, demands it really. It's funny how these things work. Funny how those who rule the world are so intent on destroying it. Kingdoms aren't built in a day yet they can so easily be toppled in one. In turn, Magento asks you. Who else? It's his one cardinal tenet, you are the savior he could never be. The one his people, your people, need. Erik rolls your name between his lips, relishing as the syllables melt on his tongue. There's a magnetic pull to 'queen' it tastes like a hallowed prayer. "My queen" he whispers in your ear, his tongue sending sparks up the cartilage shell. Magneto pins you to his lap, keeping you tethered to his strong body. His fingers run lines up your hips indulging in your presence. You don't squirm although he suspects you want to. his lips lower, kissing your jugular and savoring the ungainly moan that slips past your pretty lips. "M-Magneto" He's only now realizing you've never called him by his birthname, maybe cause in some way you find it treacherous that he should bear such a human thing. He may see you as salvation, yet you've always gazed at him with the pietistic eyes of a zealous worshipper. 

"Use your power, feel the magnetic pull flowing through you."

"You're overcomplicating it again, master, I just need to command that which I need lifted."

You've always been a rebellious student. The sardonic irony isn't lost on him, Magneto finds it fitting that he should master such an intricate pupil.

He wonders if you can forgive him for the bodies he's scattered in your name. From this far up he doubts you notice the broken bodies littering the concrete. He'll do it all again, anything to keep your distractions at bay. His kind needs a leader, not another sanctimonious hero.

You will be their savior.

You will be his queen.

♠️🂱♠️Gambit - Remy Lebeau | گمبیت - رمی لیبو

Remy wonders if the king ever longs to be stacked with the queen. Holding his breath every time the cards are shuffled. Praying that this time, this time for sure, he'll be next to her. Gambit's holding his breath too. There's a lively lilt when you giggle, he wonders if you truly grasp how much he means every word. "Mon Cheri, you know you're the only one for me." It sounds so childish, so jejune and Gambit knows he's too old for school-boy crushes. But he can't help it, he's desperate too, just another aspirant king vying for the attention of his red queen. 

You once told him the blacks of his eyes remind you of a starry night sky back home. He thinks about that too much. About the sting of your hand on his shoulder and how good it felt sitting crooked in his bones. So that's why an ace surpasses the king. There is only, one who holds power. Maybe it's never been about the queen or the king or the royal house. It's been the Ace all along. Remy only has one heart, he knows he only has one ace too. There was an ace of hearts on your nightstand this morning, you don't recall how it got there. 

Remy's kisses are too explosive, they hold all the weight of a dying star. Yet the force never ceases, it feeds off the detonations only growing stronger, you think you'll be consumed in this kinetic nova he calls love. 

-`X´- Cyclops - Scott Summers | سیکلوپ - سکات سامرز

There's a shutter of loneliness crawling up his spine. He knows you feel it too. Scott bends and breaks under its crushing weight. You've always been there, tangible, solid. You're the living metaphor for a rock in a raging river. He just can't find the right words yet. You can't see his eyes, you can't withstand his power. But you can be there holding his hand through it all. 

'Is this selfishness'? Scott wonders and he kisses you under a dying moon. He's never had anything to call his own, nothing that stayed for long anyway. He's snuffed out his desires his whole life. His place is with the X-men, playing the no-choice hero of a thankless story. But you, you're still here, you never left. Even now you stand still as his lips taint yours. He feels your fear, undue thing that it is. But he can't let you go not when everything is always marred in endless red monochrome and melancholy. Not when the only blessing the universe had ever given him comes in the shape of you. He's so tired of only ever knowing the life of a perfect toy soldier. 'Stay' he begs you between each kiss, each touch. Please just stay. Ease his pain.

 

☽✭☾ Wolverine - Logan Howlett | ولورین - لوگان هاولت

He's been alive longer than he cares to count. Running from one hell to another. He remembers your ghost, essence weaving between places too blurred to be graced with a name. But he remembers you, he swears he does. It's just that time is so fickle and so few can withstand its crushing tides. 

