#Hank watches in envy…

[trashcansienna]

THE GANGS ALL HERE!!

[positivelybeastly]

What's supposed to be the implications of this quote?

“How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!”

"Ahh. Well, to understand the quote, you first have to understand where it comes from and the wider context of the work. It originates in Eloisa to Abelard, a verse epistle written by Alexander Pope in 1717 - a verse epistle being a poem told over the course of several letters, hence the title."

"It's inspired by the real life story of Héloïse d'Argenteuil and Peter Abelard, a romance with a twenty year age gap from the 12th century, one kept secret from the world at large so as not to destroy Abelard's career.

But, as is inevitably the case with stories that survive hundreds of years, the secret came out. Héloïse's family castrated Abelard, and he joined a monastery in shame for his quite literal loss of manhood."

"Her own prospects now dim, Héloïse, or Eloisa, was convinced by Peter to take vows as a nun. They led successful, if . . . lesser, lives, in their respective monasteries, but Abelard continued to write, most notably the Historia Calamitatum, which, as you might guess, is a history of misfortunes . . . his autobiography. When Eloisa read it, her passion for him was reignited, and they wrote to one another.

But. Things had changed."

"They tried to make sense of their tragedy, of why them, of why they had been betrayed, why their love had to be so profoundly dashed upon the rocks, but it only brought them pain. In the poem, which is a fictionalised version of the real life series of these events, Eloisa confesses her love, remembering the life they had enjoyed together.

And in remembering, and remembering the pain that comes with remembering, she exclaims;

"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!”

How happy is the innocent virgin's lot in life? The world forgets her, and she is, by the world, forgotten. In a mind without darkness, before tragedy, before loss, before failure, there is nothing but eternal sunshine. What a happy state of being that must be, to not know and to forget."

"How happy we are, when we are ignorant. Before we ruin ourselves."

[sorcerer-felix]

I've never been the biggest guy about 5'5 and 180 Ibs. People think I am 10 years younger than I am (I'm 29). I wish I could be one of those huge muscular guys that has a commanding presence and oozes masculinity.

The gym buzzed with the sounds of grunting weights and the rhythmic thud of sneakers against treadmills. You watched, enviously, as the muscular men strutted around, their broad shoulders and commanding presence making you feel like a shadow in their midst.

You stood there in your oversized t-shirt, wishing you could be one of them��someone who could walk into a room and have everyone take notice. You were halfway through your lukewarm set of curls when you caught sight of Felix, the sorcerer. He was running on a treadmill, his blond hair flowing behind him like a golden banner.

You approached, half out of desperation and half out of curiosity. “Felix,” you said, slightly out of breath, “I wish I could be one of those huge muscular guys that has a commanding presence and oozes masculinity.” With a playful grin, Felix kept running. “That can be arranged, but it’s not just about appearance. It’s also about attitude. You need a mentor who shows you how to be commanding!” He paused his run, producing a tarot card. “Here, take this. It’s the Wheel of Fortune. If you find the right mentor, lay the card on the table and he will magically become your mentor and teach you everything you need to know!” You took the card, though skepticism nagged at the back of your mind. Still, you had nothing to lose.

Over the next few days, you wandered the gym, eyeing potential mentors. You’d approached some of the guys at the gym, hoping for guidance, but they were all brawn and no brains—mere meatheads with egos to match their muscles. Each encounter left you feeling more deflated. You wanted someone who could teach you not just how to lift weights but how to command a room, to embody the confidence that oozed from those muscular titans. Each failed attempt left you feeling more frustrated and disheartened. When you arrived at the office that day, the last thing you needed was Hank, your colleague. He strode in, exuding an air of arrogance that made your skin crawl. He was tall—towering, really—his muscles rippling beneath a fitted shirt that did little to hide his vanity. You hated him for it, yet a small part of you envied the way he filled the room with his presence. You despised him for his cocky swagger, but even more for the way his confidence made you feel small. "Hey, buddy," he said, stepping behind your chair, his voice a low rumble that dripped with condescension. You could feel the warmth of his body close to you, and his hands landed possessively on your shoulders. “Uh, Hank,” you started, trying to suppress the flutter of irritation in your chest. “Can you maybe not—” “Relax.” He leaned closer, peering at the screen. “What’s this? Your latest failure? Just look at this,” he said, his breath warm against your ear. You swallowed hard, trying to shake off the discomfort.

Then, disaster struck. Suddenly, the tarot card Felix had given you slipped from your shirt pocket, fluttering to the desk like a fallen leaf. You watched in disbelief as it landed, the edges glowing a magical blue. “What’s that?” Hank asked, his tone shifting from casual to curious.

Before you could reply, the card began to glow with a magical blue light. You stared in disbelief as the image on the card shifted to reveal a young man in a black jumpsuit, opened to the waist, with a dog mask covering his face. The imprint read "The Dog".

Your breath hitched. “Wha—?” Your body began to shift, warmth enveloping you as if you were being wrapped in a cocoon. “No! Wait!” you gasped, but it was too late. You fell to your knees, your shirt and dress pants melting into the silky fabric of the jumpsuit. A mask materialized over your face, obscuring your features. Hank’s laughter echoed in your ears, deep and mocking. “I guess I will name you Rowdy!” he said, his voice booming with satisfaction. You wanted to protest, to scream and tell him to fuck off, but all you could manage was a muffled growl, the mask constricting your voice.

The transformation continued, and you felt your body reshape, fur sprouting from your skin. You whimpered, a sound that was no longer human, as you became a sleek black dog. You looked up at Hank, who grinned down at you, a smug satisfaction radiating from him. “Good boy,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

Hank’s voice became a beacon of command in your mind, and you found yourself craving his approval, yearning for his direction. “Let’s train, Rowdy,” he said, a glint of excitement in his eyes. “You’re going to learn how to fight.” Days turned into weeks, and the training was brutal. Hank pushed you to your limits, and each fight honed your aggression and dominance.

The damp, concrete cellar was a far cry from the polished gym where you once felt so small. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and blood, the walls echoing with the growls and barks of dogs locked in combat. You were now one of them—at least in the sense that your body has been transformed into dogs'. The weight of your new body felt powerful, but beneath that strength was a struggle against the obedience that Hank had drilled into you. “Rowdy!” Hank barked, his voice a commanding rumble that sent a shiver through you. You instinctively dropped to all fours, your muscles taut and ready, eyeing him with a mix of anticipation and resentment. “Get over here!” You couldn't help but follow, the instinct to obey surging within you. As you approached, drool dripped from your lips, a sign of your growing ferocity, but inside, a part of you seethed. “Damn it,” you thought, your mind fighting against the dog inside. Hank crossed his arms, watching you with a smirk. “You’re getting better, boy. Can’t wait to see you tear into that mutt tonight. You’ve got the spirit of a champion.” His eyes shone with sadistic pride. You growled low in your throat, the sound escaping before you could suppress it. The thrill of the fight surged in your veins, a hunger that eclipsed the small, shy man you used to be. But it was Hank’s voice that kept you in line, the master that had reshaped you into this beast. “Sit!” he commanded, and against your will, your body complied, your haunches hitting the ground. “Good boy!” he praised, and the words stirred something within you—an odd mix of pride and loathing. As the days wore on, you felt the relentless rhythm of training seeping into your very being. The more you fought, the more you craved it. Every victory in the pit heightened your adrenaline, but it was always Hank’s approval that lingered in your mind. You hated the way it felt to seek his validation, yet there you were, locked in a cycle of obedience.

“Tonight’s fight is important,” Hank said, leaning closer, his breath hot against your face. “You need to show everyone who’s boss. You’re not just a dog; you’re my dog.” The possessiveness in his tone made you bristle, the primal part of you wanting to snap at him for his arrogance, yet you found yourself nodding, the obedience coursing through you like a drug. “Good. Now let’s see that aggression.” He tossed you a worn-out training dummy, and you lunged for it, sinking your teeth into the fabric. The thrill of tearing it apart sent sparks of pleasure through your body, and you felt a growl rumble deep in your chest. “Yeah, that’s it! Let it out!” Hank shouted, his voice a mix of excitement and authority. You could see the gleam in his eyes, and you knew he delighted in your ferocity, feeding it like a twisted form of affection.

Hours later, you stood in the makeshift pit, the crowd surrounding you like vultures, ready to witness the carnage. Your muscles were taut, every fiber of your being ready to explode into action. Hank stood at the edge, his gaze fixed on you, the way he commanded the room making you feel both empowered and trapped. “Show them who you are, Rowdy!” he shouted, and you surged forward, the thrill of the fight consuming you. You felt the adrenaline wash over you, the instinct to dominate and destroy taking control. As you lunged at your opponent, the rush of aggression overwhelmed you. You could almost taste the blood, the primal joy of the fight igniting a frenzy within.

But just as you were about to unleash your full power, a voice broke through the haze. “Rowdy, enough!” Hank’s command cut through the chaos, and you skidded to a halt, panting, your body trembling with pent-up energy. You hated that you had to obey, but the truth was, you had become his. “Good boy,” Hank cooed, and while your instincts roared for freedom, a part of you reveled in the praise. The thrill of the fight became an addiction, and you would often find yourself in a frenzy, teeth bared, ready to tear into anything that moved. It was Hank’s steady grip on your collar that pulled you back from the edge of madness when you teetered too close. In that moments, you were his perfect fighting dog, powerful and aggressive, yet completely obedient. The conflict within you grew, but as you locked eyes with Hank, you felt an odd sense of belonging.

One evening, after a particularly brutal training session, you lay stretched out on a couch in Hank’s luxurious loft. The scent of leather and cologne hung in the air as you panted, muscles sore but exhilarated. Hank leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. Felix strolled in, his presence lighting up the room. “How is he performing?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Hank chuckled, pride swelling in his chest. “He’s a good boy now. The perfect fighting dog—strong, aggressive, but totally loyal towards me!” Felix raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So, I guess you’ve taught him everything he needs to know!”

With a flick of his wrist, Felix summoned the magic again. You felt a tingling sensation wash over your body, and in an instant, everything changed. The world around you twisted and blurred, and suddenly, you were standing upright. You looked down, astonished to find yourself transformed back into a human. But you weren’t the meek office worker anymore. Gone was the timid, thin frame. Instead, you were a muscular, handsome man with black hair and a rugged stubble.

