What A Tangled Web We Weave

[triggeritch-deactivated20210208]

There’s a rumbling                     In my head                         It’s getting louder                                              Louder There’s a shaking                     In my bones                        It’s getting stronger                                             Stronger There’s a hunger                      In my heart                           It’s full of promise                                             Promise

                                ((ind. pri. sel. earth-616 WADE WILSON written by sam))

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

wwwdotmaximumeffort :

Peter laughed and Wade found himself chuckling along, enjoying how natural and relaxed the sound was coming from the boy. They’d been snipping and snarking all night at one another so to hear a genuine sound was… nice. Wade figured he’d better return the favor. “What? What’s funny?”Peter’s explanation had them easily slipping back into banter. Wade smirked. “Got a thing for a guy in a onesie, huh? You artist-types are fucked up. But I’m flattered, I am. I’d offer to be your muse and inspiration if I didn’t get the feeling I’d take a stroll downtown one day and find a mosaic of me on a building side made entirely out of Twizzlers and well-thrown tomatoes.”

Pete’s body language changed. His face started doing something weird. And he got quiet. Wade busied himself by taking off one of his gloves, the velcro strap taken up in his teeth so he could tug it away. He knew that look Peter was giving - only because it was one he gave himself every morning in the bathroom mirror. Trying to find a way to say what you really wanted ( even to yourself ) and then thinking better of it.

He wouldn’t pry. At least not yet.

The answer he got was too simple for the amount of brief, concentrated contemplation that had passed over Peter’s features but Wade accepted it with a snort, speaking through the fabric held between his incisors. The glove swung back and forth against his chin as he fished for his phone in the recesses of his utility belt. “Was it in black and white? Ten bucks says it was in black and white.”

Their pacing slowed and Wade was grateful for that because it was taking him some time to find his cell. What about him? “You answered your own question there, pal,” he tried the tactic of deflection himself. “You take a girl’s picture and your problems start from there.”

His features scrunched up as Pete demanded some more honestly, tilting his head sidelong to catch the photographer out of the corner of his eyeholes with a ‘seriously?’ expression. “Alright. Only because when you took a pic of that crow bar wielding jug-head back there the flash was on and I’m pretty sure that gave me enough time to wrassle him good. Director’s cut. Actually… not too far off from yours.” His problems had started after he’d taken that picture with Vanessa.His middle and index finger hooked his phone, shimmying it out of his belt. “You get diagnosed with a terminal disease, you go through the stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, lead, and steel.” His gun and katanas were errantly gestured to for the latter words. “I guess I just sorta… embodied my past.” This time all of him was gestured towards. “… complicated.”

Wade could feel his face threatening to do what Pete’s had been doing a moment again. Thankfully he had a barrier for it. Still, he sucked in a breath and clicked his phone to life, briefly illuminating both of them. He had to confirm the cartel was taken care of. For now. “You work up an appetite swinging that point-and-shoot around with those stick arms? I know a twenty-four hour breakfast place that makes a mean eggs Benedict Cumberbatch.”

“Twizzlers and tomatoes?  Nah, My art, my rules.  You strike me more of a red hots and chili pepper kind of guy anyway.”  He holds up the thumb and forefinger of each hand in a rectangle, squinting at the merc through an imaginary frame.   “Self-induced intestinal distress and morning after regret.”  Mock serious.  By the time his arms drop back to his sides he’s grinning again.  Relaxed, valuing the back and forth enough to let the conversation slide further into casual familiarity.

Acquired tastes.  Peter can kind of understand the appeal.  Ignoring the giant murdering elephant in the room, Wade’s camaraderie was refreshing, even when they were baring teeth.  It’s a nice departure from his usual costumed associates.  Wolverine, Peter’s pretty sure he’s one poorly timed quip away from being fatefully snikt’d by the X-man regular.  Avengers, well Steve seems to have defrosted with a WWI era sense of humor and it’s impossible to talk to Natasha without being hyper-aware of the fact she has probably formulated twelve unique ways to dispatch him, quietly and cleanly.  Of course Stark was a likely enough candidate given their mutual interest in all things tech and science, but the billionaire’s excessive lavishness often came hand in ironclad hand with an even larger ego.  Peter wasn’t having any of that.  He had his own frayed sense-of-self to grapple with.

