[There are a few things in his new life that Cable is growing accustomed to. Up until this morning, he would not have said sharing a bed with Wade was one of them.
Unfortunately, the presence of a warm body in bed with him is familiar. It staves off the subconscious reminders that he's not home and his daughter's room isn't down the hall.
It was not without teething issues, since they're both restless and hard to settle in different ways. Cable is ready for bed early, he likes to sit in dim light and read until he sleeps. Wade hasn't gotten on board with his way of thinking, but he will. Because no matter what Wade does, Cable is in bed before 9.30pm with a book. If Wade loiters too long, he just rolls over and pretends to sleep while quietly fuming.
There's also the matter of the godawful heat, which makes the presence of a warm body slightly less comforting. Fortunately, Cable keeps busy enough that he feels genuinely tired by the end of the day and if he isn't, he's only a few beers away from it. More than a few, some particularly hot nights.
On those occasions, Cable sleeps like a rock. A big, obtrusive rock that has pointy metal parts, snores and probably needs a dental dam for his teeth grinding. He feels he remembers losing patience with Wade and rolling over to sleep, probably consuming more than his share of the bed with his obtrusive rock body.
[With Wade, there's no middle slider: he's either the most obnoxious roommate you'll ever have or the best one. Probably if you've never had experience with roommates. Though there is something to be said about the fact he managed to live with Blind Al not once, but twice; and considering what a prickly bitch she is, he must be doing something wrong (or she's an old blind lady and loves his coke and merc money, who knows?)
Maybe surprisingly, Wade is mostly tidy. His swords always go in the same corner every night, he doesn't leave the sheets a tangled mess, and he's never mixed up their toothbrushes (maybe once, when he came home drunk. So sue him.) But Cable's old man reading routine? Ugh. Drives him up a wall, yeah. Not that Wade's exactly been a big reader ever, but there were times -- on certain days -- when it'd just be him and Ness and the quiet, a book in their hands, and then she'd make him give a book report while tying him to the bed and battering his ass into the mattress. It'd been a damn good time.
And now? Well, he sure as hell doesn't have any books around.
Got other stuff. Now a random collection of knives, including his favourite -- the unicorn-headed letter opener he nicked from the haunted office building that he sharpened into a shiv. A bag of marbles and jacks (who knew the damn things even still existed?) Maybe a stuffie that doesn't look anything like any animal Wade's seen, but it's soft and furry and it's got a supremely disturbing amount of legs, so that's enough for him. He comes home and it's usually the first thing he grabs on the way to bed. Where it's currently sitting on his head now. Exhaustion isn't a thing for him, but that sort of bone-deep tiredness is; there's plenty of nights he comes home and flops into bed and only manages a night, bitch before he's floated off. He doesn't talk about how much better he sleeps since Cable agreed to share the room. Doesn't think about how fucking insane he felt from the silence in the room before there was another body in it.
Been a long time since he was in a place alone, huh? Even after Ness and him -- he went slithering back to Al's side.
So now he's in bed, with a maybe-insect stuffed animal on his head, and he's thrown an arm over Cable's side and maybe a leg and maybe he does have this horrible penchant for latching onto the nearest thing in bed, whether it's a pillow or a gun or a body, without any regard for how hot it is or isn't. It's not until Cable's rolling on top of him he starts awake, giving a groan. Ugh. It'd been a good dream, too. (Evidenced by the drool spot on his pillow.)] Cabe. M'all for you crushing me, but prefer you doin' it on purpose.
[C'mon, he has to go to work tomorrow. Who's idea was it to share the bed, anyway? (Three guesses, first two don't count.)]
[ Is he doing this 'cause Charles asked him to? Yeah. He is. That's what he's gonna say if anybody asks, and that's all he's gonna admit to. But if you wanna know the truth, it's more than that. It's—
Whatever. He's just doing it, alright? What's it matter why? ]
[Oh my god, he really is initiating! There's not a squeal when Wade plucks up his phone, a spatula in the other, to see what number is texting him. Which he can see easily, considering it's listed as ❤️❤️❤️peanut!!❤️❤️❤️.
Yes, he texts during work. Who doesn't?]
well yeah i live here
[That's what the kids call "keeping it cool". Okay, that's what boomers call it. What the kids call it is "rizz".]
i dont get paid until friday if ur trying to bum another nood bowl off me
[ She doesn't particularly want to make this call, but... needs must. ]
How is your number on my contact list.