"How have you been, Logan?" 

"I..ah... fine, just fine." 

When he looks at you he can't believe the changes. There's no trace of the rosy cheecked little girl who used to chase demons in the snowbanks. Playing hide and seek with every stray in the neighborhood. That's good, he thinks, he likes this refined dignitary better, somehow it brings out your eyes. There's a feral gaze when he looks at you, he thought he was over that. He feels the pulsing of his heart reverberate through his claws. It brings back something less than memories, something nostalgic, yet all so distant it may as well have been the sent of his childhood home. It's not right he thinks, as his claws trace your curves trying to feel something he knows is lost. You quiver, trying to make yourself smaller and he knows, he knows he shouldn't do this. But there are just so many pieces missing and he's never tried to look for any of them. Maybe just this once he can delude himself into remembering. 

˚ʚ★ɞ˚ Nightcrawler - Kurt Wagner | شب خزنده - کورت واگنر

Not too long ago this used to be fine. He's always been better within shadows, letting the soft dark weave around his body. Obscurity has always felt like a second home, a haven in everything but consistency. You speak in italics, talking and talking without understanding what he shoulders. If he didn't deem it blasphemy, Kurt would gladly dub himself Eros.

You would be Psyche. Oblivious, sweet Psyche.

Kurt longs to kiss your cheek, he knows it'll only starve him for more. He wonders how soft your hands will feel. If you'll You cradle his face nails tracing the sharp point of his ears, his fangs, the jagged scar he got from dreaming of you in the danger room. Will you grace him with a kiss? Something to relinquish the anguish stirring within. This should be fine, you're talking to him, laughing with him as he remains hidden within the dark. And yet how can he see this as anything less than retribution? You're so close, just a breath away. If only he could reach out and...

۵𓋹۵ Apocalypse - En Sabah Nur | آپآکلپژ- ان صباح نور

Your heartbeat sounds all too familiar. He used to hear it a thousandfold walking down the Bazaar's street. It's dead now, the noise, the rapture, the music. He wonders what went right for your heart to beat to such a lost tune?  He remembers once hearing that pain travels through families until it lands on the right generation. He's glad fate picked you. He's glad you share the same ancient burdens.

He puts the stars in the sky.

You've been warned against worshipping false idols so blindly.

Yet how can one not fall at his feet?

He who makes the earth tremble and mighty cower. 

He who seems to know everything you do not. 

Your fingers thread through his hair. It's too black, like staring at a moonless sky in December. You wonder if the eternal ebony is what gives Apocolypse his cynical edge. He laughs at the comment as he melts into your familiar touch."Thank you" he mutters. His pride laces every word twisting them into something metaphysical. Nur wonders if you catch the true sentiment behind the words. If the sand and stars make it through. 

You're too archaic for this time Nur thinks as he watches you run across the fields. The other mutants are there, persistent in the games you all play. In his time he'd have already declared you his wife. Do you know the ancient ceremonies? Would you have gifted him gold or flesh? The yearning builds in his throat. Maybe he should have stayed dead. 

Apocolypse lingers the days away in your room, plotting, scheming. You keep him hidden like a blood secret. He's the only one who seems to understand where your power comes from, where you come from. " I could win against you...someday" Your fingers glow igniting a forgotten glow, Nur can't help but laugh as he traces the curve of your spine. " I don't doubt you could, beloved." His blue lips are on the length of your neck. Everything about you screams dead nostalgia. You've followed him through lifetimes. Smiling as you dragged him across the sand dunes just to watch the sunset. How he longs to carve you open and feel your heart between his teeth. 

He's choking on sand.

Drowning in stardust.