You felt the power coursing through you, the confidence radiating from your very being. “What the—” you started, your voice deep and commanding now. You flexed your arms, marveling at the definition in your biceps. Hank looked you up and down, a satisfied grin on his face. “Rowdy, you look incredible,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “I knew you had it in you.” Felix clapped his hands together, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “See? I told you it was all about attitude. You’ve become the man you always wanted to be!” You felt a surge of energy, a newfound sense of self. “I… I never thought I could be like this,” you said, testing your voice. It was rich and resonant, dripping with authority. Hank stepped closer, his gaze steady. “You’ve earned this. You fought hard, and now you have what you wanted—a commanding presence.” As you looked around the luxurious loft, you realized just how far you had come. The weight of your insecurities melted away, replaced by a sense of purpose. “What’s next?” you asked, the thrill of excitement bubbling in your chest. Felix grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Now, it’s time for you to embrace your new life. The world is yours to conquer, Rowdy.” With a shared nod between the two of you, a new chapter began. You felt the weight of the past lift, replaced by the thrill of limitless possibilities. You were ready to command attention, to assert yourself in a world that had once overlooked you. As laughter echoed through the loft, you knew that you were no longer the invisible worker—you were Rowdy, a force to be reckoned with.

[megalony]

Extinguishing Flames

It's been a while, but here is a new Charles Xavier imagine for you all, thank you to anon who requested this and I'm sorry it took me so long to get round to. I hope you will all like it.

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Main Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) doesn't like the snow, it dampens her pyrokinetic powers and reminds her that not everyone likes her mutation. Charles strives to show her she's safe with them; with the X-men.

Enjoy.

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With her arms bound around her chest, (Y/n) leaned her head against the window, feeling a shiver pass down her spine at the cold seeping through her skin from the glass. Her fingers grazed up and down her arms while her tired eyes looked out into the night.

Her feet began to tap against the wall and her knees pulled up towards her stomach, curving her form into a cramped shape to fit in the window seat that now accomodated her.

It was snowing.

She hated the cold; especially snow.

Her arms tightened around her chest, hugging herself as if she were cold, but she wasn't. It took a great deal of effort for (Y/n) to get cold. Her eyes locked on the scene ahead of her that should have made her smile and warmed her heart, but all it did was make icicles stab at her chest.

Raven, Hank and Alex were messing about in the snow. It made them look like young school children rather than adults, and it should have been endearing. Seeing them throwing snowballs, jumping into the snow and stomping their footprints into the fresh powder should have been a lovely sight.

Watching them made envy swell in (Y/n)'s heart. She could never find it in herself to smile whenever the weather began to snow. It felt like she was being taunted.

"Not joining the fun?"

She didn't tear her eyes away from the window at the sound of Erik's voice. She didn't have to look to know it was him who had walked into the drawing room and she could feel his presence when he stood close beside her.

His reflection was visible in the window. A thick jumper with a high turtle neck that reached his chin. Thick woollen trousers to keep out the cold and his hands stuffed into his pockets. Hair swept back in his usual fashion and one brow arched in an almost cynical manner.

"Wouldn't be much fun if I joined." Unravelling one hand from the hug she was giving herself, (Y/n) held her hand out in Erik's direction without looking at him.

Her fingers curled up and creased her palm like she was holding an invisible cup and when her fingers began moving back and forth, a spark appeared. Flickering strikes of amber and burnt gold ignited in her palm until flames were circling around her hand and dancing in the warm air.

In an instant, (Y/n) curled her fingers into her palm, crushing the flames until tendrils of smoke drifted through her fingers and the flames were extinguished.

It wouldn't make for much fun if (Y/n) went out to join the rest of the team. Their fun wouldn't last if (Y/n) tried to pick up the snow and watched it melt into water that ran between her fingers and dribbled down her arms. Her footprints would melt into sunken puddles. The snow would become feeble and delinquent beneath her body heat. The natural heat she gave off from being pyrokinetic would ruin their winter fun.

Staying inside was easier than going out and ruining the games they were trying to play. They were looking for fun, for an escape from the pressures their team faced by trying to change the world's view on them. (Y/n) wouldn't be much fun.

"Oh I don't know. I'd want you on my team in a snowball fight." Erik nudged his elbow into her arm before he stalked over to sit in the arm chair in front of the fire.

It would be interesting to have a snowball fight against an opponent who could melt the snow before it hit them.

(Y/n) turned her head away from the window and looked towards Erik. He was sat in a manner that looked regal. Back straight in the tall chair, one leg crossed over the other, a book in his hand, seemingly procured out of nowhere.

She noticed his leg jittering up and down out of habit and when she looked towards the fireplace, she noticed it was void. Maybe he was cold. It was hard for (Y/n) to determine the room temperature when she was always perfectly toasty. She could walk out into the cold and feel nothing from the natural heat she produced.

Maybe the air was cold in here, maybe the whole mansion was freezing and (Y/n) didn't know it.

She dropped her legs down from the window seat and pushed up so she was sitting properly rather than slouching down. Her feet tapped and danced against the floor while she stretched her hand out and waited for the flames to spark and grow in her palm.

Once the flames were growing and twinkling like a ballerina gliding in the air, (Y/n) leaned forward with her arm outstretched. She carefully blew into the flame and pointed her index finger in the direction of the empty fire. Within seconds, the flames were dancing across the coals and a roaring fire was crackling and simmering in the hearth.

She felt a sense of calmness overwhelming her when she watched Erik's lips form into a grin without him breaking his eyes away from the book he was engrossed in.

At least he and Charles were amused by her powers. Other than the mutants here at the mansion, (Y/n) had never found anyone like her before. She never knew other mutants existed. She never found people like her who thought her powers were anything but a hindrance or a threat.

Her head snapped to the right and a shudder tore through her body when a resounding thud echoed through the room and made the window panes tremble.

A snowball.

A large wad of snow had smashed into the window like an explosion. Crystals of snow were sprinkled across the window like a splattered egg and they looked cemented on. It was cold enough that the snow didn't melt or slide down the glass at all.

When (Y/n) peered through the gaps, she could see Raven trying to wave at her, and Alex jumping up and down, motioning his hands. It was hard to determine whether they were ushering her to join them or simply making fun of her. She didn't want to find out which it was.

Without thinking, she pressed her palm against the middle window pane, tapping her fingers idly against the glass while the snow began to melt. It continued until the flakes lost their shape and melted into droplets that ran down onto the windowsil.

She kept her hand there until the last droplets began to twist and evaporate into steam that swirled in large puffs around the window. Her hand tremored and she quickly ripped her palm from the glass when it began to mesh and become a bright shade of red and orange as her palm glowed and hissed. Any longer and her palm would have fused with the glass that had heated enough to start to melt.

They weren't smiling anymore. The three of them were watching the window with raised brows until (Y/n) got up and silently left the drawing room, leaving Erik to his book in solace.

With her arms bound around her waist, (Y/n) trailed out of the room and down the hall. She wasn't sure where she was going until she found herself in the kitchen.

It felt like she was on autopilot as she poured a cup of milk and cradled the cup between her hands until steam started to waft up towards her nose. Her head tilted to one side and she set her cup down when she looked towards the back door. It was open. No wonder Erik had been chilly if the rest of them had left the door open ajar in this weather.

The brisk chill from outside hit (Y/n) like a train when she went to close the door and she found herself peering outside.

She couldn't stop herself from nudging her foot over the threshold, just to test the boundaries. Her bare foot scraped against the snow that started to form a puddle around her limb the moment she touched the snow. (Y/n) had never been able to hold snow in her hands before. It melted instantly. She couldn't admire the unique flakes and their twisting formations before they were back to basic liquid form.

The cold seeped into her skin that barely bristled or formed goosebumps at the change in temperature. But the longer she kept her foot there, surrounded by melting snow and a large formation of water, the more (Y/n) started to feel uneasy.

She could sense the memories plaguing the back of her mind, trying their best to come forward and take her back to the past.

"Should I ask what you're doing?"

The soft tone of Charles's voice brought (Y/n) back to the present and made her look over her shoulder. He was stood near the kitchen counter, one hip slouched against the island with both hands tucked into his pockets. He had a few unruly curls falling out of formation.

The creases around his eyes and the soft quirk of his lips made adrenaline pool in (Y/n)'s stomach. She found herself trying to smile before she realised she still had one foot over the threshold. Quickly her foot retracted back inside and she shut the door, making sure not to lock it so everyone could come back inside when they were finished freezing half to death.

"Looking at the weather." (Y/n) didn't want to say admiring the weather, because they both knew that would be a lie. She couldn't admire something she detested.

When he held his hand out towards her, (Y/n) dipped her head to hide her smile and moved in his direction. She let him take her hand and reel her into his side and her heart glowed brighter than the fire she created in her palms when he moved their entwined hands. He looped them up so his arm was over the back of her shoulders and neck with their hands on her shoulder, allowing (Y/n) to be tucked up under his arm.

His lips attached to the side of her head and he closed his eyes, tipping his forehead against her hair.

Charles loved the heat that always radiated off of her, especially in this weather. Who needed heating when (Y/n) was nearby?

He turned them around and once (Y/n) grabbed her drink, he guided them out the kitchen.

He knew exactly what this kind of weather did to (Y/n) and he didn't want her to panic or slip back into the past. While it was snowing outside, they could be doing so many other things in here to distract from the bad weather.

Charles would never delve into (Y/n)'s mind, he was reserved about poking about in her head even when she asked him to. He had spent the majority of his life learning how to control his mutation and prevent himself from slipping into the minds of others because he knew it was intrusive, even if he couldn't always help it.

But he didn't have to dive into (Y/n)'s mind to know that the snow was bringing back bad memories, and he knew exactly which one this weather made her think of. He knew that uneasy expression on her face was because of what she had been through, and he would do anything he could to erase those memories and help her move forward.

"Come on, love." He murmured softly against the side of her head while he guided her out into the hall.