Wade, on the other hand, seemed about as far from those examples as a guy could get.  Wade was-  

Complicated.  The word carries more weight out the other man’s mouth.  He believes him.  It’s not the explanation he was looking for - it doesn’t answer anything and it’s flagrantly vague - but it doesn’t exactly ring as disingenuous either so Peter takes the statement at face value.  He doesn’t really have a choice.  Who knows, maybe he was better off not knowing the details.

Wade’s offering to extend the evening to a local diner and, not for the first time that night, Peter starts to sober.  His head bobs indecisively, torn between keeping the night going and not being sure about rubbing elbows with Deadpool in quite so public a setting.  To his credit the mercenary really does have the kind of unsavory reputation any rational do-gooder would be beyond reluctant to associate with.  Custom-made, efficient violence.  There was merit to keeping this strictly professional.  Away from the exposing glare of the street lamps that lined the heart of the city, at least without the obvious pretense of work.

The sensible thing to do would be to call it a night and head back to his cramped studio apartment.  Maybe even get some decent sleep for once.... but Peter’s never really been a stickler for ‘sensible’.

“Uh, sure."  He glances around the street for a moment, it's empty.  "I could eat.  I’ve been staring at your leather-bound dumper through a fifty millimeter lens all night so one us of probably owes the other a meal at this point."  Tongue in cheek.  Who could they possibly run into at this hour anyway?  It’s the end of the night, Peter’s awake, the cartel is burning and to hell if he’s not going to chase this high with greasy eggs and hash.  

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

simplywadewilson:

If Deadpool wanted him dead– which he doesn’t– Peter wouldn’t be eating a piece of chocolate right now. He was the type of guy to appreciate more hands-on activities, also being quite creative with how he killed. But Peter’s life was one he’d never want to take. There was one time that some hotshot tried to put Spidey in the Dead Pool (haha) and let’s just say Wade scared the living shit out of him. Literally or metaphorically? That was up to whomever to figure it out.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I like being hammered to the wall. Makes me feel good.” He wiggled his eyebrows under the mask, blowing him a kiss, despite the severe pain he was feeling. Don’t try to guilt trip him, he thought. You can heal, remember? You’ll be fine in a few minutes. “You’ll drink to that? Are you even old enough to drink?” He teased, looking over at him as he popped a small square into his mouth. “You’ve gotta at least tell me your age. I’ll tell you mine if I must. But I may as well be considered a T-Rex next to you.” And with that he bent his wrists down, waving his limp hands around as if he were said dinosaur.

There goes Wade with the questions again.  "Wow, half a candy bar and you think I'm going to get all loosey goosey with my personal bits?  What kind of lady do you take me for."  It's a rhetorical question, garbled through a mouthful of chocolate as Peter clutches at imaginary pearls to feign indignation.  The merc's continued interest is.. confusing?  Bordering on problematic really, if Peter's usual mistrust of the guy was anything to go by.  

"Deadpool. Buddy. Pal. Friendo.  Does it matter?  Sure, I'm old enough to drink..” in Canada. “If you are going to be carding Supers, why don't you start with the Young Avengers."  He offers dismissively, wiping his hands on his thighs before turning his full attention back to the man now that the food is gone.

"Okay.  I'll bite.  Why the sudden concern with age?  You starting the world’s most literal At-Risk Youth Program?"

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

simplywadewilson :

Of course. But he knew the spider’s threats were empty. He’d never go through with them unless he was real angry. And real angry as in if Wade kidnapped any relatives of his or something. He wouldn’t do such a thing though. Yeah he did do some dirty things that the government didn’t like (or did, depending on who hired him), but he wasn’t interested in holding someone Peter knew as ransom. He was above that. “Sure, Jan.” Still, it was a bit terrifying (and arousing) to see him get like that. Then he wondered what he’d be like during sex. Would he still be that rough?

He looked down to see his phone being given back to him. Wade took it and looked at it, seeing some minor cracks on the screen but it was whatever. If it still worked, then it was good. He slid down the wall and sat down next to him, digging into his other pocket to pull out a chocolate bar. “I was saving this for a special occasion to happen, but do you want half of it?” Peter had to be hungry by now. He knew he was.

"Yeah... sure."