[ There's no true name attached to his number — only the grammatically suspect "mall meet cute <3 <3 <3" — but she has a feeling she knows whose voice she'll hear. ]
[Oh hey, it's that lady! Like he would ever forget that haunting growl as she audibly threatened him and physically had her hand inside his chest cavity.
And to think he'd be in a real jam if there wasn't a voice asking that question, considering how many phones mysteriously have his number in them.]
Uhh, funny you should ask! If you didn't feel an intimate mutual connection, then it's because of a weird, inexplicable cosmic event completely outside of my control.
[Cable is rarely surprised when Wade comes home and meekly tells him that his car is in some state of disrepair. He doesn't complain. He likes to keep busy. Sometimes he wonders if Wade just batters his car so Cable needs to fix it.
Food for thought. While he's under Wade's car. Tuning it up.
It's raining by the time he comes back upstairs and he looks like a soggy polar bear. He shrugs his jacket off and hangs it as he plods into the apartment. He's pulling his tank top up his middle, wiping his face with it. Exposing himself without care, walking to the kitchen.]
[Wade maintains it isn't his fault, actually, except the times it is, like when he threw a brick at that guy driving the shitty Chevy going too slow out of town, and a big guy with horns and an alarming amount of eyes got out and beat the front of the Beetle a bit with what could've been either PVC pipe or someone's very mummified arm, until Wade had to also climb out and cut off one of the guy's hands.
And then untie the poor bastard who had been flopping like a fish out of water in the bed of the truck.
That's just an average day for a hero (trainee) sometimes.
(Sometimes he does it so Cable has something to do, when Wade can see he's getting itchy and twitchy and maybe blowing figurative sparks. Workaholics, who?)
Wade's been busy tinkering on his swords, which involves mostly cleaning gunk out of the careful engravings in the hilts, and somehow he already has a bottle of water (the tap's shit) that he throws to Cable the moment his soaking, wet-dog smell comes in through the door.
It wouldn't feel like if anything was different if Wade just kept working, maybe even asked him how it was going, if his baby's all spruced up again. The difference is Wade's attention's pulled away from what he was concentrating on and he's looking at Cable.
Okay, that part isn't surprising. Wade watches Cable. He watches anyone hot in his vicinity naturally. The difference is he's looking at Cable's eyes and not (entirely) the flash of his big tits, metal or otherwise.]
Hey, uh -- [Oh, he should've just shut his trap before he started, 'cause he already feels the ripple. Not the first time in the last week.] I appreciate it, you know. Uh. Fixing her up. Doing your Tim the Toolman thing. [Okay, now he's looking at the stretch of skin.] Doing it with significantly less clothing every time. Seriously, just take the thing off. It's soaking wet.
[Something must be meaningful, because he doesn't follow it up with an "I'm soaking wet. Yet.]
[ Wade will find a nice package left at his door. He managed to get a box, but there was no wrapping paper for him to find, so it will have to do. Anyone who thought about touching said box would find themselves thinking otherwise, so it remains there until Wade is back. When he does, he'll see that it is a 1980s-style VCR machine and one single VHS tape, titled 'Risky Business.' It has been recently cleaned and cared for, as he would not give anyone a gift that wasn't in the best condition he could get it.
Charles has no idea what the movie is, and he fears it may be an inappropriate one, but it was the only thing he could find. With it comes a note in his very elegant handwriting.]
I know you enjoy films. I was told you could use this for that purpose. There was no television to go with it, but perhaps we can find one. Thank you for helping Logan. I am very grateful. - Charles
If Wade had ever had a thought in his head when he was heading out to see Logan, it wasn't for the idea he was doing anything even resembling a good deed. Let alone that he'd catch a reward for it beyond catching Logan's claws in his guts (which he did. He definitely did.)
There might be a second where, once he finds it, he just holds the VCR to his chest and sniffles.
From the Charles Xavier, huh?
Shit. Now he has to get a TV.
Eventually Charles will get a text message with a flippancy like Wade didn't time it exactly to make it seem like he just casually forgot about the gift in the first place.]
You don't gotta thank me, Chuck. Maybe same way I don't gotta thank you.