Nur feels like he's swallowed the sun whole. Devoured Ra and spat out his holy bones. He still feels the sting of its rays seeping through his teeth. He's divinity and desperation are all in the same breath. Apocalypse and Nur are just two sides of the same daric. You stand in front of him, tracing the blues of his face, kissing the reds of his eyes. An excavation into the lost, unearthing that which could collapse the world. You enjoy him, savor him, keeping his gold essence on your tongue locked behind rose-tinted lips. You beg Nur to dig through your bones, open you up, unseal every crypt. He obliges, kissing the hollow of your bones until his teeth graze your unsteady heart.

"And what will you do once you meet the real world?"

"Oh, nothing, the real world will have to meet me first."

There is so much blood, he doesn't remember doing this. You stand beside him watching the sand in the hourglass run out. He is Apocolypse bringer of destruction, the end of worlds, funny how he needed you, frail sweet thing that you are, to remind him of this. It's only when he looks at you, really really looks at you that he realizes how many things are still the same. Twisted deformed yet still they harbor their old shapes. Apocolypse kisses you under the shade of a palm tree hoping it'll mean something in the end.

Hoping everything can just go back. 

[rogueslove]

X-Men Legacy #231

[autistic-rogue]

Well if the latest X-Men 97 episode taught us anything that this is definitely not a kids show. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Also love rogue in the villain costume, slay queen 👑.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU... From the Platonic Yanderes' Persepective:

(Warnings: Its the ❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU, so expect abuse, neglect, blood, and a whole lot of guilt. The platonic yans who knew Reader in the past weren't nice to them, and while they do get better, they didn't get better until AFTER they thought Reader had died... Viewer discretion is advised... Kurt, Kitty, Fred, Todd/Toad, and Lance joined AFTER Reader's "death"...)

• They don't think they'd always been that bad. That hateful. Awful. Horrible. Terrifying. Cruel. But whether they were or not... they'd turned into something they didn't even recognize, something that was a shameful, guilt-ridden part of their past.

• For the adults (The Professor, Storm, Mystique, Wolverine, Sabretooth, Magento, and Beast), Reader was... someone they acquired through odd means. They weren't the only one they had brought with them, as there were two others, similar to them, and all three were feral mutants. Yet somehow... compared to how the other children were, their "siblings" and the other kids, they didn't quite click. The kids (Scott, Jean, Evan, Rogue, Pietro, and Wanda) didn't like them much, either.. For both groups, perhaps it was how they talked about odd subjects, or was off in their own little world half the time. Maybe it was their forgiving nature, always smiling and trying to be nice no matter what they all said or did. Maybe it was because Reader was everything they had wanted for themselves, but had never been able to have, had never been able to be... Either way, it led to an annoyance. A dislike for them and their cheery voice and soft eyes.

• With the adults, they found Reader odd from the start. A child no older than five who, despite being an experiment, was not like their "siblings", nor like the other children they had on hand. They were... sweet. Cuddly. Someone who just kept trying and trying to get along and be friends with everyone. They didn't seem to have a mean bone in their body. It made them feel... weird. That they didn't seem to understand they were odd, that they weren't cared about all that much. How could they begin to? They were loud, they were persistent, they never seemed to want to be alone and didn't get what was wrong with the world. Not to mention all of the questions! They were irritated most of the time with them, tired of dealing with the steady stream of constant love and inquiries and attempts to hug them.

• Over the years, it was easier and easier to wear then down, to get them to shut up and stay out of the way. Reader didn't seem all that bright when it came to social cues or sarcasm or jokes or how the world really was, and the kids took every opportunity to poke at those. A few jokes here and there, whispers between each other when they were alone, practical jokes at Reader's expense. It was almost funny, watching them try so hard to understand what they were doing and getting all upset over it. Yet Reader never got angry. Hardly acted like a feral, hardly used any of their mutations to win, to protect themself. They made it so easy to mess with them. It was second nature for all of them to do so. To keep prodding and jabbing at their insecurities and lack of knowledge, earning snickers whenever there was more than one witnessing it. In the present, they all can't stop hating themselves over how they acted. How they were the reason they were gone. And how they weren't coming back. And it was all. Their. FAULT. And they couldn't change it, no matter what they did.

