#muse: Deadpool

[askrockandfriends]

"What next, Sega? Fox? Shonen Jump? Are we gonna have to go against a League of Shitty Corporations?"

[skullhub]

MUSE PROFILE: Wade Wilson/Deadpool (E- [REDACTED])

Name: Wade Wilson

Age: 31

Pronouns: He/Him, They/Them

Height: 6'2"

General Alignment: Chaotic good

General personality: Cocky, Loud-mouthed, Self-destructive, Flirtatious, Annoying, Comedic, Impulsive, Goes overboard sometimes, Extremely talkative, Very caring deep down.

Family: Unnamed Father, Unnamed Mother, Princess (Adopted symbiote daughter)

Home: New York City, New York, E- [REDACTED]

Backstory: Wade "Merc with a mouth" Wilson due to his former condition had dealt with memory loss and conflicting memories of his past. Being unable to recall much of his childhood due to the big gaps that have yet to still be filled in. His adult years he remembers as clear as day however, from the day he was diagnosed with cancer, his failed mercenary work with various government agencies, and the superhuman enhancement project that made him immortal and being put in hospice after being rejected from the program.

It was a gruesome few years for Wade as he couldn’t get a moments rest even when he was in the equivalent of a retirement home for failed genetically enhanced mercenaries that was secretly a torture house. It had gotten to the point where Wade's only solace was the time between when he would take his "final" breath and when his regenerative healing factor would kick in and pull him out of death's realm. He almost considered committing suicide just to be with death for longer, disregarding his own life and safety because he had nothing really to live for in his life. Seeing no use in really trying anything anymore considering he was set to suffer for however much time he has left.

After having needed to end his friend's suffering after the head of Hospice rendered him almost completely braindead, Wade was executed for breaking the rules and had his heart ripped out of his chest. Only having chosen to regenerate out of spite for the man who tortured him and forced Wade to have to kill his friend. Staging a riot in Hospice and freeing everyone all whilst he killed the man who made him suffer for months on end by shooting him dead with his signature pistols.

Currently he now has worked under a multitude of contracts as a mercenary for hire, got involved during secret wars, hopped dimensions and eventually started forgetting what his own home used to look like as he bounced from state to state, and dimension and dimension in order to earn his keep. Existing as an anomaly in every sense of the word.

Extra Info: Wade will break the fourth wall often given the opportunity due to his self awareness. It often freaks people out more than usual.

Deadpool adopted princess after he was used as an incubator for the symbiote dog, she literally ate him from the inside out during the incubation process but he still loves her like his very own child (despite how much scarring Princess left him with.)

Deadpool has an irrational fear of cows.

Wade cannot accept any form of cure for his cancer due to how his regeneration worked, with how quickly his healing factor replaces his cells if his cancer gets cured his body will become infested with growths until he explodes and permanently dies.

Deadpool's healing ability actually makes him immune to telepaths due to his constant healing. His healing is also the result of his instability and violent outbursts.

Wade’s blood can actually be used to heal other people in small doses and expand their lifespans beyond natural limits.

Wade is actually multilingual and despite how forgetful he is he still retained his knowledge of certain languages. Wade knows how to speak Esperanto, German, Japanese and Spanish.

[sinfulrockandfriends]

"Heard a few boys were trying a challenge. Hope I'm not too hot for you~"

And just like that, Deadpool, Ren, and Ryuji were knocked out of the challenge... and wondering who this strange girl is.

[mischievous-thunder]

Bonus:

[askrockandfriends]

Just then, another song hit in the arena, and a... certain money grubber came out to fight.

"Time-a to show you chumps how a real fighter does it! It's-a Wario time!" Wario rode down the ramp on his motorcycle and jumped into the ring, flexing and going after Sol. Throwing him into Saitama, he then shoulder bashed him and spiked him with a piledriver!

"And... now Wario's in this. Great."

He wasn't the only one. Another theme hit, and a fearsome-looking Japanese man slowly walked down to the ring, surveying the fight at hand.

"What a fucking joke. You want a real fight, fatty? I'll give you a real fight!" The man then climbed into the ring and engaged Wario with a hard-hitting, though unrefined Brawler fighting style.

"Hey hey! Kiryu's in this now!" Another guy seemingly from the same universe shouted.

"Wait, was Majima always here?" Ingrid pondered watching the fight. But nothing could have prepared anyone for... him to make his appearance...