Well, surprised as he is that Deadpool is taking the high road on this one, Peter’s not going to turn down a free snack.  The chocolate gets divided and he rolls up his mask, breath puffing in the cold.  He might not know everything about the mercenary, but poisoning doesn’t exactly seem to be the guy's M.O. so Pete figures there's no point in questioning the offer.  If Deadpool wanted you dead, more often than not he resorted to a more.. hands on.. approach.

"Hey, maybe this is a special occasion.  I don't think I've ever spent more than five minutes with you before some rando got their face kicked in.  Ignoring that whole senselessly-hammering-you-into-the-wall thing, uh.. sorry by the way.."  A little less contrite than he intended, but it'll do.  "... this is actually a refreshingly murder-free meet up."  He snaps off a brittle square with his teeth, raising the remainder in a brief salutation.  "I'll drink to that."

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

wwwdotmaximumeffort :

“Yeah! That’s what I was saying, a good time. Oh, wait - are you being true to your adolescentnature and throwing shade at me right now?”

Even though the atmosphere was one of cordial, chummy talk Wade felt like he was being… interviewed. Scrutinized. And not just for a news story. Sure, he could have blamed the hunk of swiss cheese that was his brain for being overly paranoid but there was something about Peter that made Wade feel like the photographer could see through a lot of his usual antics. That being chummy was still fodder for analyzation, genuine as it may have been.

Now, he wasn’t saying the kid wasn’t genuine. Somehow that didn’t seem to fit for somebody who watched you sashimi people and casually snapped pictures of it as if he was at your sister’s wedding. Peter was genuine - and he was simultaneously one step ahead.

“It’d look reeeal good on a resume,” he coaxed, dissolving into a chuckle as Peter terminated his interest as Head Deadpool PR Clean-Up Brigade. He figured the guy didn’t have much else going on. Come on - he was an artist.  Peter was just a nerdy, theater-esque kid with a camera working himself too hard for some corporate scum - at least to Wade. He didn’t know him as a building-scaling vigilante. And if he ever found out Wade would have patted his gut for feeling something amiss from the beginning. And then maybe ask him to web Al’s mouth shut.

The lights of the fire and the police cars back at the cargo lot was exchanged for harsher city ones, sending their shadows long and trailing behind them. “Too bad. You showed a lotta promise.”They may have been talking about a fictional scenario over PR that Wade didn’t even have at this point but the merc meant it in the bigger scheme of things as well. Peter made a promising… body that could occasionally walk next to him, shoot the shit, and be taken seriously.

What was that called again? A friend?

A snort followed. “That’s all? I can call you a few names to entice you, break some HR regulations.” His smile was crooked and outlined against his mask as he looked at the photographer side long. “How’d you get into pictures anyway? It’s more of a hobby that screams single lesbian trying to get her cats Instagram famous. Sidebar: can a single lesbian be referred to as one lesbia?”

Peter laughs.  Not so much because it's funny but really it's a little ridiculous to be getting career commentary from a guy who probably tries to claim illegal rifle mods as a credit-worthy business expense.  Okay, and maybe it was kind of funny.  Maybe. "Man.. 'hobby'.. I'd be offended if you were anyone else."  Wade's sidelong glance is returned with his own forward one, grinning.  "You know, someone who isn't dressed head to toe in some morbidly accessorized two-tone onesie."  Peter's tone is wry but something in his chest twists before he can veer away from it, the question conjuring memories he isn't prepared to recall.  He thinks about his first camera, the one Uncle Ben gave him when he was in grade school, a dusty hand-me-down Pentax with a sticky shutter.  Peter was so damn happy with it.  He cut his teeth sneaking that old heirloom everywhere, taking pictures of everything - The unremitting New York streets.  Old brownstones.  Birds.  Bugs.  People.  Sometimes the photos came out blurry, sometimes they didn't come out at all.. it was okay, his uncle kept encouraging him.  Kept telling him to love the city for what it was; beautiful, dense and diverse, the absolute center of the world.   It seemed important.   That felt like ages ago.  He's been through several cameras since, the old 35 millimeter long retired to his bookshelf years before the night Ben Parker was killed.  Even if the story wasn't exactly a happy one, Peter feels the aching urge to give credit where credit was due.   He opens his mouth to explain, but truth evades him. "How does anyone get into anything?  Some girl asks you to photograph her and bam, instant career."  Definitely a gross oversimplification but it's mercifully easier on the tongue than verbally acknowledging loss so Peter leaves it at that.  Plus, it wasn't exactly a lie.  MJ really did like having her picture taken.  Though to be fair, she liked it when anyone took her picture. "So how about you?"  He reins in his stride, slowing their return back through the populated urban sprawl.  Turns out Wade’s not terrible company after all.  "And I mean seriously, off the record and all that, so cut the shit.  How does a guy get into the morally grey, cash-compensated murder-game?  Why this..."  Peter gestures toward the the mercenary's arsenal of weaponry with two fingers, cutting an imaginary line from the gun holstered by Wade's thigh to the hardware sheathed at his shoulders and every weapon in between.  "... and not something less..  "  Immoral.  Shameless.  Wrong.  "... complicated." 