[ Getting Scott home was enough of a pain. You know what he didn't need on top of that? Whatever the hell he was sitting on. Does Wade even know? Did he put that shit in there? ]
Uh, I think you need to take it up with Cthulhu. What, you're not digging the new style? I find it kind of comforting. When it wraps around your bare skin... that's luxury.
[ After all of the commotion with the blood donations, the last thing Adrian needs is more excitement in his life... unfortunately, that's exactly what he's gotten. He'd woken up to the scent of blood filling the van, only to find the glove compartment steadily dripping onto the passenger seat.
When Fern asked him what he'd done, he'd been at a loss for once. He'd been too busy with other things to go seeking mysterious powers and, even if he had, he'd hardly entreat them for this.
Waiting inside the glove compartment had been... A hunk of meat. Adrian could only discern that it wasn't human, and from the wider shape of the muscle at the top, perhaps a part of some poor creature's leg. It had been severed cleanly at both ends, as if to fit the confines of the space, and was covered in short pink and purple fur.
After much deliberation, it had gone into the cooler full of ice in the van, and Adrian had put up some flyers asking for someone to test it or identify it before the meat could go sour. With time being of the essence, they'd taken the first person to make an offer that didn't include some sort of veiled threat that Fern could discern.
He and Fern had driven out to the fringes the same day, setting up a campfire not far from their van to ward off the damp chill. Adrian is sitting on a blanket by the fire, cooler full of meat beside him. Fern is prowling restlessly.
Adrian waves as a car slows to a stop nearby, already getting to his feet. To Fern, he says: ] Do you think that's the alchemist?
[ Did he ever say he was an alchemist? Unclear. But Adrian is under the impression that this guy is going to test the meat for safety with some sort of professional apparatus. He seemed very sure that he would be able to tell if it was safe to consume!
Louder: ] Hello! Are you Mr—?
[ —Oh, right. They should let him say it to verify his identity. ]
[So the easy explanation for why Wade's here -- and honestly, it really is an easy one -- is he'll basically agree to anything for money. He's killed a lot of bad people for money. He's killed a lot of good people for money, too. Or, like. They were good, to, like, other bad guys. Yeah. He's not a villain, okay, it's more like hero-adjacent.
So doing something like sticking his hand in a toilet? For a tenner, sure. That can at least buy him two eggs to rub together.
Showing up for some guy's weird-ass car modification?
It's mostly for the fun of it, actually.
So when Wade's yellow Beetle rolls up, he's already half hanging out the window to answer:] Mr. Solve-Your-Problems-At-A-Low-Price, you betcha! Oh, hey Fern! Been a while! [He gives her a wave as he clambers out of his car, plucking off pieces of the fur lining the car's interior off his Live, Laugh, Lobotomy hoodie. Thing is, it's only covering the chest part of his entire Deadpool outfit; when he's on a job, the suit goes on. It's convenient, and he saves his nicer clothes for fajita dates.
(He's been trying to collect the stray fur to make his own new hairpiece, but to be honest, that car is not shedding fast enough.)]
Ah, I see I'm not the only guy who wears a shirt when he swims around here. [He takes in the prudish rich boy with a keen eye through his mask's lenses. Never been opposite someone covering nearly as much skin as Wade does sometimes. Ooh, is he like Night of the Living Dead under there? His head whips between them. Is it too on the nose if he makes an Ebony & Ivory joke?
Yeah. Yeah, it's not that kind of crowd. He doesn't want Fern to bite him and turn him into a werewolf. (Yet.)] You guys buddies?
[ Wade's car isn't hard to find, especially now that Logan knows Wade—sorry, Waddles—works with Karen. In an effort not to completely destroy the door because he's not trying to be a dick (this time), Logan coat-hangers his way past the passenger door lock.
Whenever Wade returns, he'll find a new fuzzy addition dangling from the rear view mirror. The fur matches.
There's also something a little more real sitting on the dash: a six-inch tactical blade, a modest upgrade to the shitty knife Wade's been using. Stuck to it is a note that reads: Lose this and I'll kill you. ]
[At least he didn't leave a card intended for a Waddles. He's never living that down, huh.