As images of bats flying and other imagery invoking darkness and the night flashed on the titantron, the classic track played out, and the Bat-symbol shown on screen. As it hit its peak, the Dark Knight himself, Batman, appeared on stage and rushed the ring, taking on both Kiryu and Wario by himself using his expert martial arts prowess!

"Hey, it's Batman!" Rock was glad now to have someone to finally root for.

"Fresh off his stint in The Flash starring he-who-shall-not-be-named... little late to the party, eh, Ben? Or is it Micheal? Ah, who the hell knows with these Batman actors? Especially when the icons are of cartoon Batman - you know what? We'll say he's Kevin. That should be a plenty easy choice."

"I'd say your choice seems plenty reasonable enough. There's also a few parks we can hang out at. Even stuff like tennis courts, a soccer field, a running track..." Anzu listed down various sport activities that were available to do around the school.

Idea: Changing up from the fridge terror/epicness of the group's struggle to survive in the Tragedy, branch off from the timeline of events and transport them to a school in a parallel dimension where anyone can show up at any time! This is Multimuse Cluster*@#%!

//The most ambitious crossover of 2023 lmao. It sounds fun! I don't have too many muses that aren't in the Danganronpa fandom if that's alright

[brizie-doodles]

Been stalling on posting but s/o to @ask-spiderpool 's lovley Anita and Peter...they are everything 💖💖💖

[pigeonneaux]

I hear you call my name (and it feels like home)

[captin-azoth]

IIII HAVE BRAINROT~

Doot da doot DOOT DOOT

I HAAAVE BRAINROT~

BA BAM

[stevengrcnt]

#needthat

[askrockandfriends]

"Oh, and by the way... fuck Disney! Woopwoopwoopwoopwoopwoopwoopwoop!"

[sinfulrockandfriends]

"Holy shit, it's like a fucking nude mod up in here! Can you imagine the possibilities that an 'always naked' AU brings?"

"Nude fighting!"

"Nude school life."

"Nude Pokemon battles!"

"Nude treasure hunting! Wahahaha!"

"And of course... spreading despair. Naked."

"And traumatizing the followers with horrific mental images! See, naked Wario. And naked myself. How about naked Goh, Ghetsis, or Homer Simpson?"

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

I’ve been replaying the Monster Prom games recently, and I’ve been trying to decipher why I find the meta-humor in those games funny, even charming. Normally meta-humor is one of the biggest turn-offs for a show or game for me. It’s one of the main reasons I stopped watching Rick and Morty after season 3. But, after some thought, I think I’ve finally figured it out.

With the Monster Prom games, the Meta-Humor never seems to come off as the characters hating their genre. Rather, they revel in it. Polly cracks jokes about you having to choose between two equally insane options instead of doing what any rational being would do in that situation. Aaravi gleefully enjoys being an RPG Protagonist in a Dating Sim. You can romance the fucking Narrator. And all of this is enjoyable because, while the characters are aware of the fact that they’re in a video-game, they act in good-humor and enjoy their lives all the same.

Most meta-humor seems to come from the characters resenting the genre they’re in. They joke about how much they hate the dumb story and how contrived it is. It’s always an eye-roll at the camera and it just gets tiresome. Rick and Morty feels like a slog to get through because the characters hate the story itself as well as each other. It just gets fucking tiring.

Deadpool makes jokes about how silly a superhero universe is, but he’s also giddy when he sees Juggernaut and eagerly points out superhero tropes that he enjoys. West of Loathing’s meta-jokes and arguments between player and narrator are charming and part of the fun. Because they all come from a place of genuinely enjoying the genre they’re a part of.

I dunno, just something I wanted to talk about. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go date Vera again.

[apicelladonna]

(Ferte in noctem animam meam) Grindeldore one shot, post HBP.

Dumbledore’s steps were slow, each one a battle against the searing pain that coursed through his withered body. The blackened, necrotic flesh of his right hand, throbbed like Greek fire kissed it. He felt the corruption spreading further now, creeping up his his upper torso and nearing the place where he thought his heart would be.

The gates of Nurmengard loomed before him, a once-proud fortress now decayed in the shadow of its former master. He stepped through it, the scent of rot heavy in the air. Dead Aurors and house-elves littered the courtyard, victims of the final assault of the dark lord's quest for answers.

The war had turned, its tides sweeping away what little hope had once flickered. Now, that hope rested on the shoulders of the young. All of them carrying the burden of a world too heavy for a hopeful future.

