The first thing Charles could see was a big, bright light. He could hear mumbling from a little phone that was sitting on an ottoman a few feet away. Gentle hands were sewing him together, pulling his button eyes into position and finalizing his body. They turned him around, and the one holding him whispered to themself.
“Huh… you look kinda… Coraline-y. You’re turning out better than I expected.” They gave him a loud - SQUEAK - startling him. He could make that sound? What was stranger, immediately after doing that, they proceeded to squeak him rapidly for a few minutes, giggling the whole time. When they finished, they set him down on their lap and started cutting apart more fabric.
He gathered a few things very quickly: his name was Charles Xavier, he was primarily made in a moment of “wouldn’t this be silly”, and his creator’s name was Aster. While he would’ve loved to say he got all this from masterful telepathy skills, he sadly didn’t have those, instead relying on a text popping up on the phone screen to tell him Aster’s name. They apparently had been discussing his creation with said friend for a while.
All night long, he listened to the phone continue its mumbly speech about a scary game while he sat in Aster’s lap. They spent the whole time making a very small suit, tailored to fit him exactly. He got a little pair of underwear and undershirt too. By the time they fell asleep, he had a tiny three piece suit and tie and an itty bitty pocket square. It was a nice feeling, knowing he was important enough to have special little clothes made just for him.
During the night, as he was resting on Aster’s rising and falling chest, someone whispered over at him.
“Psst,” the voice chuckled, “Yer the new guy, ain’t ya Chuck?” Charles looked up to see a stuffed Logan and Sabretooth up on a shelf. They were cuddled against each other and seemed pretty friendly.
“Hi! I’m Victor, the one who jus’ said yer name s’ Logan.” Victor filled him in on everything, explaining how Aster made him and how he was watching the whole time. The two seemed to be rather nice, and he spent most of the night chatting with them, even after Logan “dozed” off. That confused Charles a bit, considering they weren’t exactly alive in the most clinical sense.
Victor then explained how being cared about and loved by their creator or others helped them become alive in a magic sort of way. He likened it to a book that Aster had read when they were little. While it was a pleasant talk, Charles felt a little stupid afterwards.
He understood he was based around a comic character. However, what he didn’t understand was the way Aster would joke about said character. As far as Charles could understand, he was a hero, but Aster seemed to have a slight distaste for him. Charles knew there was a broad distinction between him and his comic counterpart, of course, but that didn’t exactly help. Aster was sweet to him, but it stung slightly to know his source wasn’t very well liked.
It also felt strange to know his source material was supposedly incredibly intelligent, but he barely knew anything. Victor and Logan tried to explain to him that it was because he was new, and that it was very normal not to know a lot just yet. But Charles didn’t like that, he wanted to be smart enough to hold a “conversation” with his creator. He desperately wanted to be better so maybe Aster would like his character a little more, and by extension, him. Aster also had a horrid habit of listening to scary stories and things like that late at night. Even if he didn’t sleep, it spooked him more often than not, and he would end up eyeing the dark corners of the room, worried something was going to pop out and grab him or Aster.
After a few weeks, he had been carried around almost everywhere with Aster and introduced to practically everyone they knew. He actually was brought to their classes as well, but unlike Victor, he didn’t get the bag to himself. It was shared with all of the things they carried around day to day: textbooks, notebooks, a tablet, keys, wallet, a water bottle… pretty much anything they could shove into the tote with him. The bag simply being set down was often enough for the squeaker to be set off. To his surprise, that would often earn a startled apology and bag adjustment from Aster.
“Are they always like this?”, Charles piped up from his place in the tote bag one afternoon. He was currently squished between a tablet and a textbook, propped up on Aster’s bed near the window. Aster was busy getting ready to see a movie with their family and had already prepped everything to go. Victor and Logan were happily perched on the windowsill, mildly amused at his misfortune.
“Yep! Been like that since they made me at least. I’ve been t’ the movies once, and everything was so much bigger! Even sound!” Victor giggled, leaning against Logan. “You must be having fun gettin’ to go on so many adventures! S’ been a bit since we’ve been taken around, s’ a little tiring to be honest. I don’t know how ya do it bub.”