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

simplywadewilson :

“Wow. You really hurt me!” He exclaimed, gasping and placing the back of his hand on his forehead. The mercenary wasn’t sure if Peter was going to see through his lie but it looks like his question was answered. “Suit yourself.” And with that he pulled his phone back out, deciding to play the koi fish game again. The rain was still going on strong so who knew how long he’d be stuck here. And his battery was below the halfway line so he hoped he could leave sometime soon.

It’s not like he had anyone waiting for him at home. Save for some pasta he was planning on cooking once he got home.

Next thing he knew, he was shoved up against the brick wall, forearm pressed against his throat. “Choke me harder!” He teased with a rough, raspy voice, inhaling deeply once Peter let go of him. “Alright, I don’t know what the fuck that was for, but that was really hot and I gotta beat my meat if you catch my drift.” It was just a joke– or was it?

He backs away from Wade, giving the merc space as he catches his breath.  Shoulders slumped dramatically, the living embodiment of defeat, Peter watches the hail crash into the street, his hopes of getting home any time soon crashing with it.  It remains relatively safe and dry under the protection of the building's entrance, a fact that’s still not doing much for Peter's spirits.  Damn he really wasn't expecting this.  Yeah, they say the North East weather is unpredictable.. but rain, hail, AND Deadpool?  Great.  He puts his back to the wall and slides down into a sit.  

"I could beat your meat but my version would involve way more spinal fractures, way less naughty bits, and I promise you won't enjoy it half as much as you think you will."  From his position on the floor he knows his grumbling doesn’t carry quite the same weight as if he had said it face to face.  Peter’s past the point of caring.  He’s resolved to just sitting uncharacteristically quiet until the weather clears up but he spots Deadpool’s cell next to his foot, lying where it must have fallen after he went all Bruce Banner on the guy.  Feeling a pang of guilt, he picks up the phone and offers it back to Wade.

“Here.”

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

simplywadewilson :

Being defensive was how he had to be. He wasn’t well liked and he needed to be ready just in case anyone tried anything funny, like trying to bring him in. Not that it’d work. He knew his swords like he knew the back of his hand; he’d trained with them for so long that he saw Bea and Arthur as extensions of his own hands.

He took a moment to stare at the hero, the koi fish on his phone repeatedly swimming into the walls of the game and making him fail it several times. He didn’t make it too obvious either, but he just wanted to look at him. Doing team-ups with him was honestly the most fun thing he could do with anyone. It made him feel like he was desirable to be close to, something that he wouldn’t feel anywhere else with other people.

Now this felt like an interrogation. But he didn’t let it bother him. It was natural for the hero to try to figure out if the mercenary was going to be a threat or not today. “Pleasure. I’m actually supposed to meet someone for some super hot super rough sex.” He let the spider figure out whether or not that was a joke; knowing Wade, it totally was. “And afterwards, we’re making brownies. You’re free to come along and watch.”

Okay, so maybe he actually found the spider’s tone of voice sexy when he spoke just now. Wade straightened up and got out of the game, turning the screen off and placing his phone into one of his pockets. “Go ahead and try me, Spider-Twink. I won’t be gentle this time.”

"’Twink’? Oh I get it, coz I'm no heavyweight.  That's funny.  Hah. Hah. Hah."  Peter mock laughs, eyes of his mask staring.  It's a blank expression, unreadable as Peter weighs the pros and cons of actually having it out with Deadpool in public.  