Each step up the spiral staircase was torture. His breath rattled in his chest, and his vision blurred with pain. But still, he climbed. He knew what awaited him at the top. He knew why he had come.

The door to the tower was ajar. Tom had been here.

He paused for a moment, his weary mind spinning through the possibilities. Tom Riddle had sought out the only other dark wizard who had once held the Elder Wand.

Gellert.

He had come for answers, but he would have found none. Albus knew this because he knew Gellert Grindelwald better than anyone alive.

In his arrogance, his pride, his twisted sense of loyalty, Gellert would never have divulged the truth. Not to Tom. Not to anyone.

And now Albus no longer held the wand. Its allegiance had shifted—first to Draco Malfoy, and who knows where after. Perhaps Voldemort had realized this. Perhaps that was why he had left Gellert like this.

Dumbledore stepped through the doorway into the tower room.

Gellert lay crumpled on the cold stone floor, his thin prison robes hanging limply over his wasted frame. His once-vibrant eyes, those piercing mismatched eyes Albus had known so well, were vacant now, staring at nothing.

He was a hollow shell, a body left to rot where it had fallen. Tom Riddle had not even afforded him the dignity of a final word, a final glance.

Albus took a shaking breath, his heart breaking in a way it hadn't in decades. Gellert. The boy he had loved. The man who had turned into his greatest enemy. And now this—just another casualty of a war that had stretched over lifetimes.

With every ounce of strength he had left, Dumbledore knelt beside him. Pain shot through his body, but he ignored it, his focus solely on Gellert. Gently, he took the rigid, lifeless body in his arms, lifting him so that Gellert could sit upright against the stone wall. The old wizard’s hands shook as he closed Gellert’s eyes, those once-bright eyes that had seen so much of the world’s wonder and darkness alike.

There were no words. What could he say? No eulogy would ever be enough for the complicated, tragic life of Gellert Grindelwald. He had been a visionary and a tyrant, a lover and a monster. And now, he was gone.

No one would come to mourn him. No one would check on the man who had once threatened the very fabric of the magical world. In the midst of another wizarding war, with Voldemort's shadow creeping ever closer, Gellert Grindelwald was just another body, forgotten in the chaos.

And Albus—Albus would soon be another as well.

He leaned back against the cold stone wall, his cursed hand resting limply in his lap. The pain was unbearable now, the curse nearly overtaking his entire body.

But for this moment, there was peace. There, in the silence of the highest tower, with the dead all around, he could rest.

Beside the man he had once loved. Beside his heart.

Beside Gellert.

The world could wait a little longer as Albus closed his eyes, resting on the other wizard's shoulder.

[jadevine]

Deadpool and Wolverine musings, Part 1 - On Deadpool knowing he’s Deadpool, the Worst Wolverine, and a Hero That Never Was: How the theme of failure in "Deadpool And Wolverine" hits too close to home for another would-be actor.

--- So now that I've processed Deadpool and Wolverine, it really hurts to see the theme of failure and being “the one who’s WATCHING people be awesome” woven through the story. You probably know someone like me, dear readers. I have big dreams, but no big friends or big bank account to pull them off.

The Deadpool franchise’s nature as a self-aware side of the Marvel Universe folds painfully into my own experiences as an artist.

As usual for Deadpool, the start of the movie is a wild ride: We open on him desperately digging up Wolverine’s grave from the end of “Logan,” because Deadpool needs Wolverine’s help--and he’s in serious denial that Wolverine died. Turns out that yes, he did. And Deadpool ends up fighting some furious Time Variance Authority soldiers… with Logan’s decaying skeleton. To the hilariously unfitting song of “Bye Bye Bye” by NSYNC.

Millennials, we can feel old now. I remember when NSYNC was rolling out their CDs in the early 2000s, and when I decided I was too cool for NSYNC anymore, I threw that shit away. Apple is now laughing at me for buying this one song again, twenty years later.

We then get plunged into an explanation of why Deadpool is desperate for Logan’s help, and boy howdy, does he need HELP.

--

Wade and Vanessa started having relationship issues between Deadpool 2 and this movie, so he tried to sign up for the Avengers to give his life purpose. In his interview with Happy Hogan (HELLO, SIR, IT’S GREAT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!!! WADE, SHUT UP ABOUT HAPPY BEING A CHAUFFEUR!!!), Wade says he wants to be an Avenger because “he needs it.” Why? Deadpool sure loves the battles that the Avengers are known for, but I don’t think he wants to be an Avenger JUST for violence or glory. There’s one MORE thing that the Avengers are known for: Being friends. And with it, being LOVED.