• Being the pseudo "siblings" to Reader made them targets, an easy mark (Laura Kinney/X-23 and Kyle Gibney/Wild Child). So they made it so they were the ones over Reader, the ones who were in control. The ones at the top of the heap. They didn't stick up for their "sibling", and they didn't intervene when the other kids messed with them. Why should they? They did it, too. Reader was at the bottom of the pecking order, be it with the kids or with the feral mutants in general. Just because they were a part of them didn't mean they'd stop. Didn't mean they'd coddle them or let their weakness rub off on them. Shoving them aside and staying away from them was natural for them. It wasn't their problem, and they weren't about to lose their own place just to help the most useless mutant they'd met. In the future, they'd wonder why they weren't more attached. Why couldn't they have stuck by their side, protecting them rather than shoving them into the deep end? Without Reader... where did that leave them? They were the only other one like them, someone who had tried to comfort them and befriend them, never caring if they got hurt in the process. Never holding their own shortcomings against them. And now they were gone, and it was awful, and they had one less pack member to run with.

• For the two older feral adults (Wolverine and Sabretooth) to teach Reader had been a task. They were someone who would rather hug someone than try to fight them, a kid who had to be told multiple times what to do, had to be walked through everything, and who seemed to fail almost every time when it came to being aggressive. Their annoyance ran deep, which turned to resentment, which turned to anger every time they saw them. How was THIS creature anywhere near related to them?! How was this thing even worthy of their powers? They were useless, pathetic, weak. They had some points when it came to strength and bite force, but that was a drop compared to the ocean of mistakes they'd made. The river of problems they were. Hating them didn't take much more. And how they'd hate this, looking back on it. They were monsters. There was no other way of saying it. It was their own fault, for pushing and forcing them and always yelling at them. Always letting their cub know what they thought of them, compared to the others. And they were left with a rotting, agonizing self-hatred for themselves. If they hadn't been so hard... If they hadn't been so cruel... Maybe their kid wouldn't have been dead, with no body to bury or mourn...

• No one was quite sure what led to the wounding of Reader. Perhaps it was a scalding lie, or pointing their fingers at each other until it eventually fell on them. Or maybe it was because they could blame it all on Reader, someone who couldn't defend themself and who no one cared if was punished. But when Reader had been dealt with... They were a different person. Someone who shook whenever the adults came by. Who kept away from the other kids with no prompting, walking the other way when they came by. They didn't speak unless they were asked a question, and they didn't look directly at anyone anymore. And their face... Where the skin was once smooth and unbroken, there were deep, rouge-stained gouges, a mark of their new change. It was welcome at first. Finally, they shut up and learned how they all felt. Until-

• They left.

• They left, in the dead of a snow-washed wintery night, leaving as fast as they could and not looking back. And a few of them pursued, chasing after Reader, who they knew was going to be in the largest load of trouble since two weeks ago, when they'd been taught their lesson. When they found them, they were at the edge of some rocks, a river close by and roaring below, and they all felt their ire grow. The adult/s demanded they come back, so they could be done with it. But Reader just stepped back, their arms folding up against their chest, eyes wide like a fawn caught by a predator. They'd demanded again, then again, yelling-

• CRACK!

• The rock fell out from under Reader, who screamed, high and terrified-

• And they were gone, swallowed by the raging waters below, bits of red and pink dotting the foam and surface, soon fading as the river roared on...

• Then suddenly... they weren't so angry anymore. For once, they felt... scared. Hollow. Horrified. It didn't matter when the adults ran over, checking over the remaining ledge and scanning the icy waves below, shouting loudly. It didn't matter when the kids who were with them peered around each other, trying to confirm what had just happened had actually happened. Nor did it matter when they searched the shores of the river and found nothing, save for a few pinkish bits of foam and shards of ice, carrying the scent of iron and frost. All that mattered was Reader was gone... And it was their fault. They had- they didn't mean- it was an acci- what- No matter what excuse they thought of or fleeting emotion they felt-

• Reader was DEAD. And they had no one to blame but themselves.