(Y/n) let her head fall onto Charles's shoulder and she wound her right arm around his torso to glue herself against him. It might be snowing outside, but being tucked up against him like this made her feel warmer than ever. And it started to melt the memories away just like the snow at the back door.

***

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) tilted her head back until her head was laid on Charles's shoulder. She twisted to press her forehead into his damp neck while she felt his hands grazing up and down her waist.

Her left hand moved down to hold onto his wrist while her right hand hovered just above the water where her finger was slowly swirling just beneath the surface. Creating ripples and waves stretching out towards the other side of the tub.

There wasn't a lot of space in the bath for both of them, but they managed without being squeezed too tightly together. Every now and then, (Y/n) moved her knees to nudge against Charles's knees.

She was sure he was smiling as he leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

Hopefully the rest of the team didn't notice that they had wandered off, or thought to come looking for them. They had drifted away from everyone else who had wandered around the mansion after beginning training. Erik was presumably still trying to help Alex with his aim. Raven would be training alone, she knew her limits and how to improve them. And Hank was coming up with some remedies in the makeshift lab.

Charles glanced his eyes down when he realised the water was starting to get warmer. He watched, fascination in his eyes as waves of steam drifted around them and some of the water started to evaporate as (Y/n)'s hand started to tremor.

She was trying to heat the water. She was testing herself.

"Okay, I think that's the limit."

When her hand began to shake and her fingers started to twitch, Charles carefully reached out and slipped his fingers into the grooves of her hand. He clasped her hand in his and moved to rest their hands on the side of the bath. The shaking stopped almost immediately and he could feel the extreme heat starting to fade from her hand.

His lips pressed against her temple and he stroked his thumb along the side of her hand.

"I thought the point of training was pushing past our limits?" Her voice was quiet as she slouched down against his chest and lifted her knees just out of the water.

"Finding limits and strengthening our mutations, not hurting yourself in the process."

(Y/n) nodded and carefully slid her hand from Charles's grip so she could turn it over and hold her palm out. She made sure to be careful when she created a few flickering flames in her palm. The closer she moved her palm to the water, the brighter she tried to make the flame.

She could feel Charles leaning down to attach his lips to the side of her neck while his left arm moved to secure around her waist. His thumb started to glide up and down her waist and he watched with intrigue and apprehension flooding his blue eyes.

He could feel the tension running through her body and the way her arm was shaking from her shoulder all the way down to her fingertips.

She got the back of her hand resting on top of the water as the flames stretched higher but began to flicker and tremor. She was starting to struggle. The water surrounding her hand started to bubble and steam boiled up around them.

(Y/n)'s head tilted to one side as she reached her free hand up and allowed droplets of water to sprinkle down onto her hand. She sank her teeth into her lip at the way the flames simmered and hissed and she could feel her hand twitching causing her body to shake with effort.

She closed her hand into a fist and dunked it into the water before Charles had the chance to tell her to stop. Water always complicated things. It extinguished every creation she tried to make, it made things harder and it hurt.

(Y/n) hated when she tried to use her powers and it began to rain. She almost set alight when that happened and it drained her to the point she wondered if she would ever be able to recreate any fire ever again.

"That was good." He murmured into her neck, each word resounding through her with shivers and trembles.

"Not really… my power can be extinguished."

"You have limitations."

"I don't want to be weak; limits are burdens," (Y/n) felt her feet scraping against the bottom of the tub and she pushed back into Charles so she didn't delve any deeper beneath the surface. She felt his arms tighten around her waist and he tucked his face down into her shoulder, nudging his damp nose against her skin.

"Think of them as boundaries, they keep us safe. There isn't one person out there who doesn't have limits."

A gasp tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips when she tumbled back into the snow. Tremors rattled through her body and she could feel the steam overwhelming her as the snow sank down like she was falling through the Earth as the blanket of snow simmered beneath her. It melted as if she were a knife slicing through butter until her back was laid on the ground and her clothes were soaking through with water.

She moved her hands down before she could think better of it and when her palms pressed into the water, she hissed.

The memory of yesterday in the bath with Charles vanished from her mind and she was brought back to reality as she started to shake.

Alex's aim was still far off. He almost hit her with his sonic beam mutation. If she hadn't of moved in time, she could have been split in half. Their mutations were similar, but Alex was a deadly weapon compared to the fire (Y/n) could create.

She shook her head and twisted round to push up to her feet, but she stumbled twice when her hands went straight through the snow.

"Alex, quit it!" She snapped when another beam hit the snow beside her, slicing through the snow with red waves that looked like blisters. The smoke his beams created was nothing compared to the steam radiating off of (Y/n) and when she tried to form a flame in her palm, she wanted to cry. Her skin felt like it was blistering. Her palm hurt like it had frost bite.

She pressed both palms down into the ground to try and get up off her knees, but when she looked down, a slither of dread crawled down her spine.

Oh no.

The pond.

The mansion had quite a few lakes and ponds on the grounds, all of which were frozen over and sheathed in snow with the winter weather upon them. Erik said it would be a good idea for them to practice outside in the elements, especially for (Y/n). The cold was her enemy and she had to try and see how far she could go in this weather.

They had moved too far. She had fallen on top of the frozen pond. She had to move quickly before she burned through the ice and went into the water.

"Sorry, sorry my aim is still shit, look I'll try again-"

"Alex don't-"

(Y/n) managed to get up to her feet and held her arms out beside her for balance but when she looked up, she shrieked. Her body jolted to the left and she fell with a large thud followed by a sinister crack that rocked the layer of ice beneath her. She landed harshly on her hip on the ice, both hands waving out to try and get herself onto her stomach so she could crawl back onto the snow-covered grass.

A screamed burst past her lips when she realised the ice was melting beneath her and before she got to the edge, her body suddenly jolted down.

The water was colder than anything (Y/n) had ever felt before.

It felt like she was a block of ice that had been dropped into a pit of hot coals. Their temperatures seemed to have swapped, she felt frozen to the bone and she felt like she was thawing out. She was melting. Steam was bubbling up around her and her lungs turned to ice when she was submerged beneath the surface and she couldn't breathe.

It was a good job her lungs had turned to ice, it stopped her from inhaling any water when they seized up and stopped working. It meant she wouldn't drown as quickly.

Her arms flailed around and when her head breached the surface, she tried to gasp for air but she could barely take in a proper breath.

Her legs flailed in the water, swishing and scraping at all angles while her nails clawed into the ice like picks digging in to secure herself to the edge.

The feeling of hands pinching into her arms made (Y/n) gasp and once her chest was on the ice again, she bashed her heels to get back onto safe ground. Alex tried his best to drag her but he couldn't do much when (Y/n) smacked him and clawed at him to let her go.

Her body scraped through the snow, leaving indents in her wake and a large trail as she scrambled over the frost covered grass and back onto the gravel path that was overtaken with ice and snow.

Every part of (Y/n) that could shake started to tremble and when she coughed and spluttered, it made her chest feel tighter.

She gave in and flopped onto her side like a fish out of water and curled her knees up towards her stomach while her arms bound to her chest. Her fingers flickered into her palms and back out again like a cigarette lighter trying to spark a flame. She continued to move her drenched hands that would have been overcome with ice by now, if it weren't for the natural heat she produced.

No flames sported in her palms, but her mutation worked enough to create sparks and she hurriedly shimmied her hands up and down her frame, trying to heat herself up.

Steam and water trickled around her as she tried to evaporate the water clinging to her body that felt like it had been given a re-start.

"Charles! I- I didn't… the pond- she fell in!" Words tumbled past Alex's lips as he pointed from Charles over to (Y/n). He knew she wouldn't let him get any closer to her, but she would let Charles help her.

The professor sprinted round the corner, his eyes scouring over every inch of the garden until he found the person he was looking for. The girl screaming out his name in her mind. He could barely comprehend anything but the sound of her mind's voice calling out to him. She sounded in peril; her voice flooded with terror.

His knees sank into the snow as he slammed down beside (Y/n), his eyes dragging up and down her dithering frame where a large puddle of water was forming beneath her. He watched for a few seconds as she dragged her hands up and down her body, trying her best to rid the water from her frame and dry herself out.

He reached down, trying his best to be tentative and careful as his hands cupped the sides of her face and tilted her head back so he could look down at her. He could hear her screaming a million other things in her mind, none of which he could make sense of.

Her nails scratched into his wrist when she clutched at his hands, clinging to him as 'cold' shivered past her lips.

'Don't leave me out here!' 'Please! Please let me in.' 'It hurts! I'm so, so cold.'

He could hear so many cries, so many pleas and whispers and screams, all from the same memory that was overtaking (Y/n)'s mind.

"Sweetheart… look at me. Love, stay with me." His jaw ground tight when her eyes rolled to the back of her head and the memory got louder.

Charles could feel the memory flashing before his eyes and replaying in his mind like a movie reel. She was slipping back into it; brought back by the cold and the pain and extreme weather that messed with her mutation.

He looped her trembling arms around his neck, tucking his face into her shoulder where he could feel her skin. She felt frozen yet somehow burning hot at the same time. Charles was so used to burying his nose in her neck and feeling the great warmth she radiated like he was kissing the flames of a fire. He wasn't used to feeling her skin with an inch of cold radiating through her like this.

His arm slid beneath her knees while his other arm curved around her back and he lifted her up into his chest. He turned on his heels and backtracked towards the nearest entrance to the mansion. He had to get her back in the warmth and out of the cold. The snow was going to make her a lot worse and Charles didn't want to find out if (Y/n) could become hypothermic or not.

He barged open the door with his shoulder, hurtling inside with (Y/n)'s trembling form in his arms. But every few seconds, he found himself wincing and snapping his eyes closed when her memory became too powerful.

Her face was tucked into his neck, her hands clutching at the back of his neck and her mind was so close and so, so loud that Charles couldn't help but slip into the memory with her. He clutched her tighter to his chest as he burst into the living room, desperate to set her down so he could try and push that memory out of her mind.

It was so cold.

(Y/n)'s arms flailed out, fighting off the hands pushing and prodding at her to get her to move faster. How could she go any faster when they hadn't let her put her shoes or socks on?

Her bare feet scuffed through the snow and the frost, creating puddles and a small stream of water in her wake. She scuffed through the snow, kicking and throwing it in all directions when she tried to turn, but the hands behind her wouldn't let her turn around and go back inside.