It was true, Charles was enjoying getting to see people. However, he wasn’t exactly treated like the other plushies. For starters, the squeaker inside of him that Aster just loved to press whenever they started getting stressed, which happened a LOT it seemed. On top of that, they had a habit of handing him over to their friends whenever said friend got stressed, and those folks had a habit of being a little rough with him.
Ok, maybe that was an understatement. Why just the other afternoon, Aster had handed him to their friend while she was crying so she could let off steam, and he was unceremoniously thrown on the floor, hard. Like, he was full force slammed to the ground by this woman he had barely seen twice. It had set his squeaker off, and the floor was all dirty. It was not a very nice feeling.
Granted, he was immediately plucked up by Aster moments later and held close to their chest. He got an apology, but it didn’t make him feel much better. Every day he wished more and more he had real telepathy like his comic counterpart, because if he did, maybe he could talk to Aster for real instead of the monologuesque one-sided discussions he was used to. Maybe he could tell them how he felt about the somewhat rough treatment from their friends.
His thoughts were interrupted by Aster bounding back into the room and happily plucking him from the bag, giving him a hug and squeaking him.
“You get to come to the movies! Ain’t that grand?” They just seemed so happy to bring him along, it brightened Charles’ spirits slightly. He was set back into the bag and dragged downstairs to the car. The whole ride, he was on Aster’s lap and tucked into the seatbelt. The sheer fact that they paid enough attention to make sure he was safe, even if it wasn’t necessary, gave him a funny, warm feeling in his chest.
He only had to be in the bag for a little bit when they got to the theater, as once the pre-show ended he was snuck out and plopped into the crook of Aster’s arm. The screen was so big, Charles felt utterly dwarfed by it. He couldn’t even be one hundredth of that thing, and it lit up the entire room. The speakers were so loud, he could feel the vibrations in his chest. It was a bit much, if he was being honest.
Ironically, Charles hadn’t paid much attention to what movie they were going to, so it was needless to say he was utterly terrified when a trailer for a scary movie popped up. The screaming was so much worse than what Aster watched at home, to the point it even made them jump. If Charles was capable of screaming, he would have. The trailer thankfully wasn’t very long, but it made him feel sick to his squeaker.
Charles’ hopes that the trailer was the only scary part were unfortunately dashed very quickly, as it turned out the film he was at was Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice and the entire movie was going to be this way. The opening scene alone made him wish he could cover his button eyes, and it simply got worse from there. Aster was so busy focusing on the film, they failed to notice his little plushie body shaking with fright.
Every time something gory happened, he flinched, cursing that he couldn’t cry any tears. Something about the way Beetlejuice moved around and could take his body apart was unnerving, and every scene with a dead person upset him more and more. There was just too much blood and gore for one plushie to handle, and even though Aster covered his eyes for him at a few points, it wasn’t enough to keep him from seeing all the scary bits.
By the time the movie was over, his squeaker felt so bad he doubted it would make any noise at all. The laughter around him wasn’t helping his mood, and even when he was back in Aster’s lap in the car, he didn’t feel any better. Aster and their family were happily chatting about the film, all while Charles just wanted everyone to stop talking so he didn’t have to think about that accursed film anymore.
Back home in bed, Charles could feel the rise and fall of Aster’s chest as they slept, their heartbeat a quiet rhythm that sadly did little to calm his nerves. Logan and Victor were up in Aster’s apartment, and as they had chosen to stay with their family that evening, he had no one to talk to. Every little creak or bump from the house settling set off a new feeling of dread in him. It was too quiet, too dark, and he couldn’t get the movie out of his head. Scary stories were one thing, but seeing nasty things like that looking so big… that was a whole other can of worms entirely.
Worms… the worm from the movie could be under Aster’s bed, or maybe it could be outside the bedroom window. A light tap against the window made him jerk in fear, not wanting to look up and see the scary staple lady.
Much to Charles’ dread, he could feel himself “dozing” off for the first time since his creation. Of all the horribly timed things, this had to be the worst. He tried to stay awake, he really did, but his vision blurred out against his will and before he knew it, he was asleep.
