opticular: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ (003)
𝓢cott 𝓢ummers ⨂ 𝙲𝚈𝙲𝙻𝙾𝙿𝚂 ([personal profile] opticular) wrote2025-06-04 11:55 pm
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"This is Scott Summers. Leave a message after the tone."
primepool: ([la] 039)

[personal profile] primepool 2026-05-06 07:06 am (UTC)(link)
[Oh my god.

Why does everyone keep calling him a clown? Clowns are scary. Wade's fun and delightful. They're --

Wade's hairless browbones raise in surprise.]
I gave good advice? [He definitely does not remember doing that. When was that? What did he say? Oh, shit. If there was a quiz on the end of his conversations, he would absolutely fail.] I am Deadpool, dick, and you can kinda see there's a reason I got a mask.

[Oh, wait. How could he forget? Mr. Hollywood over here couldn't imagine it on his worst day.

Shit. He's not here to bicker. But honestly, that'd be easier. He already feels like he's got bile in his throat.]
Listen. I'm not here to be a bitch. This time. [And he doesn't really care if Scott talks to him after this, now he's made the connection or whatever. (Really no idea how that happened. Wade's always Wade.)] I had something to tell you. It's --

[His hands ball up into fists on his knees, his whole body as tight as a cougar about to freefall off a cliff. He doesn't want to say it, 'cause every time he does, it's more real.] Cable's gone. And I figure he'd want you to know.
Edited (please forgive me for losing this tag ;;;;) 2026-05-06 07:07 (UTC)
primepool: ([la] 189)

[personal profile] primepool 2026-05-12 04:23 am (UTC)(link)
[Yeah, he sort of suspected it was gonna go like this. Mr. Captain X-Man doesn't like making things easy. And he likes to think he's the only one hurt by bad shit that happens around him.

He cannot give shit to Nate's dad. He cannot. Not right now.

So he's gonna repeat it like a mantra in his head to the beat of Stayin' Alive, if only to keep himself sane.]


I've looked everywhere. I asked Charles. And I didn't fucking need to, Scott. I didn't need to look for him, 'cause I felt it. Like he tore a part of me out and took it with him. [He's staring at the floor where his boot is digging into it hard enough he could crack it, if he wanted. He wants to. He still wants to destroy something, anything, everything, knowing it won't make anything better, but it will make him feel worse. And sometimes, that's a pleasure of it's own. Feeling as sick as he should.] He's gone. And I know he'd want me to tell you.

[He stops, pulls his body back together. Wade pulls out something in a bag he'd tossed carelessly on the couch, wrapped up in a (relatively) clean shirt. He holds it out, cooling off. Forcing himself to cool off.

It's definitely a gun. A large hand cannon of a gun, customized down to the sight, the barrels. Completely undecorated, as was Cable's way, utilitarian to a fault. It's like the personified version of him. He left behind a lot, but Wade made sure to pick one that really... felt like him.]
He made it. I figured you might want something of his.