She didn't want to be out here. Why were they doing this? It wasn't fair.

The pyjamas she wore weren't enough to sustain in this cold weather. (Y/n) could withstand the cold. She would walk out in the briskest of winter nights and not feel a thing, as long as it wasn't snowing. Water dampened fire. Cold elements seeped into (Y/n)'s bones and dulled her mutation which therefore dulled her core temperature.

"No- no I-"

"You have to stay out here."

"Why?" Her pitiful voice travelled through the dark night sky and she looked over her shoulder just as her father gave her a rough push, landing her in a lump of snow that evaporated instantly.

Steam swirled through her nostrils and her arms hit the concrete beneath her with a thud that made her cry out. She hated the water that soaked into her clothes and the snow that began to melt around her.

She watched the way her father took a few rapid steps away from her and how her mother had already rushed back inside.

"Because you're dangerous. Once that fire within you is snuffed out and you're no longer one of them, then you can come back inside."

The snide tone in his words betrayed the sympathetic expression on his face. He hated it. He hated the mutation his daughter had, and the fact that she was one of the increasingly apparant mutants appearing in their society. He didn't want to have one of them in his family, and certainly not one with such a dark and dangerous power that had the ability to ruin them all.

It was snowing.

What better way to get rid of the fire within his daughter than to wither it away with the cold?

(Y/n) tried to get up. She slipped, skidded and stumbled back onto numb feet that soaked into the snow as she tried to hurry after her father back towards their home. She wanted to be inside. She had to stay warm. Staying out here in the snow was painful. It was already beginning to lick at her skin and reduce her heat.

"Dad, please-"

A horrid scream passed her lips when a bucket of water- with large shards of ice mixed in- was tossed onto her. The force sent her tumbling onto her back and steam smoked around her in large tendrils as if she had set on fire. Choked breaths of condensed air left her lips and she felt like she had frozen into the ground like cement as the ice melted and evaporated onto her.

She couldn't move. Her body was completely overtaken with the cold. Her hands shook and when she tried to illicit flames into her palms, nothing but a tortured scream prevailed. It hurt.

It hurt so much she thought someone had sliced through her palms right down to her nerves. The flames wouldn't appear. Her body wouldn't heat up.

The door slammed shut along with the lock. She couldn't get up to try and open it. She had no strength to knock it down and without her powers, she wouldn't be able to melt the lock and get back inside.

Would her powers really be snuffed out if she stayed in the cold for long enough? Out here, bare foot, wearing only her pyjama top and shorts, laid in the snow like she had already died and been cast out for the elements to take care of. Would her mutation disappear if she stayed out here?

Would that be for the best, if she lost her mutation? What good could it do, anyway? Fire burned. Fire demolished and attached and cremated and killed. The only good it did was to provide heat in times like this, but (Y/n) couldn't even provide herself with heat in this moment.

"Don't leave me out here!" Her voice became a croaky wail as she tried her best to sit up in the snow and move forward.

"Please! Please let me in." She needed to be inside, surely her mother couldn't hear her cries and let her stay out in the below zero temperatures like this?

"It hurts! I'm so, so cold."

She wanted to be inside. She wanted to go back into the warmth and be with her family. She had never hurt any of them, she never used her mutation for bad reasons or did any damage with her fire. Only when she first learned of her mutation did she cause damage, and that had never been on purpose.

She didn't want to be snuffed out like a flame.

"Sweetheart? It's okay, you're okay. That's it, open those eyes for me."

A shriek tore past (Y/n)'s lips and her body jolted forward when that tender voice reached her ears. Her eyes looked around, unsure where she was or what was happening until she registered that familiar touch.

Those soft hands cupping her face. Those thumbs tracing over her cheekbones and brushing beneath her eyes. Those ocean blue eyes piercing into hers like she was the only gem in the world worth admiring. That flash of a ruby red smile that showed his pearly whites as he breathed in relief.

She wasn't cold anymore. The trembling had stopped. She wasn't laid out in the snow, begging to be let back inside. No one had left her outside, waiting for her mutation to reverse itself or for her to die, whichever happened first.

"You're inside, in the warmth. You're not cold anymore." Charles's voice sounded like butter melting in her ears as she took in what he was saying.

The look in his eyes told (Y/n) he had witnessed the memory that overcame her when she was outside with Alex. He had seen why she hated the snow so much. Charles always knew something bad had happened, and he had seen bits and pieces during the bad nights when the memories overtook her. But he never knew who left her outside, for how long, or what had truly happened.

Well, never again. That was never going to happen again. Charles would make sure of it.

His hand slipped round from cradling the side of her face to cup the back of her neck and he leaned forward, pulling (Y/n) up so she was buried into his chest. His lips smothered the side of her temple and his other arm looped around her waist, keeping her as close to him as he could.

He felt the way her hands clutched at his back and the trembling had finally stopped. She was warm again. She wasn't in danger of becoming hypothermic. And Charles wouldn't let anyone harm her like that again.

[biracy]

Here are the thoughts btw (trying to be as spoiler-free as possible but no promises):

Jesse's season 1 and season 2 outfits (which are primarily characterized by big puffy patterned jackets, big baggy pants, t-shirts with like idk a skull or a Jack-o-lantern or some shit like that on it, and surprisingly coordinated beanies) are EXTREMELY distinctive in the same way that his season 1 bouncing car is. There's a lot you can analyze about why he dresses this way, but I think the most significant read is that he's trying to make himself look bigger, both literally physically bigger with the baggy clothes, and more successful, "cooler", yknow. It's representative of that pre-rehab insecurity and honestly immaturity that characterize Jesse in these seasons. Right after he goes to rehab, he dresses very plainly (plain, single-color shirts, straight-cut jeans, no hats, he even completely shaves his face for a little bit which is weird to look at), which is a very sharp shift that's instantly noticeable and doesn't feel quite right. Mid-season 3 and into season 4, though, there's a shift back towards the season 1/2 style, but in a much subtler way. He clearly has a defined sense of personal style (there are still skulls and rhinestones and band logos and embroidered jackets and shit), but in a way that feels more mature and, most significantly, less conspicuous. It's "distinctive", easily, I can still point out a shirt at the mall and tell my brothers it's "a Jesse shirt", but it's not as Big and Showy as the season 1/2 outfits, just like how he replaces his s1 bouncing Monte Carlo with that Toyota Tercel. It's not JUST that Jesse's kind of maturing and growing into himself and adjusting his mindset to the realities of his new life experiences, but also that he's becoming less distinctive and noticeable to keep his career under wraps and, ostensibly, himself safe. There's a scene somewhere in season 3 where he tries to sell meth to the clerk at a gas station, and later, she's unable to really identify him to Hank (he's white, he has light brown hair, he has blue eyes, yeah yeah yeah, dreamy). Season 1 Jesse could've NEVER gotten away with that, he has too memorable of a look. It's a cool character development thing that I really like. Also just LOOK at some of those t-shirts they're objectively extremely cool

I actually have a lot of Media Analysis Smartboy Thoughts about the costumes in BrBa, particularly the shifts in how certain characters dress as the show progresses, ESPECIALLY how Jesse starts dressing in like season 3, but also I cannot talk about it in a way that doesn't begin and end with "this t-shirt rips and I want it"

[voidwolf6277]

Hey everyone! I’m Phantom or Void; either one works. I’m 22, so I only roleplay with other adults. I’m fine with any pronouns, but mostly use she/they. I’m in the EST but tend to stay up late. I’m poc and queer, and most of my ocs are as well.

I do both fandom and original roleplays. I like to do oc x cc and oc x oc pairings and prefer to double when it comes to oc x cc. I’m also cool with poly/multi-ships and crossovers.

I guess I’m a semi-lit to lit writer; I don’t really have a set number of words I write. I try to match the amount of whoever I’m rping with, but I guess, on average, I can write 1-3 paragraphs. Novella is currently a bit much for me, though. I don’t really mind how much you write; just give me something to work with. I'm fine with doing NSFW rps.

Depending on how I'm feeling, I can send multiple replies in a day, but again, that heavily depends on how I feel.

My fandoms and love interests are below the cut.

My Hero Academia - I'm about to start season 7. I do know the spoilers and how the series ends. I still need to watch the movies

Katsuki Bakugou

Touya Todoroki/Dabi

Tomura Shigaraki

Shoto Todoroki

Keigo/Hawks

Shota Aizawa

Rumi Usagiyama/Mirko

Bungou Stray Dogs - I'm up to season 4, I know some spoilers.

Dazai

Chuuya

Dungeon Meshi - I finished the anime and manga.

Laios

Toshiro

Mithrun

Lycion

Kabru

Marcille

Fullmetal Alchemist - I've watched both series.

Envy

Roy Mustang

Greed

Edward

One Punch Man - I'm caught up on the anime, currently watching through the extras and reading the manga.

Genos

Speed - o - sound sonic

Garou

Demon Slayer - I just finished the Entertainment District arc.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Giyuu Tomioka

Tengen Uzui

Obani Iguro

Jujutsu Kaisen - I'm caught up with the anime and currently reading the culling game arc.

Gojo

Toji

Choso

Geto

Sukuna

Nanami

Megumi

Creepypasta - I'm familiar with most of the creepypastas

Jeff the killer

Homicidal Lui

Eyeless Jack

Ticci Toby

Jane the killer

Pokemon - I've played from black and white to Legends Arceus. I'm still playing through Violet. I've also played all the mystery dungeon games.

Venture Bros - I finished the series and movie.

Pete White

Dean Venture

Hank Venture

Henchman 21/Gary

The Monarch and Councilwoman, Dr. Mrs. The Monarch (I can only see these two as a package deal)

Here's my full fandom list - https://docs.google.com/document/d/14E7TN0xgjlDGjUaoB6aX3OT5_CN2i_5LF0cMjC6yJKs/edit?usp=sharing

[heliphantie]

"Inside Out 2"

I've watched “Inside Out 2”, and there’s my notes:

Conflict expands on themes of first movie, and if the moral of first was, difficult and discomfortable emotions and memories are as important for personal growth as positive ones, here it is about not giving away basic emotions and good memories even while growing and building personality and ambitions. I’d say conflict of IO was executed in better organized form and it was easier to follow as it unrolled, but it’s a general flaw of sequels. It wasn’t so bad.