It's when he's about to go out for a quick trip to the diner (to steal a few loaves of bread) that he pops in, turns the Beetle's heating on full blast, and readjusts his seat sharp enough that one of the dice hits him in the face.
Wait a second. He sniffs. Why's it smell like Jack Daniels's closest generic brand competitor in here? Of course, he's got three guesses. First two don't count. The note seals it.
It's no shitty knife he found stuck in a table somewhere, either. She's beautiful. She's got a beautiful aura, so she needs a beautiful name. Like Kitty.
Of course Logan's not doing that with no response:]
you shouldnt have done that. you have no idea the amount of damage i can do with six inches
[ The weirdest thing to realize is that he actually knows Wade is okay. He can't explain it. Just—a feeling. But he needs to be sure, he wants to hear the idiot tell him that it was all in his head.
So he calls, dialing with a bottle in one hand and pacing out back behind the general store. Stars twinkle above. It's warm. He can still feel the frost prickling his skin. The phone rings once, twice. Five times. ]
[The first thing he did once he wasn't, you know, actively dying, was go on a fuckfest. But the fucking was eating. So it was an eatfest. Dying sort of sucks, but you know what suuuper sucks? Starving. 'Cause it sort of just never ends.
So it's when Wade's sweet lips are wrapped around a big, thick, meaty sub when his phone goes off. He has to chew through like three inches of bread before he manages to fumble it out of one of his suit's pouches, because he's sitting in his suit with his mask only half-rolled up his face (he missed it, okay?)]
Huh?
[Somehow he's still saying it through a mouthful of bread.] Oh, hey Logie. [Still through a mouthful. This bread is chewy. Admittedly, this looks bad. He was gonna call. Catch up. Check in. But he was so fucking hungry, it was like he'd gone full animal for the closest thing he could get his hands on.] Breathin', eatin', shittin'. All the best things in life. [Hold on a second.] Figured you felt our little -- you know.
[And that was enough. If Logan cared at all. But. He. Definitely said dumb fuck with the kind of concern Wade doesn't hear often.
He swallows and doesn't take another bite, putting it down.] Hey. You good? [And Wade's got real concern, too.] Sorry. Felt like I was gonna lose it if I didn't eat something.
[ There is no actual way to be discreet about it. Not without Harry walking into the diner in a hoodie and scarf to obscure his features. Instead, he pays the nearest teen to deliver this hot pink basket filled with a few small gifts: a bottle of hot sauce from that one BBQ place, a VHS tape with a white sticker on the spine that reads ‘The Spiral Notepad’, a few select chocolate candies, and a plush pastel pink cat (that has probably seen better days, but it’s closest he could find to fit the theme).
And in case Wade develops a case of the Wild Suspicions, Harry adds a small pump of his cologne.
There’s a small card that reads:
Figured you could use a small pick-me-up while you’re at work. Don't eat too many of those fried eggs. I'm making your favorite for dinner. Wear something comfortable after you take that apron off.
[There is no actual way that a teenager willingly approaches Karen and not only asks to see the fry cook, but asks to see him holding an actual basket. A pink basket. For a second, he's pretty sure it's a bomb. Has to be. So now he's gotta make sure Karen doesn't die in a bomb blast that some glaze-distributing asshole sent to him on a dare.
And maybe the kid too. Shit.
Wade takes the basket with a knife in his other hand.] If this is a bomb, I'm gonna have to cut off all your fingers.
[Dude. What? It's just a Valentine's thing.
Wade stares at him. Wait. That's why they've been asking for heart-shaped pancakes all day? He pops the knife back in his apron.] This never happened. [He passes the kid a few joolies, which leaves him standing awkwardly around with a hot pink basket from.
Okay, this is definitely not a Cable thing. Does he have a nemesis yet? Nemeses? Is this some attempt to humiliate him? Joke's on him, because he's gonna hang this basket up.
Right, there's a card. Okay.
Oh.
Wait. That -- he scented it?]
You're fucking kidding me.
[He balls up his apron and throws it into the back blindly, tugging the basket out to a table to pull out one item after another, exclusively catered to his horrible taste in everything, from BBQ sauce to movies to garish stuffies. He squeezes it. It's the ugliest thing he's ever seen.
It's perfect. That's getting a high-grade seat of respect in his kitchen. On top of the fridge or something.