It's not worth it.  If the mercenary wasn't here on a job then it really was none of his business what the guy was doing in the city.  Anyway, Peter had bigger fish to fry... like half-assing dinner and full-assing a term paper.

"Nah I'm good.  I'll leave you to your imaginary sex date.  I think I'd rather take my chances with the lightning."  Peter waves dismissively and turns to go.  He gets as far as two steps into the rain before something rock hard hits him in the back of the head, stopping him short.

“Seriously, Deadpool?”

Throwing stones now - so that's how it's going to be.  Well if the guy really wanted a fight that badly, okay.  Spider-man was more than happy to oblige.  Super speed and strength on his side, Peter wheels around and lunges at the merc.  He shoves him good and hard into the wall until there's a satisfying collision of body against brick.  It’s when he’s leaning in close to snarl an accusation, forearm driven tight against the man’s throat, that he’s stopped short by a shattering noise somewhere behind him.  Then an another, and another.. and oh crap, is that hail?  Peter swallows thickly, the fight draining out of his body faster than Quicksilver on ice.

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

simplywadewilson :

“Time to settle? The fuck do you take me for? Some average Joe with a possessive wife and two bratty ass kids?” Settling down was just something he could never see himself doing. At all. Growing old alone and yelling at clouds was more him. Besides, with that ugly mug of his, who’d even dare to get anywhere close to him? Peter was just here because 1) he was trapped here with him and 2) he’s never fully seen Wade’s face to know just how bad he had it. That’s it, nothing more.

He paused, trying to figure out who wore spandex and was married, both at the same time. “What about Reed Richards and Sue storm? They’re married, not with kids, but I’m sure they wear spandex suits.” Not like he paid attention to what type of fabric they were wearing. Plus they didn’t exactly like him, which meant they wanted to spend as less time as possible with him.

Wade shook his head. “Sure, if I’m an eleven year old squeaker who tells everyone I’m playing with that I fucked all their moms.” And almost all of the Call of Duty games had the exact same plot. He was more into games with cool, juicy stories, like Assassin’s Creed, or Bioshock. “Look, if you’re gonna give me a moral lecture telling me why killing is bad, then I don’t wanna hear it.”

Deadpool seems a little defensive all of a sudden and Peter wracks his brain to figure out how they went from talking mobile gaming to irritating the guy.  He honestly wasn't trying to offend, well.. okay sure, maybe 'kooky' was an underhanded jab, but the rest of the premise was the same joke Wade had basically thrown at him in the first place.  Wasn't the entire point that they couldn't settle down, even if they wanted to?

Peter Groans.  He's used to eating his words.  He was NYC's original motor-mouth long before Deadpool came sauntering into town from wherever morally-grey loose-cannons saunter from.  It was no small wonder none of the other heroes wanted to team-up with Spider-man.  Did he also expect the merc to be on that list?  Not really, but who knows.  Maybe the guy had more self-respect than Peter imagined.  He frowns, tracing back over their short conversation mentally.  He should probably apologize.  Just apologize and they can get back to shooting the shit with idle chit chat.

"Wow, you are taking me way too literally.  I wasn't going to give you a lecture, although hey if you'd like one we can take a moment and discuss why you are here in the first place.  Business or Pleasure, Wade?"  He rises from his position slowly, straightening to talk to the mercenary head on.  "'Coz if it is work and you are sticking with your out-dated Babylonian sense of morality, I am more than willing to introduce you to a little enlightened contemporary justice and kick your ass back a few centuries where you belong."  Tone amused, eyes narrowing.  He pulls the hem of his mask back into place.

Great.  Nice apology.  A+.

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

missgwenstacy : 

        Ha, faith? Yeah. Doesn’t feel like it. She blew out a breath, crossing her arms defiantly, “As surprising as it might seem, insane is kind of in the job description,” She knew she shouldn’t be so pissed off about it. He was just trying to look out for her, protect her. She knew they could both feel that mad buzz warning of danger. But she wasn’t going to let him hold her back, set her in time out like a little kid, “I’m going in there,” she was turned away, already starting towards the building. She spoke to him over her shoulder, her voice low with finality “I’m going in there, whether you’re coming or not.”