Interestingly, antagonist is motivated by striving for better future, which mainstream media usually reserves for protagonist. As someone who is critical to “destroy the past, build future on the ruins of it” philosophy pushed by media as role model, I can say I welcome this twist in formula. Pixar in general seems to handle “Well-Intentioned Extremist” trope decently, be it antagonists or antiheroes. Even characters who could be villainous in regular media defied expectations. (I honestly expected Val ending to be “bad influence”, in typical fashion for “cool kids” trope, but she’s ended to be sympathetic character throughout the movie and not the source of conflict.)

Main 5 kept (mostly) together for the length of movie gives room for interactions and dynamics that were limited in first one. Breakout star, unexpectedly for me, is Anger, he had the funniest scenes. I generally like the characters like that (Grumpy the dwarf, octopus Hank, Gabo in Wish… you got idea), but can’t say he was enjoyable to this extent in first movie. Maybe he just better works as foil for someone with opposite personality, rather than with somebody like Disgust and Fear.

Speaking about antagonists, I felt there was potential in Envy, even guessed if she ends to be twist villain before the first trailer. In the end, new emotions somehow turned less interesting personality-wise compared to old ones. There are still opportunities for the franchise unfolding, so likely their spotlights are in due course.

References/memetic moments in regard to first movie are scarce, but ones that happen are fairly unexpected (like cameo of certain brick joke), and don’t linger too long. There is also some shipteasing sprinkled over (but not too overt), which wasn’t a thing in original. (Mount Crashmore was a biggest surprise, by the way.)

One thing carried on from IO is, fairly hilarious one scene wonders, my favorite is one that wasn’t spoilered by promos, you know which if you have seen it) Worthy successor of Brazilian helicopter pilot. (I feel fans are going to have a field day with them…)

Another unexpected moment is the scene that seems to be an explicit dig at industry of which the movie is a product. Animators that rebel when main five encourage them to let imagination run free as opposed to following demands of Anxiety who’s obsessed with sticking to trends in pursuit of success. One can wonder what it was about…

Conclusion: enjoyable movie, which doesn’t even seem forced, as it happens so often with sequels. It even appears to left open for further expansion, and I smell mini-series, maybe? It’s a good concept to be mined, frankly.

Oh, and I’ve got idea I couldn’t wait to work on so I didn’t wait for the movie to get released and started it in advance and almost done with. So… does it count as fanart if it doesn’t involve the setting and characters of thing, but deals with central concept of it? Anyway, soon.

[mcmusing]

Unlike ALL of their sequels, I'm not anti First Class. However, as more time passes, it's beyond clear that being the best X-Men movie truly isn't saying much. These flicks almost always fumble the ball in making mutants sympathetic, but following the CIA massacre, a severe lack of logic plagues characterization, especially regarding Raven and Erik. More on them momentarily.

While the massacre is a nicely filmed scene, its aftermath is handled terribly. To a jarring degree, considering the realistic emotions during it. Remember that in 1962, Pearl Harbor would be as fresh in many people's memories as 9/11 is to us now. An attack on an entire CIA facility to that magnitude would be another day of infamy. An executive order would have been issued to track and lock down mutants all over the country, complete with anti-mutant riots in the street. The really sad part is that because of how mercilessly ruthless the hellfire club was, there would be more arguments to justify the backlash than oppose it. Is it any wonder those different military forces attempted to bomb that beach?

Also regarding Shaw's band, how can anyone watch such overpowered beings needlessly stab, shoot, and burn all of those defenseless people and feel even an ounce of pity for mutants? Shaw's grandiose speech about how they will all eventually be captured and enslaved is utterly laughable, especially coming from him. This version of Shaw has powers so overblown that he could have single-handedly taken down the nazi regime, liberated those camps, and given mutation a heroic image. But no, somehow donning a swastika, torturing a mutant child, and trying to nuke the planet seemed like the superior strategies. It's exactly the same with Erik and those missiles. If he had simply seized and hurled them far away into the water, he would have proven that mutation itself is not the enemy. He and Surrogate Nazi Daddy both started something then wanted to play victim when their self-made enemies retaliated.

On the subject of Shaw Jr., it is reasonable that Erik would be wary of the CIA possibly having ulterior motives and hooking Charles up to random machines. However, with the massacre on top of learning that both he and Shaw are mutants, why isn't Erik disgusted with his very existence? Why does he automatically take a prideful stance? His powers are what got him on Shaw's radar in the first place, Shaw killed his very human mother, Erik turned out to be mutated like his tormentor, and said tormentor led a gang of other mutants in a murder spree against dozens of people who only wanted to capture Shaw, including the agent who housed and advocated for them. HOW does any of that add up to being anti-homo sapien, let alone pro-mutant? This is why Erik's longtime nemesis had absolutely NO business being a mutant! If anything, he should have been a regular human who wanted to exploit and recreate mutant powers in himself out of envy.

Onto Raven, her kitchen conversation with Charles already made no sense with that asinine "pets are always cuter when they're little, right?" remark. You're making that accusation towards someone who introduces you as his sister after a guy you hardly know just compared you to a tiger and encouraged you to walk around naked like some undignified lesser being? However, what really piles on the stupid is when she claims "no matter how bad the world gets, you don't want to be against it, do you?" WHAT is this bad of which she speaks? The worst deed she personally witnessed was committed by mutants, something that openly horrified her. What, is she referring to those two agents who mildly teased them a little? The one desperate agent who offered up the young mutants only after watching the cruel murders of his colleagues? Or is the bad all the people who Hank- another mutant- pointed out will never find her blue form beautiful? Something no one is required to feel towards her and something most would be unable to do due to biological evolutionary reasons that govern the laws of attraction. Absolutely nothing justifies her turn to Team Terrorism.

In trying to make Charles out to be this franchise's 'uncle Tom' of sorts, all they ended up doing was making Erik and Raven into glory-seeking, narcissistic, nonsensical, opportunistic, narrow-minded bigots.

[cosmica-galaxy]

How would skinner,jebus, auditor and tough react to coming into the real world everything looks absolutely beautiful minus the fact player is trying to deal with cookies that had burst into flames which they panic?

Skinner: The funniest thing about Skinner walking amongst the world in the Player's domain...is the fact that everything was SMALL in their world. Chairs, sofas, doorways, fixtures, and utensils were simply too small for poor Skinner to use effectively. He breaks chairs, snaps off doorknobs, and bends silverware. Despite not doing the actions intentionally, Skinner always feels bad about breaking his precious Player's things and will usually isolates himself outside while he visits to minimize any damage. It's not like it's a bad thing. Skinner would have to admit that the Player's world was...stunning. Beautiful, even! The sun was warm, the grass felt nice trailing through his gloved fingers, and the sounds of nature all around him was almost relaxing. But the sound of a flurry of panicked cries coming from in the house was enough to snap him out of it and send him rushing back inside (and breaking another doorknob) and he sees his Player struggling with a tray of very hot cookies...that were currently blazing. Among the chaos of the smoke alarm and the confused yelling of both parties, the cookies were eventually extinguished and his Player got away with only a few burns. (It still shocked him how you could now be brought to harm) Good thing he's a doctor! He'll patch you up and make sure that your pain is gone and the risk of infection is reduced to 20%! Jeb:

Jeb always finds his visits to the Player's domain calm and peaceful. The sound of the wind blowing through the healthy trees, the warming sun rays that kept his back warm, and the sound of singing birds radiating through the surrounding woods makes him take a deep breath and sigh in bliss. Oh, how he wished that Nevada was just as peaceful as the Player's world. He had to admit...he was envious of such a peaceful universe. Jeb was fighting for a world like this back in Nevada as hard as he could. He was constantly giving it his all and every time, some bastard--named HANK--kept doing actions that did nothing but plunge Nevada further into chaos. The madness had all but consumed the world of Nevada and Jeb could only clench his teeth at the bitter reminder of why his world was like the way it was. But the Player's? It was the opposite...and he envied it. Even when he sits out here under a tree in the shade, he still finds himself thinking about his mission...could he ever relax? Apparently not, as the sound of his Player screeching from within their home made him shoot up from his resting place faster than anything. He wasted no time in hurrying into the house to find the kitchen full of smoke and his Player coughing loudly and holding a tray of flaming baked goods. Using his telekinesis, Jeb yanks the tray from the Player's hands and tosses it into the sink before running the water, extinguishing the fire. he begins to inspect his Player, finding burns littering their hands as he works them over. He can only sigh in relief and use the halo to help heal the Player. At least he can protect the only one in his life that means anything to him... Auditor: The Auditor is not used to such a state. Nevada USED to look like the Player's world before a certain MERCENARY decided to meddle in the natural order of things and dissented from the norm of Nevada. The sun hurt his red eyes, the colors were so bright and vivid, and the world just seemed so...alive in comparison to Nevada. He was...envious, to a degree. This world just seemed so perfect and peaceful...as if everything was simply in order. Not a single thing out of place. The Auditor stands on the porch as he watches the long grass sway in the nearby meadow and the small robins fly near the treetops. The Player's world was merely shown in photos that he had taken, but seeing them in reality simply didn't do the photos any justice. Seeing the world with his own two eyes almost made him consider retaking the photos to see if they were even producing the pictures right. Or maybe it had something to do with what the Player had said about how "Nevada was set in the early 2000's", whatever that meant. But seeing the state of technology that the world had to offer, the Auditor could only see benefits and assets everywhere he looked. This world was a gift that the Player allowed him the privilege to traverse, and he couldn't be anymore grateful. Suddenly, the sound of the fire alarm in the kitchen alerts the Auditor to the situation going down inside the house as the Player in question pulls a flaming tray of cookies out of the oven with panicked curses. The Auditor wastes no time in teleporting into the kitchen and snatches the tray of cookies from the Player's hands and tossing it into the kitchen sink. The Auditor, as ever vigilant and worried of the Player's health, looks them over, he finds burns lining their arms. He tugs them along to go get first aid and would not take any excuse as an answer. He was here now and nothing would bring you to harm. He would not allow it.