He yells Karen over after he reads the card, because, yes, he has to show her every bit of it. To make sure this isn't some evil Gen-Z joke he doesn't know about (luckily: confirmed.)
Jesus Christ. Is he in the Twilight Zone?
Oh, now he's the Gen-Z, texting his boytoy on the clock. you sure you didnt send this to the wrong wade wilson? not gonna take it personally promise. easy mistake to make.
no i lied i'm gonna take it very personally. i might have to take his face and wear his skin. A perfectly normal response that he definitely does not have second thoughts about even though he already sent it. Moving on. What is his favourite, even? Actually the answer is basically "anything Harry might make" because this whole thing? This is a fucking novelty.
One he's pretty sure he did not earn. At all.
Didn't think he'd ever get anything like it again, either. im off in an hour. meet you at your own private siberia. promise ill be wearing clothes.
Just felt like it needed to be said.]
Edited (there was not a chance in hell I was gonna get the html right the first time) 2026-02-15 10:15 (UTC)
[ There is a distinct 'knock' sound on Wade's head, a polite indication that Charles usually does as a warning, but this is his first time directly going into Wade's mind.]
[That knock is probably the weirdest feeling he's had in his head for a while since that time he put a Hitachi magic wand on his forehead while on a vibrating bed. It's like a miniature seizure but with a Mr. Rogers accent.]
Chuck? No way. Are we communicating in italics? That's so rad. [He's currently wrenching his sword out of a ribcage as he peers around, like he's gonna see the words mysteriously floating in the air. Haha, wrong game. Wait, is this what being a real X-Man was like? Getting sexy little messages from your prof at all hours of the day?] Well, yeah, why? Expecting me to die from a little EMP?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
Unfortunately, the presence of a warm body in bed with him is familiar. It staves off the subconscious reminders that he's not home and his daughter's room isn't down the hall.
It was not without teething issues, since they're both restless and hard to settle in different ways. Cable is ready for bed early, he likes to sit in dim light and read until he sleeps. Wade hasn't gotten on board with his way of thinking, but he will. Because no matter what Wade does, Cable is in bed before 9.30pm with a book. If Wade loiters too long, he just rolls over and pretends to sleep while quietly fuming.
There's also the matter of the godawful heat, which makes the presence of a warm body slightly less comforting. Fortunately, Cable keeps busy enough that he feels genuinely tired by the end of the day and if he isn't, he's only a few beers away from it. More than a few, some particularly hot nights.
On those occasions, Cable sleeps like a rock. A big, obtrusive rock that has pointy metal parts, snores and probably needs a dental dam for his teeth grinding. He feels he remembers losing patience with Wade and rolling over to sleep, probably consuming more than his share of the bed with his obtrusive rock body.
Hardly matters, because he's comfortably asleep.]
no subject
Maybe surprisingly, Wade is mostly tidy. His swords always go in the same corner every night, he doesn't leave the sheets a tangled mess, and he's never mixed up their toothbrushes (maybe once, when he came home drunk. So sue him.) But Cable's old man reading routine? Ugh. Drives him up a wall, yeah. Not that Wade's exactly been a big reader ever, but there were times -- on certain days -- when it'd just be him and Ness and the quiet, a book in their hands, and then she'd make him give a book report while tying him to the bed and battering his ass into the mattress. It'd been a damn good time.
And now? Well, he sure as hell doesn't have any books around.
Got other stuff. Now a random collection of knives, including his favourite -- the unicorn-headed letter opener he nicked from the haunted office building that he sharpened into a shiv. A bag of marbles and jacks (who knew the damn things even still existed?) Maybe a stuffie that doesn't look anything like any animal Wade's seen, but it's soft and furry and it's got a supremely disturbing amount of legs, so that's enough for him. He comes home and it's usually the first thing he grabs on the way to bed. Where it's currently sitting on his head now. Exhaustion isn't a thing for him, but that sort of bone-deep tiredness is; there's plenty of nights he comes home and flops into bed and only manages a night, bitch before he's floated off. He doesn't talk about how much better he sleeps since Cable agreed to share the room. Doesn't think about how fucking insane he felt from the silence in the room before there was another body in it.
Been a long time since he was in a place alone, huh? Even after Ness and him -- he went slithering back to Al's side.