If there was a ever moment that reminded Peter that the Gwen standing defiantly in front of him was very much her own person, this was it.  Sharp and determined as ever, but the fearlessness?  Boldness?  It scares him half to death as much as it reassures him.  He studies her masked face for any hint of doubt, but even though he can't see her features he knows there is none.  She wasn't going to change her mind, that much was clear.  They were running out of time and yeah, Gwen knew it.  Damnit.  Cursing under his breath, he doesn't put up more of a fight, instead falling in line behind her.  Of course he was going.. he had made mistakes in the past, unforgivable mistakes.  He wasn't going to repeat them.

"Alright.. alright."  He settles in next to her as they approach the edge of the roof overlooking the warehouse, his tone evening out into quiet acceptance.  "We've got this.  I mean what's a few insurmountable odds in the daily life of a Spider-person.."  He smiles weakly, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach.

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

simplywadewilson :

That was a pretty simple comparison. “Zen Koi’s more aesthetically pleasing. And you know me, I’m all about the aesthetic.” That should’ve been obvious enough when he used dead bodies to spell out an enemy’s real name. Ah… good times. Surely Spidey’s heard of that along with information from the merc’s past, perhaps from S.H.I.E.L.D.

He snorted, amused with the bad luck in the spider’s life. “She’s a keeper. Did you at least put a ring on her finger before she ran off with your camera and money?” How did Spidey even meet shady ass people? Craigslist? Speaking of… “Last time I went on a date, the girlie ended up being a dude in his 50s who wanted to cut me up into pieces and sell me on Craigslist. Unluckily for him, karma bit him in the ass.” And by karma, he meant his swords.

“What? So you don’t have anyone waiting up for you at home? No kids either? How old are you anyway?” He seemed like a young man, old enough to live his own life. Wade honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he was married with kids at this point. Who wouldn’t want that with him? “Won’t they be worried about you staying out so late?”

"I dunno man, someone who is actually into all of your kooky parts and bits?  Might be time to settle."  He offers, tongue in cheek.  Peter has had his share of laughably awful dates, but at least they weren't that bad.  Around them the dark streets are empty, the weather too harsh for the cabbies and usual traffic that peppered the block.  Even the pigeons had vacated the area.  Smart birds.  He settles in against the wall and lets Wade's chatter distract him from the rain until the topic turns to family.

“Kids.. What?  How many guys do you know who dress in spandex and fight crime also manage to have a wife at home, nevermind kids?  I mean hell, look at Steve Rogers.  Not even Captain America can make it work.”  He runs a bare hand over his head, smoothing the mask back in place where it was clinging to his damp hair. “And don't even get me started on Stark.  If being New York City’s favorite playboy hero requires a prerequisite net worth in the billions, well, then we’re extra screwed.”  He sighs and rolls the mask up to his nose, the fabric feeling uncomfortable and stuffy while wet. 

Also uncomfortable?: Deadpool’s sudden interest in his personal life.  It’s not sitting well with Peter’s compulsion to keep his day identity separate, so he changes the subject back to games.

“I always kinda pegged you for a Call of Duty FPS kind of guy.  But I get it, I mean if your job is all snikkity snikt, why not enjoy a little zen in your downtime.”  Peter could commiserate with that.  Well, not the stabbing people part, but the desire to unwind? Sure. 

[howlisms-blog]

how i approach folks for plots :

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

(Cont’d from x @missgwenstacy)

"Jesus, Gwen... I have faith.  You know I have faith.. It's just.. I can’t... ," He struggles to find the words, arms outstretched, pleading. "This is insane...  I know I'm not the spokesperson for living carefully, I've done some pretty reckless things..." he tries for a lighthearted tone but it falls well short of convincing.  He's getting desperate now.  They could retreat, at least for a little while.  Return when they were healed, stronger, maybe even with a better plan.  Anything other than watching her run headfirst into a situation that had alarms buzzing up and down his spine.  He wants to reach out to her, grab her... hold her.. anything... as long it stopped her.  

".. but..  please, this fight... it's not going to end well."

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

simplywadewilson :

“You got that right.” He watched him drop down and take off his gloves, though in a subtle manner that made it look like he’d been staring down at his phone the whole time. It was surprising though, that Peter would drop down here instead of finding shelter elsewhere; he wasn’t hating the company, but it was just unexpected. He and the spider weren’t exactly besties, despite Wade’s best attempts to get closer to him.