• The adults after that were... quiet. Sullen. Almost as though in a trance, like they were stuck on that night, like they couldn't get over the fact they saw one of their own kids just die right before their eyes. The kids weren't much better, trying to seek any comfort they could, whether they saw the death or learned it had happened. That winter was blistering cold, as though even the elements were numb and in disbelief.

• This was something they'd joked about... This was something that a few might have talked about... But now that it had actually come true... They didn't feel like laughing anymore. If anything, they felt like crying. Like curling up in a ball and disappearing from the world. This was- it was their fault, wasn't it? Thats what they all believe. If they'd reached out, or- or tried to befriend them, or maybe just treated them better, hugged them back once, they wouldn't have ran, and they wouldn't be frozen in the river, lost to the cold and quiet and night. But... maybe if they even HAD stopped them from running... who's to say they wouldn't have tried something else? If they thought they couldn't leave... would they have done something worse? Would they have actually-?! They feel sick thinking about it, throwing up when they can't stop themselves from imagining it. It's a nightmare, what they're living, and there is no waking up from it.

• The adults slowly start talking again, interacting with them and calling them all together... But according to them, they all... They all are going to try and be better. They say they never should have pushed them so hard, they never should have yelled or forced or neglected their emotional needs. That what they'd been doing before stops there, and it ends there. From now on, things are going to be different. And this time, they're going to learn from what happened. That no one is going to make the mistake they made again.

• They keep their word. The adults grow into caring, more loving figures. They listen to the kids, who turn to teens, and help them. If their views are different, they don't yell or roar or rage at them, don't force them to agree, they simply agree to disagree, and let them know they're there if they need to talk. If the ferals go into their instincts, instead of attacking each other or turning against the others of the facility, they go to a special room where they can simply go through their urges, cuddling together and trying not to cry or hurt themselves for what had happened. The teens become more understanding, caring individuals, being friends rather than foes, and help each other, staying careful of each other's feelings and boundaries. The adults are there, always trying to steer them away from danger, hugging them if they want it (even if they don't), fixing them food if they're hungry, playing games with them, and when they train, it's as a group, as a family, rather than as rivals stuck together.

• Somehow, about three years after Reader's death, a few of them had been exploring at a new area, where the river had run by. It's cold, being so close to it, and it still haunts their dreams, along with a blonde child with bright eyes... Yet one of them finds something, caught in the branches near an old den, sharp and thorny: A piece of cloth, tattered and withered by the wilds, but speckled with rusted brown... When they bring the tattered remnant back to their home, it's inspected, but when the adult ferals look it over... Their eyes go wide, and suddenly their sniffing it, soon looking at them and asking them in a desperate voice where they found it. The moment they say where it was, the entire group is called together to discuss something they haven't discussed in so long... The piece of cloth, it has Reader's scent... So there is the smallest, tiniest chance that... Reader might have survived, after all.

• It doesn't take any prompting for them to pull some of their team members together to form a group to investigate the area they found the shred of cloth, and to scout out the surrounding towns near it. If Reader did survive... they hopefully wouldn't have left the region. And if anyone had seen anything odd, such as a child with claws or a wet bedraggled cat of kid, they would likely remember it (and if they wouldn't share what they knew, they wouldn't mind threatening them to make sure they had every bit of information about it they knew).