So now he's in bed, with a maybe-insect stuffed animal on his head, and he's thrown an arm over Cable's side and maybe a leg and maybe he does have this horrible penchant for latching onto the nearest thing in bed, whether it's a pillow or a gun or a body, without any regard for how hot it is or isn't. It's not until Cable's rolling on top of him he starts awake, giving a groan. Ugh. It'd been a good dream, too. (Evidenced by the drool spot on his pillow.)] Cabe. M'all for you crushing me, but prefer you doin' it on purpose.
[C'mon, he has to go to work tomorrow. Who's idea was it to share the bed, anyway? (Three guesses, first two don't count.)]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
pls inbox stop hiding my sexy cable tags
some time in august, before the x-meeting.
Whatever. He's just doing it, alright? What's it matter why? ]
You in the city?
GASP!!! LOGAN INITIAING??
Yes, he texts during work. Who doesn't?]
well yeah i live here
[That's what the kids call "keeping it cool". Okay, that's what boomers call it. What the kids call it is "rizz".]
i dont get paid until friday if ur trying to bum another nood bowl off me
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
voice;
How is your number on my contact list.
[ There's no true name attached to his number — only the grammatically suspect "mall meet cute <3 <3 <3" — but she has a feeling she knows whose voice she'll hear. ]
voice;
And to think he'd be in a real jam if there wasn't a voice asking that question, considering how many phones mysteriously have his number in them.]
Uhh, funny you should ask! If you didn't feel an intimate mutual connection, then it's because of a weird, inexplicable cosmic event completely outside of my control.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
I had to do it
2/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
action; empathy bonds
Food for thought. While he's under Wade's car. Tuning it up.
It's raining by the time he comes back upstairs and he looks like a soggy polar bear. He shrugs his jacket off and hangs it as he plods into the apartment. He's pulling his tank top up his middle, wiping his face with it. Exposing himself without care, walking to the kitchen.]
I'm thirsty.
no subject
And then untie the poor bastard who had been flopping like a fish out of water in the bed of the truck.
That's just an average day for a hero (trainee) sometimes.
(Sometimes he does it so Cable has something to do, when Wade can see he's getting itchy and twitchy and maybe blowing figurative sparks. Workaholics, who?)
Wade's been busy tinkering on his swords, which involves mostly cleaning gunk out of the careful engravings in the hilts, and somehow he already has a bottle of water (the tap's shit) that he throws to Cable the moment his soaking, wet-dog smell comes in through the door.
It wouldn't feel like if anything was different if Wade just kept working, maybe even asked him how it was going, if his baby's all spruced up again. The difference is Wade's attention's pulled away from what he was concentrating on and he's looking at Cable.
Okay, that part isn't surprising. Wade watches Cable. He watches anyone hot in his vicinity naturally. The difference is he's looking at Cable's eyes and not (entirely) the flash of his big tits, metal or otherwise.]
Hey, uh -- [Oh, he should've just shut his trap before he started, 'cause he already feels the ripple. Not the first time in the last week.] I appreciate it, you know. Uh. Fixing her up. Doing your Tim the Toolman thing. [Okay, now he's looking at the stretch of skin.] Doing it with significantly less clothing every time. Seriously, just take the thing off. It's soaking wet.
[Something must be meaningful, because he doesn't follow it up with an "I'm soaking wet. Yet.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
nsfw comin in hot... soon
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
throws this in your inbox outta nowhere
Bless you
:D
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
As discussed
Charles has no idea what the movie is, and he fears it may be an inappropriate one, but it was the only thing he could find. With it comes a note in his very elegant handwriting.]
I know you enjoy films. I was told you could use this for that purpose. There was no television to go with it, but perhaps we can find one. Thank you for helping Logan. I am very grateful. - Charles
no subject
If Wade had ever had a thought in his head when he was heading out to see Logan, it wasn't for the idea he was doing anything even resembling a good deed. Let alone that he'd catch a reward for it beyond catching Logan's claws in his guts (which he did. He definitely did.)
There might be a second where, once he finds it, he just holds the VCR to his chest and sniffles.
From the Charles Xavier, huh?
Shit. Now he has to get a TV.
Eventually Charles will get a text message with a flippancy like Wade didn't time it exactly to make it seem like he just casually forgot about the gift in the first place.]