The mercenary acted as if the game was taking up most of his attention, that being the main reason as to why he wasn’t talking so much. But then Peter asked him something and he perked up. “Don’t let your panties get into a twist, Spider-Twink. I’m playing Zen Koi. It’s a game where you’re a koi fish and you eat a bunch of mini fish.” Shit, he probably sounded like a lame ass fucktart. “It takes minutes to learn but this shit can keep you busy for hours. Almost like sex, except my dick is hibernating in my pants right now. Or does it want to come out and play?” Wade wiggled his brows at him, turning back to his phone. “What? You got a Tinder? I wouldn’t be surprised. Who wouldn’t swipe right for that bubble butt of yours?”

"Zen Koi.   Nice.  Sounds kinda like Agario but less trolling."  He settles into a comfortable position low on his haunches, ignoring the dick update.   Peter’s pretty sure Deadpool just likes to see what kind of reaction he can get out of his audience.  Everything seemed like an act to the guy.  Knowing when to turn a deaf ear to the merc was always a useful skill in his repertoire of occassional unwanted team-ups.  Plus, it was a little hard to take the guy's comments seriously when he knew he could snap the merc's neck like a twig if he ever felt so inclined.  No one would bat an eye.  It wouldn't even be considered killing.  

Okay, okay. He couldn’t actually do it.. probably... 

The Tinder comment pulls him out of his morbid day-dreaming.  He cranes his neck to the side to give the guy a skeptical look, "Yeah right.  I've got great luck with girls.  The last time I went on a date she stole my camera and eighty bucks out of my jacket.  That’s a good chunk of my paycheck.  Tinder?  Nah, I'm good."  Peter knows nothing screams loser more than 'broke and scrawny geek who hasn’t been laid in forever', but he's tired and wet and hey, it's Deadpool.  No point in putting on airs for a guy who once busted out a 'Shoruyken' on Kitty Pryde unironically.

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

(cont’d from x @simplywadewilson)

"Chaaarming."   Peter drops next to Wade, shaking off the excess water from his gloves and thoroughly regretting his earlier decision to patrol ahead of some pretty severe storm warnings.  Not making anything easier: his civvies are currently stashed somewhere four blocks east.  He could try to hoof it, but something about scrambling awning to awning in the red and blue just didn't seem right.  He had even tried to web his way back, but two near-death experiences later (courtesy of some truly Thor-level-of-impressive lightning) and he was scrambling for the low-ground anyway.  Waiting it out didn't seem so bad compared to being nuked mid-swing.  Now he's got some time to kill, what better a guy than Deadpool for the job?  The merc was good at killing.. time.

"So what are you playing?"  He asks idly, working the gloves back on.  It's not an easy task while they are wet so Peter gives up midway and tucks them half in half out of his waistband.  “.. Or am I interrupting tinder time?  ‘Coz oh, I’m not one to get between a guy and his swipe-right.”  He muses, watching the rain without actually making an effort to get up and move.

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

(cont’d from x @thcpuniiishcr)

"Oh, Frank.. Frank. Frank."  He tsks thoughtfully, evening out from his webline to the floor.   "Good to see you're still as friendly as ever."  Hands up, a gesture of peace, though he knows full well it doesn't stand for much in his present company.  No sign of danger yet.  He slowly straightens, adopting a casual posture.  He's... seventy percent sure the guy isn't going to actually shoot him, but you can never be too sure with The Punisher.  His senses stay on high alert.  It’s a good safeguard around trigger-happy gun-nuts.

"Maybe I was just looking for a little of that famous Castle congeniality."  His voice takes on an amused tone but the gun is still trained pointedly at his face, so Peter sighs and switches gears.  "... Okay... or...  maybe I was just following the same lead you were and this is just the another unpleasant coincidence in the long string of unpleasant coincidences that is my life."  He's tempted to web the gun away, but better judgement gets the best of him and he decides against it.  No point in starting World War III with Castle over one of his 'toys' during a stake out.  