[rynnthefangirl]

My Top 10 Favorite Breaking Bad Universe Episodes (+ explanations/analyses because I can't not gush about these shows dammit)

"Face Off" (BrBa, S4E13)- this episode had me on the edge of my seat like no other one in the entire BrBa universe. It's not my favorite in terms of themes or character development-- which are my usual priorities in a show-- but good god, it was an EXPERIENCE. And it held up SO GOOD on rewatch, even knowing how it ends the pacing and buildup is done so phenomenally that it almost feels like watching it for the first time. It's just epic. And that final scene... coming off the thrill of watching an evil villain like Gus Fring be defeated... relishing in Walt's victory and relief... then the camera slowly tracking inward to reveal the Lily of the Valley.... that sudden shift as you realize the guy you were just aggressively rooting for is a monster as well... Oh my god. Perfection.

"Ozymandias" (BrBa, S5E14)- do I even need to explain why I love this episode? It's often regarded as the best episode in this universe, and for good reason. It is Walter White's downfall, the epic culmination of 4 1/2 seasons of steady moral degradation, the consequences of Walter's greed and ego finally brought to horrific fruition. This is one of only two episodes in the BrBa universe to actually make me cry (the other being "Granite State", when Walt Jr. tells his father he should just go and die). Hank's death is abrupt and horrible. "I watched Jane die" makes ME want to go die. Walt's fight with Skyler is both devastating and somehow cathartic. The acting is some of the best I have seen in my entire life. It truly is the peak of Breaking Bad, and there will never be anything else quite like it (although my #3 comes close).

"Plan and Execution" (BCS, S6E7)- this episode is so effective, that I could barely even stand to rewatch it. And not just Howard's death, but everything building up to it. Watching Howard suffer and be humiliated, knowing all the while that this is his last day on Earth. That this is how he is spending his final hours. And the fact that the whole thing has the fun and whacky tone of the other McWexler scams makes me want to throw up. Watching an oblivious Jimmy and Kim dig both Howard's and their own graves with joy and gusto. The inevitability of it all too, how every little detail conspires to put Howard and Lalo in that room together. I never thought a cockroach scampering across a screen could make me want to scream, but here we are. It's honestly unbearable. And then of course the final scene is breathtakingly brilliant. Howard's amazing speech, the sudden tonal shift, the horror of his death. The candle. And this all barely even touches on what it means for Jimmy and Kim's characters, but this is getting long enough, so lets just leave it at P&E is their very own Ozymandias.

"Chicanery" (BCS, S3E5)- I love how perfectly rated Chicanery is in the fandom. I feel like an episode like this would be prone to being totally overshadowed by the more action-packed ones, and I'm so glad that it isn't. Because it is brilliant. To me, Chuck and Jimmy's relationship is the single most compelling dynamic in the BrBa universe. And this is their ultimate showdown, both giving their all to take the other down, Chuck with righteous glee and Jimmy with bitter reluctance. Chuck's final breakdown/monologue is incredible both in terms of writing and acting-- this is the moment we see Chuck McGill for who he really is. Years of bitterness, and jealousy, and frustration, and desperation, finally let loose. And while Jimmy won, it's not a triumphant victory. It's a somber one. Because like Kim said, all they did was tear down a mentally ill man. A man who needed help, beneath all the hatred and envy. Aghh. Chuck.

"Felina" (BrBa, S5E16)- I love the vibe of Felina. There's just this palpaple tiredness and resigned acceptance from Walter. He destroyed his family, they will never forgive him, he is going to die alone. He has realized his ego and selfishness, but it's too late. Everyone is just sitting in the ashes of the world they once knew. And yet, with that acceptance, there also comes a sense of peace. Nothing left to do but make things right in whatever way he still can. Finding a way to get his money to his family, admitting to Skyler that "I did it for me", seeing Holly and Jr. one last time, avenging Hank's death. Then there's Jesse and his resolution, "do it yourself", him crying and screaming and laughing as he drives away, a well earned freedom. The final shot of Walt is bittersweet in the best possible way. A conclusion worthy of the phenomenal series that came before it (rip GOT but BrBa is different).

"Waterworks" (BCS, S6E12)- where Saul Gone is the resolution of Jimmy's arc, Waterworks is the resolution of Kim's. And I think Kim's ending hits me harder, because while we always knew that Jimmy would break bad, Kim's corruption felt like such a betrayal. And it made it all the more sweeter when she redeems herself and begins to come back from that dark place she was in. The Florida scenes were utterly unnerving in how empty Kim was, but then it was so cathartic to see her finally let all that emotion out (and Rhea Seehorn absolutely KILLED IT, she was ROBBED at the Emmy's). Her scene with Jesse was beautiful too, and a perfect example of how to do fan-service in a meaningful way. Also, as a devoted Howard Hamlin stan, I loved seeing him haunt the narrative and watching Cheryl stand up for him again.

"Saul Gone" (BCS, S6E13)- another excellent and worthy conclusion to an amazing show! Jimmy is one of my favorite characters, and like with Kim, it was so beautiful to see him find himself again. I'm very fascinated by Jimmy's coping mechanisms for his grief & guilt, and this episode is where we see them finally be torn down. The whole confession scene is wonderful, A+ writing and acting. Particularly him finally saying out loud that his actions led to Chuck's suicide -- that knowledge has controlled Jimmy for the past three seasons, and him facing it at last is the final nail in the coffin for Saul Goodman. Saul is Gone, and Jimmy McGill remains. I love it.

"Lantern" (BCS S3E10)- this one killed me on rewatch. Watching Chuck completely unravel and destroy his home after he was finally on the road to recovery from his mental illness. Howard and Chuck's falling out, with Howard's pain in having to force Chuck out of HHM and Chuck's pain in losing the last good relationship that he still had in his life. "You've never mattered all that much to me."🫠💔 Chuck's suicide, and knowing how it will haunt the narrative, how it will lead to Howard's destruction in P&E and Jimmy's transformation into Saul Goodman. Daggers. The whole episode - Daggers.

"Fly" (BrBa S3E10)- I am so so glad this episode exists. It wasn't necessary towards the plot at all, but it's such a wonderful little character study. The first half is comedic gold, some of my favorite whacky Walt + Jesse banter. Then the slow shift to the more somber and pensive tone as the sleeping pills set in. Everything is just dripping with importance and symbolism. Especially "it's all contaminated" -- one of my favorite lines in the whole show. And Walt’s speech about the perfect moment for him to have died... I don't even know the word for what that evokes in me. "Beautiful" doesn't cut it. It's ethereal.

"Peekaboo" (BrBa S2E6)- if I wanted to show someone why I love Jesse Pinkman and could only pick one episode to do it, Peekaboo would be that episode. It so perfectly encapsulates his character. Jesse goes to a house to threaten and get money from two junkies, and spends the entire episode trying to look after their neglected child. His conscience and decency at constant odds with the necessity of appearing strong and dangerous. And this is reinforced by the episode's bookends - Jesse delights in a small bug before Skinny P comes along and squishes it, foreshadowing the horror of Spooge getting his head squashed. Jesse is a sensitive soul scrambling for control in a world of the blackest violence. I'm so glad it never was able to fully consume him.

Honorable mentions:

"Point and Shoot" (BCS S6E8) and "Fun and Games" (BCS S6E9)- I feel so bad leaving both of these out of the top 10, because they are such phenomenal episodes. But I feel like my favorite moments are scattered across them and "Plan and Execution", and it's really the triad of episodes that makes up one of my favorite arcs in either show. So as individual episodes they don't quite outrank the others I have, but in spirit they are definitely up there sharing the #3 spot with P&E.

"Better Call Saul" (BrBa S2E8) and "4 Days Out" (BrBa S2E9)- I have to give a shoutout to two of my favorite chaotic and hilarious Breaking Bad episodes. Walt and Jesse's dynamic is so perfect in 4 Days Out, and Saul absolutely killed his introduction to this universe (+ the additional heartbreak of rewatching knowing why he was so freaked out about Lalo).

[positivelybeastly]

Obrumpent: breaking; bursting

It was, in its way, inevitable.

No-one died on Krakoa. Not for long, not for ever. Not for anyone did the resurrection queue stop its endless churn.

He'd been pushed back, of course. On account of his indiscretions. That was the euphemism that had been used, since everything he'd done - and oh, that did mean everything - was with at least the tacit approval of the Council. It was a nice, tidy little word, the broom that elegantly swept the mounds of shit into a dustpan to be ignored.

But that was the problem with sweeping things away to be ignored, with the concept of a queue, of pushing back and not simply removing. Eventually, especially on an island of forever, the problem came home to roost.

And so it was that Henry Philip McCoy was, eventually, reborn.

The diseased mind of the Director of X-Force was long expunged, of course. The gross little grey cells that had formulated uses for Logan's body that not even the Weapon X program could conceptualise were gone, surely ignored even by the worms and the bacteria because it would make them sick. Left to rot in the morning, afternoon, and evening sun.

The McCoy that came back was a young thing, barely 22. Fit, strapping, handsome - in his way, the most beautiful he'd ever been. Light caught him in just the right way, every way, every time. It had caught them all off guard when the shell had cracked and there he was - they had forgotten, just, completely forgotten, yes, that was what he'd been. Who he'd been.

He was so . . . soft.

It had taken them a good long while to acclimatise him, to get him to settle down, to get him to simply be calm. He was skittish and unsure of himself, full of propulsive energy and yet completely without direction. He was a genius who didn't know anything, what could be a more frightening prospect? He was naive, helpless, innocent.

So there he stood, on the edge of the island, throwing stones across the water, trying to work it all out, trying to puzzle out just who he was.

And then, along, had come, Logan.

He'd simply sat and watched for a time. Taking in this cute little blast from the past. Taking in the warm, royal blue fur, the twinkle in his eyes. The body that was unmarked, untouched. Pristine. Clean. Soft. He was so soft.

Something inside of him snapped at that, and he'd broken his stealth. Walked right up. Pointed ears twitched, and baby blue eyes turned to take him in.

Fucker didn't even know him, really. Oh, sure, he recognised him, but know? No. No, this cute little thing didn't know him.