You don't gotta thank me, Chuck. Maybe same way I don't gotta thank you.
But Momma taught me right. So -- thanks anyway.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
text.
The fuck did you do to your car.
no subject
Heh. Sucker. Hope Scott's not allergic.]
Uh, I think you need to take it up with Cthulhu. What, you're not digging the new style? I find it kind of comforting. When it wraps around your bare skin... that's luxury.
(no subject)
when u remember u have a texting style for a reason
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
action - cw meat compartment
When Fern asked him what he'd done, he'd been at a loss for once. He'd been too busy with other things to go seeking mysterious powers and, even if he had, he'd hardly entreat them for this.
Waiting inside the glove compartment had been... A hunk of meat. Adrian could only discern that it wasn't human, and from the wider shape of the muscle at the top, perhaps a part of some poor creature's leg. It had been severed cleanly at both ends, as if to fit the confines of the space, and was covered in short pink and purple fur.
After much deliberation, it had gone into the cooler full of ice in the van, and Adrian had put up some flyers asking for someone to test it or identify it before the meat could go sour. With time being of the essence, they'd taken the first person to make an offer that didn't include some sort of veiled threat that Fern could discern.
He and Fern had driven out to the fringes the same day, setting up a campfire not far from their van to ward off the damp chill. Adrian is sitting on a blanket by the fire, cooler full of meat beside him. Fern is prowling restlessly.
Adrian waves as a car slows to a stop nearby, already getting to his feet. To Fern, he says: ] Do you think that's the alchemist?
[ Did he ever say he was an alchemist? Unclear. But Adrian is under the impression that this guy is going to test the meat for safety with some sort of professional apparatus. He seemed very sure that he would be able to tell if it was safe to consume!
Louder: ] Hello! Are you Mr—?
[ —Oh, right. They should let him say it to verify his identity. ]
no subject
So doing something like sticking his hand in a toilet? For a tenner, sure. That can at least buy him two eggs to rub together.
Showing up for some guy's weird-ass car modification?
It's mostly for the fun of it, actually.
So when Wade's yellow Beetle rolls up, he's already half hanging out the window to answer:] Mr. Solve-Your-Problems-At-A-Low-Price, you betcha! Oh, hey Fern! Been a while! [He gives her a wave as he clambers out of his car, plucking off pieces of the fur lining the car's interior off his Live, Laugh, Lobotomy hoodie. Thing is, it's only covering the chest part of his entire Deadpool outfit; when he's on a job, the suit goes on. It's convenient, and he saves his nicer clothes for fajita dates.
(He's been trying to collect the stray fur to make his own new hairpiece, but to be honest, that car is not shedding fast enough.)]
Ah, I see I'm not the only guy who wears a shirt when he swims around here. [He takes in the prudish rich boy with a keen eye through his mask's lenses. Never been opposite someone covering nearly as much skin as Wade does sometimes. Ooh, is he like Night of the Living Dead under there? His head whips between them. Is it too on the nose if he makes an Ebony & Ivory joke?
Yeah. Yeah, it's not that kind of crowd. He doesn't want Fern to bite him and turn him into a werewolf. (Yet.)] You guys buddies?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
hides the date
(no subject)
text
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
ho ho ho motherfucker.
Whenever Wade returns, he'll find a new fuzzy addition dangling from the rear view mirror. The fur matches.
There's also something a little more real sitting on the dash: a six-inch tactical blade, a modest upgrade to the shitty knife Wade's been using. Stuck to it is a note that reads: Lose this and I'll kill you. ]
no subject
It's when he's about to go out for a quick trip to the diner (to steal a few loaves of bread) that he pops in, turns the Beetle's heating on full blast, and readjusts his seat sharp enough that one of the dice hits him in the face.
Wait a second. He sniffs. Why's it smell like Jack Daniels's closest generic brand competitor in here? Of course, he's got three guesses. First two don't count. The note seals it.
It's no shitty knife he found stuck in a table somewhere, either. She's beautiful. She's got a beautiful aura, so she needs a beautiful name. Like Kitty.
Of course Logan's not doing that with no response:]
you shouldnt have done that. you have no idea the amount of damage i can do with six inches
<3
some time after the voicemail change.
Why the hell is Charles on your phone.
no subject
1/2
2/?
