#◤ — beastly intellect ┖ FT HANK ┒

[ascnsion]

▋ 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑫 .  .  .  .  .  ❛ so apparently the 'bad vibes’ i’ve been feeling are actually severe psychological distress. ❜    𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈  @heroiisms​  .  .  .   ┖ incorrect quotes dialogue prompts ┒

The world was fine. An explosion of LIFE, an explosion of joy — a return to the smog littered and tree clearing planet Earth, yet everything was fine. It was the oddest time in history where overwhelming happiness mixed with the oil of past and future dread. Old worries surfaced from beyond the just closed wounds of grief like parasites escaping a host no longer viable, and the devil hued mutant watched with keen eye as the little monsters crawled free to infect others. Infect himself. When it came down to it, life on any planet contained its obstacles, and it mattered little how advanced human history was or how many creatures inhabited the earth. 

Charming, laid-back, and impeccably skilled at getting to people’s nerves, bathing in the ultra violet rays of the sun was the post-Thanos world Remy LeBeau indulged in. It wasn’t his obligation to solve the happy crises of a sudden outburst of re-population, nor was it the X-Men’s, and Remy truly took it to heart. The best time to unwind and bask in the happiness of having his fellow mutants return to life was right before the shit hit the fan. It WOULD hit . . It was already hitting. Sweat trickled down chest, back, neck, following the grooves of action-sculpted muscles as the sun continued to beat down and down. Skin sizzled. The formerly cold glass residing on the glass table adjacent to the lounge chair was sweating profusely. 

He heard the footsteps giving way through aptly grown grass, and a little part of Remy hoped it was someone clad in a bikini eager to take a dip in the pool. The bayou mutant waited and waited. The patio furniture beside him creaked gently, and the lack of anything flirtatious or snarky being uttered prompted the opening of eyelids. Of all the X-Men, he had not expected Hank to grace him with his presence . . what so far away from the lab or the office. Remy’s sweaty skin produced a wet noise as he shifted in the lounge chair, and fingers moved through unruly curls of auburn hairs to give his temple a modicum of relief.   

❝  Remy takes it you’re not here for a dip, mon ami; too dressed up fo’ dat. Somethin’ be on your, oui?  ❞  Matters with Raven, Scott, Wolverine, the world? The mutant kept his demeanor casual while worries circulated about his head; it almost made him feel guilty for lounging about as though there were no cares in the world. Hank’s words shocked him into silence, and Scott might have paid a hefty price to see the rare sight. A quizzical expression crossed his face, and he suddenly moved bare legs over the side of the lounge chair to better face Hank.

❝  Please tell a homme you be jokin’. Psychological problems have been a common t’ing dese past few years. . You’ve got my ear, Hank. ❞  There it was  — the creeping parasites infecting everyone good.