When his vision came back, he was being pulled through a spirally tunnel, neon lights flashing all around. It was somehow too dark and too bright all at once, and someone with a nasty laugh was cackling away somewhere Charles couldn’t see. He could feel Aster’s hands on him, and it sounded like they were laughing at him as well.
He was thrown harshly against the floor, and a giant foot started jumping up and down on him, causing his squeaker to screech in protest. Ghouls that towered over him started dancing around, joining in on the laughter. All of them had various horrifying injuries, some with missing heads and others huge holes in their chests or stomachs. A few were all bloody, and one’s face was turning blue.
It was too much.
It was all too much.
Charles burst into tears, droplets of neon color pooling in his eyes as a towering version of Aster leaned into his face and started listing everything they hated about him with a massive grin. They weren’t even talking about the character this time. Now they were talking about every imperfection on his suit, in his stitching, how one ear was a little smaller than the other, how he was too floppy and had an unreliable squeaker. The ground opened up and a cackling version of his comic counterpart dressed like Beetlejuice rose from the crack, singing a song about a Banana Boat.
It was a symphony of agony, and all Charles could do was sob as everything closed in on him.
His vision cleared as he hit the floor face first, now blurred only by…tears? Somehow, he had managed to roll off of Aster’s chest and then the bed. He was somewhat shocked to feel the tears on his face, as he shouldn’t have been able to cry. Then again, he shouldn’t have been able to fall off the bed on his own either.
He was ready to simply cry on the floor the rest of the night, terrified something was going to crawl out from under the bed and drag him into the abyss, but movement from the bed gets his attention. Aster had woken up, and saw him laying on the floor.
“Hmm? Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry about that Charles!” They leaned down and plucked him up off the cold floor, holding him to their chest as they pulled the blanket over their head.
“You’re all wet… how’d that happen?” Of course, being made of stuffing and tshirt, he couldn’t exactly answer. Charles was still stressed and scared, and out of all the times he’d tried to use telepathy to get a point across, he figured now was as good a time as any. If he could cry, maybe he could at least get a thought or two in?
“ SCARED .” He focused every ounce of his energy on getting that thought into Aster’s mind.
“ SCARED ”. He thought more insistently, and Aster’s brow furrowed. It looked a bit like they might’ve caught that thought? Maybe? They couldn’t have, could they?
“Were you having bad dreams?” Aster mumbled to him, keeping him tight against their chest. “I bet you were, poor thing. I didn’t expect the movie to be that graphic either… that’s the most gore I think I’ve seen in a movie in a good while.”
They understood, even if it was a coincidence, they understood!! Charles wanted to sob all over again, if only because he got a point across. Aster began cuddling him a little more, turning on a quieter show as background noise to fall back asleep. The gentle sounding voices from King of the Hill lull him slightly, and he started to find comfort in Aster’s breathing. The way they were holding him and being gentle made him feel like less of a stress toy and more like a doll. For once, he felt as though he was cared about the same way Victor, Logan, and all the other plushies were.
“G’night Charles… I won’t let you fall again, I’ve got you”. Aster whispered, falling back asleep as they held him tightly. They were gentle, keeping him pressed to their chest. Being under the blanket made it feel like there was a magical barrier between him and the darkness. Aster had turned on a little string of sparkly lights, so even if he poked his head out, the dark was much less intimidating.
As he felt himself starting to “doze” again, he decided to try and reach Aster’s mind once more. He was getting one emotion very strongly, love. That warmth he felt in his chest before swelled once again as he was comforted and held. He was safe, Aster wasn’t going to let anything get him. He was loved, they genuinely loved him.
Of course they did, Charles realized. They had poured hours into creating him and had been careful when they worked on the delicate parts. They had been upset when their friends were playing with him roughly. They carried him around to classes for goodness sake. Nothing that Dream-Aster said could’ve been true, because on more than one occasion they told people how much they liked all the little “imperfections” that were part of him being a handmade doll.
With a content “sigh”, Charles snuggled himself into the crook of Aster’s arm, burying his face into their chest. He had so much to tell Victor and Logan in the morning, but for now, he was content to stay right here.