#wade has his never-ending lost of pet names for logan

[mischievous-thunder]

Logan: One of the best pet names I've ever been called is Lolo.

Logan: I'm not going to admit that I love it so much that it makes me soft and tingly.

Logan: And no, I'm not going to disclose who calls me by that either.

Wade, hugging Logan from behind excitedly: I call him Lolo!

[itneveroccurredtomeatall]

Random snippets from Poolverine fics that are in the works

I 100% failed kinktober this year for a variety of reasons and ended up with just one fic, but I did start several other ones (so maybe that counts for something?)

We have:

-something inspired by the Platform movie (this feels like it would be on the longer side)

-something where Wade accesses a TVA monitor and sees different versions of him & Logan (probably shorter)

-something that combines Gutenberg! The Musical! and Poolverine (this is definitely ridiculous and not sure who the audience is for this other than me, but if you are also super into Gutenberg & Poolverine, please reach out!!!!!! Also, I've tried to think about what an actual Gutenberg fic would look like for months but haven't managed to come up with anything yet)

-something where Wade keeps trying to tell Logan he loves him but things go really wrong (until one day they start going really right)

And then there's all the planned kinktober ones I never finished, but hopefully I'll finish some those eventually and also get to some of these!

Snippets below:

Something inspired by the Platform movie When Logan woke up, the first thing he noticed was just how uncomfortable he was. His back was aching, and he didn’t have to wonder why. He could feel his weight pressing down on the metal bars through the thin mattress.

He had known prison, much less the Pit, wasn’t meant to be comfortable, but he had hoped for a little more than this.

Then again, he deserved worse.

He groaned as he sat up, the bed’s creaks echoing the creaking in his joints.

“Well, good morning, sleepy head! Or should I say afternoon? Or evening? You know, it’s pretty dark down here 24/7 and I’ve completely lost track of time, so let’s keep it simple and stick with good morning.”

Logan snapped his gaze in the direction of the voice and found his cellmate sitting cross-legged on an identical bed on the opposite side of the room. A large, square gap in the floor separated them.

“Don’t tell me your name or your food, I’m gonna guess.”

Logan had never been a morning person, which meant he was far too groggy to protest.

“Let’s see. Your personal item is,” the man leaned forward, his bed groaning unhappily under his shifting weight, “brass knuckle claws? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, pretty kitty.”

Something where Wade accesses a TVA monitor and sees different versions of him & Logan

The thing about Wade is he can’t help himself. He never has been. Not that he has really tried all that hard.

So, when he’s left unattended in the TVA and explicitly told to, “Sit. Stay. Don’t look at the monitors,” he stands, walks across the room to get a better view, and stares at the fucking monitors because he really wants to know why Thor was crying.

Only that blond hunk of Asgardian God isn’t on any of the monitors. Instead, nearly every screen shows him and Logan. Well, different versions of them. Their multi-verse selves.

There’s one where they’re both drinking at the same bar sitting right next to each other but don’t seem to know each other. Wade hopes the other version of him goes home, realizes what he’s missed out on, and posts on Craigslist Missed Connections.

Then, there’s the one where they’ve got wings. Like actual fucking angel wings. Only Wade’s are cancer-ridden, judging by the looks of them, and Logan’s are going gray. And he’s not gonna lie, it’s kind of hot. They’re fighting in this universe, too. Only it’s at least four times as cool because they’re doing it mid-flight.

Apparently, there’s a universe where they’re both… cats? (And not like those cute pet kitties you find in a box on the side of the road and beg your mother to let you keep. They’re closer to Andrew Lloyd Weber nightmare fuel cats.) And they’re tussling in an alleyway. They’re feral and kind of hideous, and Wade appreciates that, for once, he and Logan are equally unattractive.

But what really catches his eye is the one where they’re them — and they're making out. It’s hot and heavy, but also surprising sweet.

And, yeah, he touches himself that night.

Again, he can’t help himself.

Something that combines Gutenberg! The Musical! and Poolverine

Schlimmer was a shitty place, to be honest.

Wade knew it. Honestly, everyone knew it.

It was right there in the name. Worse.

It was filthy. Full of dirty floors, large rats, and thatched roofs.

And the people weren’t much better than their dreary surroundings.

Beef Fat Trimmer would never shut his goddamn mouth about trimming the fat off the beef. Doctor had never saved a life in his life. Bootblack and Daughter had some weird relationship going on. Wade couldn’t quite pinpoint what was off with them, but there was definitely something wrong there. Another Woman was a major gossip.

And Blind Al. Well, Blind Al was alright sometimes, he supposed. But she was old, blind, cranky, and, quite often, very high on cocaine. (To be fair, Wade was also regularly very high on cocaine.)

In Wade’s opinion, the only thing worth a damn in Schlimmer was Logan.

Yes, Logan was technically his boss. But what’s a little inter-wine-press-shop romance in the 1400s?

Something where Wade keeps trying to tell Logan he loves him but things go really wrong (until one day they start going really right)

The next time, they were walking down the street side by side snacking on hot dogs (kinda Freudian, if you ask him). The sun was just starting to set, and the way it splashed across Logan’s face as he devoured his hot dog in a few short bites made Wade’s stomach clench.

“Hey, Logan. I think I—”

And because the universe hates him and they were strolling around in New York City with street cart hot dogs, a group of pigeons flew overhead. One nearly beamed him with its wings. Then, one actually clipped his hot dog with its wings, knocking it to the dirty concrete. And another shit directly on his fucking head.

Moment. Ruined.

But he’s not even particularly mad about that because the bark of laughter Logan had let out when he’d realized what had happened still plays through Wade’s mind every now and then.