"Hullo there! Wolverine, isn't it? You know, I don't think we've properly met - except for Jeannie's funeral, but, well, that's hardly a social occasion, and besides, I think I have to look back on that very differently now, given everything that's hap - "

His eye bursts first. Logan's adamantium bones make sure of that. It's messy. It's rough. He falls like a wounded gazelle, a whimper of pain leaving him that should tear at Logan's soul, but oh he's too damned angry, he's way too damned fucking mad at this little bouncy scientist fuck, he couldn't care less that he's snotting and crying and crawling on his back away from him. Hank's never known a pain like this, a brutality like this.

He doesn't like to fight. Ain't that funny.

He works him over with the kind of cruelty that transcends hatred, the kind of cruelty that can only be born out of love betrayed and envy left to stew. Bones break. Lungs lacerate. Behind him, he's vaguely aware of the rest of X-Force standing by. Watching.

They don't participate. Not even Omega Red. Definitely not Colossus. But they do watch. They watch every time as Logan beats the poor little cute thing to death, his soft, squishy little body beaten and cut and abused until it's meat. Barely breathing meat.

Meat he kicks off the island into the water. Meat he watches drown. Meat he watches bob away into the distance.

Everyone knows exactly where Hank McCoy's gone the next day. No-one says anything. Down he gets pushed, all along the resurrection queue. It's getting shorter and shorter these days. Before long, he'll be back the next day.

He'll be back. Just as soft as before. Just as sweet to watch break and burst.

[gravedigest]

Thinking about Victor, and how he has rig and chrome envy. And how he can ask San and Dei about it (and technically other people but they’re not relevant rn). And just the lack of information he gets from it all

San has chrome but no rig, and it’s a chrome he has to keep shape for. He also has no desire for a rig. Meanwhile, Dei has both but can’t give a comparison since he’s never had anything else, plus he know how to mess with himself, how to hack himself to make it better.

And Victor can only get so much info out of both. Again, he can ask other people, I just find it interesting that he can ask those two but get almost nothing out it. It’s interesting to me. Vic is interesting

Also just, Dei is the spice in Vic’s life. That’s a little thing in the back skittering about

Victor asks Hank what chrome is like and all he gets is a blank stare because Hank doesn’t know what chrome is like. Man that has a computer just to use the calendar.

They can probably get the complaints about chrome across pretty easily, like it’s easy to put into words stuff like “Yeah, my arm acts up if i twist it like this, I gotta yank it this way so my fingers uncurl,” or “There’s so many popups happening right now it feels like my eyeballs are turning inside out.”

But like, trying to explain what it looks like or feels like would be like trying to explain a sense someone doesn’t have, like if someone can’t smell but all you have to describe scents are other scents. You can sorta get it across like this smells warm or this smells cold, but thats kind of the only comparison you can get (unless you’ve got synesthesia, then theres a whole new world of comparisons you can make to stuff)

It’s neat.

I wanna write more Victor POV later on when I get the next part out, I think. Just kinda hard cause I’m tryna build him a solid foundation to work off of irt characterization and what very little we know about him, and he’s sort of easier to work with as non POV.

Victor gets his enrichment by watching Deimos be a weird little guy. Watching your cat watching tv and being like “what is he thinking?”

[izzythehutt]

I went into BCS knowing that Chuck was an extremely disliked character, so maybe I just had high expectations for him being BEYOND THE PALE horrible but actually watching the show I....really don't get the hate.

A swath of the fandom seems to think he's Walter White-tier bad, and it just leaves me scratching my head. Arrogant, fragile, wounded, a jerk? Yes. A narcissistic sociopath who never loved his brother? Wtf, he's definitely not.

In my mind his narrative function is sort of comparable to Hank's in BrBa. Personally flawed, motivated to take down their respective targets by bruised ego and hurt at betrayal, but also deeply committed to an impartial moral code that refuses to budge, even for a family member. Both characters pay the ultimate price for this.

Every jerkish thing Chuck does has a sympathetic and understandable motive.

How is not wanting your ex-conman brother to work as a lawyer at your firm but being too much of a coward to admit it to his face so you shove off the job on your poor partner "abuse"???

Even his supposed "worst crime" of not telling Jimmy their mother called out his name before she died strikes me as a muddy, gray act, not outright vindictive. It was obviously motivated by complex brotherly feelings of resentment and envy, but you could just as easily read it as Chuck protecting Jimmy and sparing his feelings. What is knowing that the last thing their mother did was cry out for her son who had left the room to grab a sandwich actually going to do for him? Probably just make him feel guilty he wasn't there. We have no indication that Jimmy felt unloved by Ma McGill. Did he really need to know that he was the last thing on her mind before she died? Maybe, maybe not. Frankly, I could see him knowing that making him feel bad for Chuck.

The McGill brothers have a complex, tragic, almost biblical relationship of mutual love and hate, and I feel sorry for all the other people who got caught between them (Ernie, Howard and Kim), but everything negative went both ways and is mutually reinforcing.

In some ways I think my feelings about this are similar to my feelings about Jesse's relationship with his parents. It's tragic that he felt rejected by them and that made him susceptible to looking at Walt as a replacement father figure, but the Pinkmans had completely understandable reasons for distrusting their son and having clear boundaries with him, and everything messed up Jesse did for Walt is not actually their fault. Such is the complexity of life. People are not morally culpable for everything bad that happens as a direct/indirect result of what they do.

To me, what it comes down to with Chuck—it's possible for him to want his brother disbarred for petty personal reasons while simultaneously believing that it's his moral obligation to not give his brother a pass for committing a felony. He can be a jealous prick who also unironically believes that justice is blind. These two things can exist simultaneously.

[voxxgrimly]

The Impression That I Get (Ch. 1)

CHAPTER 1

One Headlight

Monday, November 21st, 2005 (10:30 AM)

“Come up for Christmas, Henry.”

Calloused fingers pinched the bridge of his nose— dislodging his rectangular glasses. Eyes closed, he leaned back; broad shoulders met the backrest of his leather office chair with a dull ‘poff’. “Were wishes fishes, Charles.” The baritone of Henry McCoy, Secretary of Mutant Affairs, rumbled over a shiny cellphone set to speaker. “With the encroachment of Registration perceptually looming in the senate…?” The large, blue mutant huffed a rueful breath and set his lips into a firm line before deigning to speaking again. “I would prefer the Bahamas. Perchance Cuba?”

That was just being cruel.

“I apologize, Charles.” Hank groaned, then leaned forward onto his cherry wood desk elbows first.

His old friend’s voice hummed over the speaker; cultivated and longanimous– patient. Sometimes Hank envied him his wisdom; his telepathic cosmos. And then he reminded himself that his anxiety would never stand for it.

“The students would be elated to see you, Hank. Your colleagues too. I would be.”

Damn the man for knowing every emotional string to towboat straight into his own favour. Hank tossed up a clawed hand. Charles couldn’t see it, he knew, but he assumed that his tone reflected his emotional state adequately regardless. “Fine! As you like it! Officious, antiquated–” Nearly at a loss for words, he audibly snapped his fangs shut. A growl bullied its way up from his barrel chest.

“Now, now. Don’t be like that, Henry.” He could hear the laughter in the professor’s voice; almost see the way his eyes sparkled. “When can we expect your arrival?”

“Don’t assume you’ve won just yet! It won’t be conceivable for me to exonerate myself from my obligations for at least a week. My secretary, Eleanor, would taxidermy me. She’s already threatening to convert my pelt into a rug.” Hank digressed swiftly; “Next Saturday at the earliest. Does this convenience you, Professor Xavier? Oh, dear friend of mine?”

“Very!” Now Charles’s giddiness was just presumptuous and, frankly, a little comical. Hank found the corners of his own mouth turned up with poorly disguised mirth.

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

Tuesday, November 29th, 2005 (12:30 PM)

New York was frigid. The streets were slick with snow and while the impending holiday yielded twinkling lights and all manner of decorations, Hank could confidently confirm that the sidewalks were desolate for a city that normally bustled— veritably bursting at the seams with pedestrians. No one wanted to be out in that weather and he couldn’t blame them. He would have been content to count himself among those bundled up inside save for one important and unavoidable fact: He had procrastinated on his Christmas shopping.

The task was nearly completed, and with his stomach ‘singing the song of its people’, Henry pulled his SUV over to the curb the moment his blue eyes alighted upon a whimsical cafe. It was nestled in the middle of a line of quaint shops. They were the kind that had brick facings and bowed display windows with canopy awnings; delicate in details, strong in turn-of-the-century design.

He turned off the vehicle and immediately nudged up the sleeve of his coat. One claw pressed a subtle button on the side of his wristwatch and in the rearview mirror, Hank watched his visage blip, then shimmer.

The image inducer remained a bizarre exercise in nostalgia no matter how many times he engaged it; a reminder of how much he had changed. Despite the lack of boyish charm and the tell-tale signs of crow’s feet and smile lines, the shift from cerulean to brown (these days with a few smattered streaks of grey), never ceased to tug his heart strings.

Hank smoothed a hand over his chin strap beard and resolutely refused to look at himself on any reflective surface. Only rumination and self-depreciation would be his rewards for that. He was used to the blue– he was! While the image inducer was a necessity to not be mobbed in public, a trip down memory lane was decidedly not.

A book and his tablet tucked securely under one brawny arm, Hank nudged open the door to the cafe and was rewarded with warm lighting and a wave of homey aromas that wafted to him from across the room. His lashes danced and a sharp inhale revealed the smooth flavour of coffee and a tantalizing sweetness: Desserts. Cookies, cakes… oh, he had chosen perfection.

‘Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are.’ A helpful literary recollection– Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin could describe the most mundane with a mouthwatering enthusiasm. Particularly apt considering his position.

He needed to pull himself together.

Fishing glasses from the inner pocket of his coat, Henry perched them on his strong nose, stepped into the line for the counter and brought his touchscreen up to review that shopping list.

Ororo was certainly done and Charles too he could cross off. Scott was nearly complete. Then there was Logan; an infuriating man but a friend nonetheless. Something cheap and alcoholic? He seemed like the type.