The running theme in Deadpool’s movies is his nagging insecurity and loneliness. In the comics and movies alike, he is constantly trying to join the X-Men or the Avengers, but his main problem is… Deadpool himself! You are your own worst enemy, as the saying goes.

He’s ruthlessly good at killing, loves his gallows humor, and he’s reckless as hell. The usual expression that someone’s weird/crazy is “having a wire (or a few wires) loose,” but Deadpool’s like an electric rat-king of jumbled wires. (A cash register at my work has one of those bad boys. I am constantly worried if it’s okay.) Later in the movie, Wolverine thinks Deadpool has ADHD because of how insufferably chatty he is, and while Deadpool’s constantly called “crazy” because other characters just don’t like him, fan speculations and writer depictions abound on what KIND of mental disorder he might have.

As TV Tropes would put it, Deadpool is “The Friend Nobody Likes.” Other heroes tolerate him because he’s skilled, but not many LIKE HIM. And he is all too aware of it, especially in the films, so by the time of Deadpool and Wolverine, he WANTS to be a hero.

As I mentioned before, he says to Happy that he NEEDS to be an Avenger.

But Happy tells him, “The Avengers don’t do the job because they need it, they do the job because people need THEM. Understand the difference?”

Many Avengers fans understand the core of the Avengers, and of the superhero genre as a whole.

I did not miss the shots in Happy’s office of notable objects in the main Marvel Cinematic Universe--and maybe Wade was looking at them, too. We call those “Easter eggs” because people will scour the film for them.

-Tony’s very first heart reactor, with the engraving of “Proof that Tony Stark has a heart.”

-One of Captain America’s old shields.

-Old pieces of Iron Man’s armor.

-A photo of Tony himself and Peter Parker.

Then comes the hurt-y part: “Please, Mr. Hogan, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life like an annoying one-trick pony.” Ouch, Wade. I am all too familiar with the sense of failure, and feeling like I annoy everyone by existing.

So Happy says to Wade, “The problem might be that you’re reaching a little too high. Aim for the middle and you’ll never miss. I think you got a good heart, I believe what you’re saying, but not everyone’s the world-saving type. Shoot for the middle and you’ll never miss.”

And after he’s rejected, Wade officially breaks up with Vanessa. WHY, motherfuckers?! THEY ARE MY POWER COUPLE!

So with no Vanessa and no Avengers, Wade becomes increasingly insecure/depressed, and he leaves the Deadpool work behind and takes a car-sales job with his former X-Force teammate Peter to pay the bills. If that is not an allegory for the constant misery of being an artist who doesn’t know anyone important, and doesn’t have the money to make knowing important people EASIER, I don’t know what is.

I spent years trying to get people to read my novel drafts on Wattpad so I can get them cleaned up and published for real, and then I could be a REAL FUCKING WRITER. And that wore me out, because I’m not a marketer and I’m already introverted. I spent years not being able to afford updated headshots to audition for shows, so I could finally be a REAL FUCKING ACTOR and do something that wasn’t a college production… but after I finally got new headshots, guess what happened? I’M STUCK AT MY DAY-JOB TO GET MONEY.

While I’m trying to be a real fucking actor and a real fucking novel writer, I’ve combined them into an unholy sandwich, by writing a superhero story that deconstructs the idea of “who gets to be called a hero, and who’s just a gangster/vigilante?” It involves the Tagalog deities being stuck in California as undocumented immigrants.

I feel like I asked every Filipino theater I know of about workshopping this script or giving it a reading or two when the draft is done. Like, I’m Filipino-American and I’m writing about Filipino mythology and Asian-American superheroes--I don’t expect people to spring a whole production onto the stage when I say go, but surely people would want to check my script out or keep tabs on me? Something to get the ball rolling?

But that involves having GOOD luck, and I don’t seem to have any. The theaters who bothered to answer me say it sounds cool, but they don’t have the resources, or how this script is expensive to pull off, so I’ll need to find someone willing to take a risk and fund my production.

I wanted to fucking laugh at those folks, because that means THEY’RE not willing to risk things for me. I want to laugh because if I don’t, I’m gonna murder something.