• Searching the region, it's clear to see it is mostly desolate of human life, save for small towns hidden in valleys and forests, full of snow-capped trees and icy slicks of ice, flakes of snow falling down like rain. When they stumble on a tiny town surrounded by chilly woods and freezing weather, is when they finally catch word of someone who might have been Reader... A lone child, always quiet and scarred, who brings in pelts and bones for a living... Investigating further, the people say the kid has a family, a sickly parent and a relative who takes care of their schooling when they drop by, but that they've never seen them before. According to the kid, their family is paranoid, leaving them as the only one who isn't afraid of going out and making ends meet.

• Well. It seems they have their lead.

• And when they find a cabin, old and worn and wet, the air is scented... And the smell is one they haven't smelled in three years. Soon, a person can be seen, a lanky teen with long, scruffy blonde hair and bright eyes... The moment they see them, everyone freezes.

• Seeing them again... Seeing how scrawny they are... The scars that mar their skin all over... The hunched shoulders and wide, scared eyes... A scent that turns sharp and acidic, tainted by thick, overflowing fear...

• "Reader..."

• In a flash Reader bolts, darting into the cold woods, not slowing even when they call after them, not stopping when they go after them. Reader keeps a step ahead, fast as a hare as their feet carry them over rocks and past patches of ice. Even trying to dart them doesn't work, the tranquilizer thumping into the snow beside them. The snow keeps falling, dusting them all in powdery white flakes as they follow. The teens who came along fall back when the two ferals signal them, letting then know they'll handle the situation... It doesn't take them much longer to find Reader, cutting them off as they block off either side of the small clearing. And what a moment it is...

• Reader is so... small, compared to them. It doesn't help that they shrink in on themself, their fangs bared and eyes fearful. They can see the scars across their face better now, sliced in and deep, a different color than the rest of their flesh. It's hard, seeing them this way. They're too thin, too shaking, too fearful. Even scars line their arms, as though made by an object rather than by accident... And they realize that even though Reader has been away, they haven't been much better off...

• "Oh cub... What did we do ta ya?"

• Trying to step closer only leads to their cub stepping back. It doesn't take more than a heartbeat for then to try to dodge past them, swift and desperate-

• But one of them manages to snag them by the back of their shirt, dragging them into a hold. They try to reason with them, try to talk them down from a panic attack, being as gentle and sincere as they can. But nothing works. No promises of peace, no begging to help them, no pleas to calm down and give them a chance... None of it works. And they fight them. Sharp claws scratch at them, all while Reader struggles, screaming and wailing and biting, not stopping in the least. They try to do things without force one more time... But when their cub only cries harder, they know it won't go anywhere. Their kid is too deep into their trauma, too scared, and the most merciful thing to do is to cut it short.

• The syringe is jabbed in, quick and sharp, and pulled out a second later once it's empty. Explaing to their cub that it was only a sedative makes them cry harder, a broken sob escaping them. Their struggles grow wilder for a minute- until it starts to slow down, as the drug takes effect. They pat their head softly, a hiccup escaping the cub as the medicine calms them down, making them tired and relaxed. Feeling the way they slowly relax, their limbs slackening and their breaths slowing, a tired mumble coming from them... It isn't what they want, but they can't deny how right it feels, getting their kid to feel better. To soothe them when they've been hurtin'. When the cub passes out, slumping into his arms, he's every bit careful and soft, picking them up and letting his brother lead the way back to the others, alerting them that they have Reader with them.

• This isn't how they wanted it ta go... But... If this is what it takes ta keep 'em safe. Ta make 'em feel better. Ta take care of 'em... So be it. All that matters is helpin' Reader, keepin' em safe an' fed an' well, makin' em feel loved an' cared fer. They might have ta be a little forceful about it. That's fine. They'll be as gentle as they can, an' make sure their cub can't hurt themself er others. They'll keep 'em happy, they'll make it so they know how much they care. Even if it takes a lifetime, they'll keep proving how sorry they are, how much they missed 'em, how much they love them... They might well be immortal... Who's to say their cub isn't, too? And this time, they're all going to be a family. No more fighting. No more rivalries. All of them, together, will make things right. That's a promise that they won't break, no matter what comes their way...