3/3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
post-train at acreage; voice.
So he calls, dialing with a bottle in one hand and pacing out back behind the general store. Stars twinkle above. It's warm. He can still feel the frost prickling his skin. The phone rings once, twice. Five times. ]
C'mon, pick up the phone, dumb fuck—
[ —oh. He clears his throat. ]
Still breathing, I see.
[ Wasn't worried or anything. ]
no subject
So it's when Wade's sweet lips are wrapped around a big, thick, meaty sub when his phone goes off. He has to chew through like three inches of bread before he manages to fumble it out of one of his suit's pouches, because he's sitting in his suit with his mask only half-rolled up his face (he missed it, okay?)]
Huh?
[Somehow he's still saying it through a mouthful of bread.] Oh, hey Logie. [Still through a mouthful. This bread is chewy. Admittedly, this looks bad. He was gonna call. Catch up. Check in. But he was so fucking hungry, it was like he'd gone full animal for the closest thing he could get his hands on.] Breathin', eatin', shittin'. All the best things in life. [Hold on a second.] Figured you felt our little -- you know.
[And that was enough. If Logan cared at all. But. He. Definitely said dumb fuck with the kind of concern Wade doesn't hear often.
He swallows and doesn't take another bite, putting it down.] Hey. You good? [And Wade's got real concern, too.] Sorry. Felt like I was gonna lose it if I didn't eat something.
[Like he'd start eating his own arm. It hurt.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
🎀
happy galentine's day 🥴
And in case Wade develops a case of the Wild Suspicions, Harry adds a small pump of his cologne.
There’s a small card that reads:
Figured you could use a small pick-me-up while you’re at work. Don't eat too many of those fried eggs. I'm making your favorite for dinner. Wear something comfortable after you take that apron off.
...This isn't too corny, right? Nah. ]
i'm punching the air rn
And maybe the kid too. Shit.
Wade takes the basket with a knife in his other hand.] If this is a bomb, I'm gonna have to cut off all your fingers.
[Dude. What? It's just a Valentine's thing.
Wade stares at him. Wait. That's why they've been asking for heart-shaped pancakes all day? He pops the knife back in his apron.] This never happened. [He passes the kid a few joolies, which leaves him standing awkwardly around with a hot pink basket from.
Okay, this is definitely not a Cable thing. Does he have a nemesis yet? Nemeses? Is this some attempt to humiliate him? Joke's on him, because he's gonna hang this basket up.
Right, there's a card. Okay.
Oh.
Wait. That -- he scented it?]
You're fucking kidding me.
[He balls up his apron and throws it into the back blindly, tugging the basket out to a table to pull out one item after another, exclusively catered to his horrible taste in everything, from BBQ sauce to movies to garish stuffies. He squeezes it. It's the ugliest thing he's ever seen.
It's perfect. That's getting a high-grade seat of respect in his kitchen. On top of the fridge or something.
He yells Karen over after he reads the card, because, yes, he has to show her every bit of it. To make sure this isn't some evil Gen-Z joke he doesn't know about (luckily: confirmed.)
Jesus Christ. Is he in the Twilight Zone?
Oh, now he's the Gen-Z, texting his boytoy on the clock. you sure you didnt send this to the wrong wade wilson? not gonna take it personally promise. easy mistake to make.
no i lied i'm gonna take it very personally. i might have to take his face and wear his skin. A perfectly normal response that he definitely does not have second thoughts about even though he already sent it. Moving on. What is his favourite, even? Actually the answer is basically "anything Harry might make" because this whole thing? This is a fucking novelty.
One he's pretty sure he did not earn. At all.
Didn't think he'd ever get anything like it again, either. im off in an hour. meet you at your own private siberia. promise ill be wearing clothes.
Just felt like it needed to be said.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
nsfw comin in hot 🍆
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
During the blackout
Wade, it's Charles. Are you alright?
no subject
Chuck? No way. Are we communicating in italics? That's so rad. [He's currently wrenching his sword out of a ribcage as he peers around, like he's gonna see the words mysteriously floating in the air. Haha, wrong game. Wait, is this what being a real X-Man was like? Getting sexy little messages from your prof at all hours of the day?] Well, yeah, why? Expecting me to die from a little EMP?
"Haha, wrong game." LOL
i had to ok
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)