As Deadpool said in his very first movie: "Fake laugh, hiding real pain."

PEOPLE SAY THEY CAN’T AFFORD ME? WHEN I SPENT YEARS HUMILIATING MYSELF, ASKING IF SELFIES WERE OKAY TO USE FOR AUDITIONS, BECAUSE I COULDN’T AFFORD TO UPDATE MY THEATER HEADSHOTS?

This one time, I could have gone to Canada for a writing conference. It was about how Filipinos and the Filipino diaspora use their culture and spirituality as inspiration for their work. I sent them an email about my poetry and writing, and I didn’t really think they’d answer me, so I was pleasantly surprised when someone DID answer, and they thought my work sounded beautiful!

But then they said I’d have to get to Canada, pay the attendance fee, find a hotel and get from a city (either Toronto or Ottawa) to the buttfuck wilderness of a regional park, where the conference was actually being HELD.

So I said (politely), “Oh, I didn’t realize you wanted to hold a conference in Canada, but had no way to… GET NON-LOCAL SPEAKERS TO THE CONFERENCE. I figured you’d be handling at least some of the costs. I won’t be able to go, then.”

One of my friends, bless her heart, started a GoFundMe on my behalf. It went nowhere, so neither did I, but she tried. Another of my friends said it felt really messed up that they wanted me to pay the attendance fee AS A SPEAKER.

In my only bout of less-bad luck, I submitted some angry decolonizing poetry about the Tagalog gods to a show halfway across the state, and the team absolutely loved it… but that was before I had updated headshots. When the recent Facebook memories with a photo of the brochure showed up, I got to see my fucking Facebook selfie smack in the middle of everyone else’s nice, professional headshots, and that really stings.

I wish I was like Deadpool, and I had some time-traveling friends to go back and replace it with one of my REAL headshots. But I can’t spend all my time cringing, so I’m not only writing my stories, but saving up to pay 50-100 actors for a table reading.

I GET ONE SHOT AT GETTING MY SCRIPT OFF MY LAPTOP AND INTO THE WORLD. ONE SHOT THAT’S GONNA HURT MY BANK ACCOUNT. MAXIMUM EFFORT IS MY STATE’S MINIMUM HOURLY WAGE, MOTHERFUCKERS.

And that’s probably going to be my only shot. I don’t know anyone in theater professionally, because I never got a chance to WORK WITH anyone professionally.

For my script, I have three or five Filipino actor “friends” (more like acquaintances) whose shows I’ve watched a few times, so I told them how I have a superhero script that I’d love to get a reading for when the first draft’s finished, and I will pay everyone for a table reading in a couple months. And if they have ten or fifteen more friends of varying ethnicities, please ask them if they think my script sounds cool as well.

I hope I didn’t sound too desperate.

I try not to outwardly beg, but I don’t have a good gauge on that. I was the only Filipino in my theater class for years, so I never knew how to TALK about my extremely Filipino-oriented urban-fantasy, or if my stuff was ACTUALLY good or just weird. I went to open mics for a short but lovely few months, before I had to stop.

I couldn’t even afford MONTHLY TRIPS to read my work. Not only for no pay, but I had to pay AN ENTRY FEE and deal with the parking in this driving hellhole of a state. And then being a BROKE Filipino who still lives with my mom and works in food service? I always feel like I’m begging for scraps of attention.

I love art.

I love making art.

But with so many things depending on who you know--whether you can afford to go to shows, or go to school, or go to parties so you can FIND people to know--art really makes you feel shitty and poor sometimes.

My friends and about twenty or so Wattpad reviewers like my work, and they say I’m a great writer. It always makes me feel nice.

But when I try to get someone IN POWER, someone with MONEY, to check out my work and say the same things, that’s where I start feeling like Wade in the Avengers Tower--so close to the heroes I’ve heard about my whole life, seeing the things they use, the photos of people they love--and begging the doorman to let me be a hero, too.

[flor4de4amor]

this song is so logan core

[evadewilson]

i have a love/hate relationship with the way wade’s genuine, overt sensitivity is overlooked by the hetero side of the fandom because on one hand *grabs them by the collar and shakes them incredibly hard* YOU ARE MISUNDERSTANDING MY FAVOURITE BOY. but on the other hand. feels like the sensitive, crybaby, feelings-hurt side of wade is something special and sacred that belongs to us, in our fanfiction and gorgeously crafted deadpool fan art ONLY.