"So.. "  The ceiling is leaking and there's a distinct smell of woodrot permeating the room, "... this is nice.... "

[iblamethatguy]

Underground }}Open{{

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

iblamethatguy :

  Wade grinned down at the kid shaking his head. He slumped his head back and waved off to Alex that slowly came to a roll in the middle of the dam. “I might like a little head knocking, so long as I get to be curly,” He winked down at him.   Wade leaned forward and groaned. He looked down at his side furthest from Peter and saw that he had been stabbed in the ribs and it was staining the shirt he had tossed on. He reached for one of the bags and shoved it over to him. “You must be new to the whole mutant thing, people will rip you apart for cheating in the underground. You want money, take it, but you sure you don’t want a ride home?” He grinned at the little water river running in the middle of the dam they were parked by.   Wade reached over, pulled the knife out from his side slowly. It was had made, dirty, not good for wounds like that. Wade looked it over and tossed it over his shoulder letting his wound bleed out slowly.

Peter dismisses being mislabeled as a mutant, it’s not the first time and certainly won’t be the last.  The money, though, is a little more difficult to let go of.  He knows deep down it wouldn’t be right to accept it, but damn if it wasn’t tempting.  Finally, after a brief internal struggle, the guy’s grin is returned with a sour look and Peter slides the bag back across the seat towards it’s owner.  “Thanks but I don’t need your charity.  And I don’t need a ride.  I’ve got it covered.”  He goes to open the door and one look out the jeep’s backseat window stops him short.  A dam!?  Exactly how far out of the city had that old geezer driven them?  He can’t recognize a single landmark.  

“You know what on second thought, I’ll take you up on that offer... Just get me to Queensboro Plaza.. or any station, I don’t care... and we’ll uh, call it even for you playing whackamole with my face.”  His sneer withers into a frown at the sight of the bloodied knife.  The guy doesn’t seem too concerned about the wound so Peter tries to move past it, eyeing the man suspiciously.  He had saved his ass earlier but Peter’s still finding it a little hard to be completely gracious under the circumstances.  His mask is now half pasted to his face with clotting blood and he’s pretty sure he’s going home with nothing but a concussion for his new cash-grab endeavor.  Yeah, it’s been a pretty disappointing evening.

[iblamethatguy]

Underground }}Open{{

[spiderbiteblues-blog]

iblamethatguy : 

“We dont have time kid,” Wade came storming up next to him, he tightly wrapped his arms around him and shoved Peter into a corner. People ran by them both in a shouting match.“You get caught here, just once, and they will skin you, one finger nail at a time,” He whispered.   “Wade, it’s ready,” Another man’s voice whispered.   “Did you get the bags?” Wade asked, hearing a grunt. “Alright, let’s go.” He picked Peter up again, tossing him over his shoulder and quickly moved what happened to be down steps. As soon as they went all the way, a dim light was seen of the dome lights on a jeep. Wade tossed him into the back of it and jumped in as Alex turned it on letting it roar to life. Two bags were tossed onto the floor next to Peter and Wade.    The older man Alex reversed the jeep down what appeared to be an old sewer line that lead to the drain pipe in the middle of the city. They hit the ground into a night sky and Wade would relax back against the padding of the jeep. He slowly would start to laugh shaking his head. “You are one lucky kid.”

“So... Yeah...  okay then... You going to pull over and let me out? Or do I have to start yelling ‘Stranger Danger!’ and tuck-n-roll my way to freedom?"  The fog in his head is slowly starting to lift and Peter's becoming increasingly aware of the situation.  What he finds, he does not like.  He’s in a vehicle he can’t identify, and worse.. the guy from the ring is sitting next to him looking for all world like the cat who ate the canary.  

Peter kind of wants to smack that smug look off his face.  

Instead he gingerly puts pressure on the bridge of his his nose, trying to stave off the blood where the guy had broken it.  It'll heal normal, but the adrenaline that kept him going earlier has long worn off.  Now the pain is ebbing in, leaving him feeling worn out.  Tired and confused.. ready for the night to be over.

"... First, I want you both to listen closely to this, the next time one of you picks me up and carries me all over like a rag doll, I’m going to start knocking heads around like this is a bad Three Stooges skit.  You hear me, Eastwood?”  Peter indicates to the older man behind the wheel, raising his voice over the revving engine to be sure he's heard.  It's hard to sound intimidating when you are sporting a fractured nasal cavity but Peter hopes he gets the point across regardless.

“Second, I don’t think the word ‘lucky’ has ever been used to describe anything even remotely related to my life.  A fact that definitely applies to tonight, because seriously... and I'm saying this with all sincerity and heart... What The Ever-Loving-Shit Is Happening???”