Hank winced. No, that would not do! Cigars, then. Surely that imbecile could appreciate a Perdomo, and hopefully enough to get them through the encroaching season without trying to gouge out each other’s trachea.

Ruminating the perils of two ferals encroaching on unwillingly shared territory, Hank felt his hackles rise beneath the illusion of his image inducer when a short, soft, nigh fragile form jostled into his back.

He hadn’t heard a thing until the thump of books, a gasp and: “I’m so sorry!”

Whirling in a sharp turn, Hank darted down onto one knee without thought and forgoing so much as a glance; hands offering assistance. “Water under the bridge, my dear.” Then eyes finally canted over his glasses and the mutant-in-disguise was struck by the fact that this woman was stunning.

And so he paused.

Henry was about to add two more hefty textbooks to the load already wrapped in the girl’s arms when he paused– pity making him suck in his lower lip. “Let… me take these to a table for you.”

The girl gathered dark curls behind one ear and her hazel eyes flitted around the cafe. “Oh, no. I couldn’t–!”

“Then it’s fortuitous that I’m insisting!” Both heavy eyebrows ascended. Hank smiled, rising to his feet with a grunt; his chin soon nudged in the direction of an empty table by the window. “Sufficient?” “More than.” The woman’s shoulders dropped in relief. “I can’t thank you enough– and I’m the one that ran into you!”

Waving a hand, the burly man implied that, again, it was hardly a misdemeanor. In fact his eyes seemed far more preoccupied with the subject of the books temporarily in his retinue. “Journalism major?”

Seating herself, the woman indicated the chair across from her. It was out of politeness, he knew, but Hank took it gladly– casting his wool coat over the back while she offered a response. “Trying. Final year.”

A hum of sympathy offered; “Specialization…? If you don’t object to my curiosity.”

“Editorial. I know, I know– I’m a glutton for punishment!” Both of her hands gestured, and she crashed back into her chair– slumped inelegantly.

Hank hid a smile behind fingers that rubbed over the lower half of his face. “I’ve surmised from colleagues in the field that the workflow demand only increases after completion of your B.J.” He was teasing, naturally– eyes crinkled and shoulders in the telltale, silent motion of mirth. “Which makes it obvious why you bowled me over– caffeine necessitated a complete lack of etiquette!.”

“Oh– so you’re a comedian! Right, yeah– funny!” The woman huffed, if not impolitely. She seemed to enjoy the banter. “I thought that was– what did you call it? Water under the bridge?” One finger twisted a curl of her impeccable hair

Hank, despite having just been challenged, found the motion far too distracting. She truly was exquisite. Thankfully his stomach growled– sudden, loud and insistent. It was enough to pop him out of his staring with a few blinks and the sharp rise of his shoulders; back drawn stiff at the reminder that he wasn’t there to flirt with a stranger (he wasn’t). “Perchance, could I interest you in a coffee?”

Her lips twisted into a smile across the table. “Isn’t that a little fast? You don’t even know my name.”

Red flushed his cheeks like a tidalwave. It overtook his ears and right down his neck. Stars and garters–! He hated it when he blushed. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

He did mean it like that.

So much for verbose eloquence.

The beautiful, sophisticated woman who had found herself proficient in rendering Doctor Henry McCoy’s IQ dejectedly close to his shoe size pressed exactly two fingers to her lips– hazel eyes shimmering. Blessings upon blessings; she took pity on his mortal soul. “Charlotte. My name is Charlotte.”

Reaching over, Henry offered her his hand and an audible breath of relief. “Hank.Terrific to make your acquaintance, Charlotte.”

“Call me Lola, Hank.”

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

Read More: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48750490/chapters/122975914

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

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This story is an AU of The Last Stand combined with SOME comic elements and a LITTLE bit of Alternate Movie Timeline shenanigans. I pull stuff as I see fit and have fun! Enjoy!

I'll be posting a chapter per day / every other day until I catch up with my AO3! I'll also be posting my other Hank McCoy story titled Coffee, Tea or Me.

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

STORY SUMMARY

Secretary Hank McCoy has traditionally spent the holidays alone. This year he’d been invited by Charles to the mansion for a celebration he wasn’t morally able to turn down.

During a trip to New York for presents, Hank stumbles across a human woman he just can’t seem to walk away from. It’s serendipity at its finest during a time of year when romance seems magical.

Lola, a Journalism major with innocent dreams of making the world a better place, finds herself attracted to a muscular, charismatic middle-aged man she runs into (quite literally) in her favourite cafe. He likes wearing fine suits. She's just trying to make it to the end of her final year.

There’s more than meets the eye, however, to the gentleman that’s caught HER eye. He isn’t what he seems and he’s hiding a very BLUE secret from her.

[rejectedbad]

Rejected Bad: Lawnmower

The following is a rejected script from an early season of Breaking Bad.

FADE IN:

EXT. WALTER'S GARDEN - DAY

Walter is standing near a brand-new, shiny lawn-mower, while Hank looks at it with envy.

WALTER: (proudly) Look at her, Hank. Ain't she a beauty?

HANK: (checking it out) Yeah, that's a nice one. What kind is it?

WALTER: (smiling) It's a Don Jeer. Cost me a pretty penny, but she's worth it. (patting it) She's gonna make my yard the envy of the neighbourhood.

HANK: (smiling) Yeah, I bet.

WALTER: (leaning in) But that's not all she's good for.

Hank looks at Walter, confused.

WALTER: (grinning) Here, let me show you. (Walter pushes a button and the lawn-mower starts up.)

Hank watches in horror as Walter drives the lawn-mower over to a pile of gagged and bound bodies off to the side of the yard.

HANK: (shocked) What the hell, Walter? Who are those guys?

WALTER: (laughing) Oh, just a couple guys from a rival gang.

Hank's face grins as he understands, and Walter continues to drive the lawn-mower back and forth over the bodies.

WALTER: (smiling) See? She works like a dream. Gives a whole new meaning to 'lawn-mowing'.

Hank can only shake his head at Walter’s antics as he continues to take pleasure in mowing down the bodies.

CUT TO:

INT. WALTER'S KITCHEN - DAY

Jesse is inside, arguing with the freezer.

JESSE: (yelling) Come on, you piece of crap! I want my snowcones!

Walter and Hank come inside to find Jesse banging on the freezer door.

WALTER: (annoyed) What the hell's the matter with you?

JESSE: (frustrated) This thing won't make me snowcones!

Hank looks at Walt, confused.

WALTER: (rolling his eyes) I swear, Jesse. If you weren't such a good cook, I'd have fired you by now.

Jesse looks ashamed as Walter goes to the freezer, hits it on the side, and opens the door. Inside, there are several bags of ice.

WALTER: (smiling) You just gotta put some elbow grease into it, son.

Jesse looks impressed as Walter begins to scoop the ice into a bowl for the snowcones.

HANK: (chuckling) Well, I guess we all have our talents, right boys?

Walter and Jesse both smile in agreement as they sit down to enjoy their snowcones.

FADE OUT.

[inkizblog]

im fluent in english and spanish and know some latin remnants which isnt important vut its cool and good for linguistics…also i gaslight people that im french /exag /j

this is long i will reply individually

okay, so in band we basically play our instruments😁😝😁 the ones you usually start out on are flute, trumpet, alto sax, clarinet, or snare drum. im a tenor sax player rn but i started on piano (outside of school) and alto sax in school ^^^^ LUCKY? I WANT THAT BUT I CANT PLAY ANY INSTRUMENT. actually i was oretty good at the flute heh BUT THEN I LOST MY DAMN BOOK

we have to do these concerts… one winter concert and one spring concert ^^^ scary!!! i do not like performances!!! actually idk ive only performed like once. also we were gonna do a play once in our school and i got the lead for act 1 or at LEAST one of the main characters despite wanting a background character AND THEN WE NEVER DID IT AND IM SO MAD???? at tje time though i was probably relieved because i was an ungrateful brat and didnt want the role

there’s like “stages” of band (at least for our school)

there’s the first one, which everyone is automatically in if they joined band. you play like 3 songs ^^^^ not so scary! id maybe survive. also irrelevant but sax is so cool i wanna play the sax

there’s is the second, which is mainly for people who have been doing band for +2 years in our school (or just really good).. you play the three songs from the first stage plus 5 other songs ^^^ a bit complex but ikay!!! kinda like my spanish class!!!!! i probably would survive but SCARECLY. if its about flute that is i cant play any other instrument for the life of me…not even piano

and then there is the third, which is called jazz band. you have to audition to get in, and you play the 8 songs from the other stages plus MORE songs ^^ i freaking LOVE jazz!!!! AUSYGHSHFHF!!!!!!?!!!!!! I LOVE SWING BAND JAZZ AND. SMOOTH JAZZ AND JAZZ CLASSICS AND GRGRGRGEG AND ALSO AFROCUBAN JAZZ?!!? AND MODAL JAZZ AND COOL JAZZ GRGRGRGRG I LOVE MILES DAVIS AND ESPECIALLY JOHN COLTRANE….AND HANK LEVY BECAUSE ONE OF MY FRIENDS GOT ME INTO HIM AND DON ELLIS

i auditioned and got in!! so yippee ^^ congrats! doing what i cant <//3 SIGH…i envy you

uhh chorus is kinda the same except you sing (I THINK) ^^ my friend has that! yeah, basically you sing. idk if she has choir too, or if its the same thing but she definitely has specifically chorus (i remember her saying it, they were doung a frank sinatra song which is cool! i freaking love frank sinatra)

i don’t know much about chorus or the theatre club sadly… 🙁🙁🙁 ^^^ i have two friends in each of those and i am especially jealoud if the theatre kid. she said i give off theatre kid vibes in the best way which is objectively correct btw

-📍anon

so for band you start out with those instruments and only if the teacher is happy with your skills then you get to move on to cool ones like the oboe or the bari sax 👅

I LOVE JAZZ TOO… YOUR SO REAL ON THAT BROSKI ❤️❤️💞💞❤️ and then people have the AUDACITY to say “jazz sucks you are a loser for liking it”

I did a preformabce in theater ONCE because it was kinda a club like thing

I got ensemble and my family got real mad at me because I didn’t get a better role…

pin anon theatre kid CANON ❤️❤️❤️ do you watch musicals