whattheactualass - Tumblr blog

[whattheactualass]

always got the vibe that nate has the sort of personality thats comforting for someone as chaotic as wade to have around, even if he’s a mess too. which he is for the record. also i just wanted to draw the costumes from split second because they were really good and bearded nate was a look honestly 

[whattheactualass]

OHHH MY GODDD it’s been ages since you and cablesummerss were on my dash!!!! I missed you guys!! 😭😭😭 welcome back!!! 💕💖💝

{ 

HELLO MY SWEET BEAUTIFUL LITTLE ANON! Thanks for the sweet message <3 <3 <3 <3 It’s been a CRAZY YEAR (literally it’s been like almost a year yikes) but I’m glad to see there’s stills ome little fans out there <3 <3 <3 

Who knows! Maybe this is a rebirth...or a very, very cruel, sick joke (feel free to egg my house if I dip. I deserve it). 

LOK (lots of kisses!!) 

                                     }

[whattheactualass]

☺ ✖ – The merc’s eyes move down at the sound of his name, his mouth pressing into a line that exists solely for the purpose of keeping him from frowning or, worse, letting his lip tremble. He knows that Nathan had never planned to actually stay with him, that once his wrist-ma-gig was all fixed up and capable of poppin’ him through the timestream that he’d come and go, if he ever chose to come back at all. 

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially because Wade hadn’t known. He’d came home from a quick day job expecting their Thursday movie night with Lil Wang’s, twinkies, and typically a sexathon somewhere in between— only for the apartment to be quiet. He’d thought maybe, just maybe, Nathan had been kidnapped and been a full duffle bag into packing and setting out to track his fine piece of ass down only to realize that the Awesome Gun was gone, Nathan’s watch and Hope’s bear. It was then that it set in. That he knew Nathan had left without so much as a ‘BBS’ text. 

Wade had known that he’d leave eventually, rather because of the ‘mission’ or because of him, but he hadn’t expected it to be so abrupt. Hadn’t even thought about what he would do with the too-big bed and the empty space and time left behind. So he’d run off, chased himself and did some stupid shit to try and make himself feel better. To not have to come back to that bleak apartment. He’d made it almost a month and a half before his mind had caught up with him and Wade had dragged his tired, aching, bullet ridden ass to the closest place he had to ‘home’. 

“Yeah,” Wade finally lets out, his ass is practically formed to the cushion after two straight days of sitting. Zoning in and out as he stared at the TV, avoiding the bed that’s currently housing his new Beanie Baby collection. He’s suddenly aware of how dry his mouth is, how much his skin crawls and how even his head is quiet as he stares at the TV. He finally looks down to the remote, pressing at a button to get the recording to start forwarding through, pausing after a few seconds and pushing play like he knows it’ll stop at the place he wants it to.  “Gonna have to share the couch if you’re tired,” he adds after a second, trying to wave it all off like it’ll fix the mess. “Princess the Bear and Tabasco the Bull kicked me out yesterday and I’m not allowed back in. You’re an accomplice, can’t imagine they’ll let you in either.” 

(cont. from here)

“Wade.” His voice is flat. He knows what he did and he’s only sorry because of this. The fall out. He’d told Wade in the beginning that his job guarding the timeline was important, that he was bad at relationships because of it. 

Nathan Summers will always choose his duty over anything else. He’s sorry that Wade had to find out the hard way.

He gazes at Wade’s face in the semi-dark of their apartment, eyes unwavering even as his lover refuses to look at him. He wants to touch, wants to make sure Wade’s alright. He knows, logically, that Wade can’t ever be truly hurt. He’ll heal. It doesn’t stop Nathan from wanting the little bit of reassurance. He’d never been overly affectionate in his life before he met Wade. Wade, who clung to him like velcro if he spent too long in the kitchen to get water.

“I’m sorry,” Nathan intones, trying to impart true regret. “I had a mission and I couldn’t bring you with me. It needed my attention right away and I came back as soon as I could. My job is important. You know that.”

[whattheactualass]

"Hey." It's gruff and quiet. A dip in the couch where he perches at Wade's hip, a techno organic hand reaching out to cup a soft, scarred cheek. "I'm... Back. Sort of. Come on, let's get you to bed."

☺ ✖ – Wade doesn’t move when he hears the heavy steps hit the floorboards of their apartment. He knows that Nathan knows every noisy spot in the cheap two bedroom shit-shack, just like he knows he’s no doubt doing it to warn him he’s back. That he’s here.  Wade’s eyes stay focused on the TV, the hazel dark and his expression blank as the colors of the screen dance over his face. He hasn’t moved much in more than two days, his spurts of energy that he’d pushed into trinket-hunting and bad-guy-slaying for almost two months gone and needing time to regenerate, much like he had after his last reckless run into a warehouse filled with gun-toting mafia-wannabes. The rip of bullets through his stomach were almost comforting, pulling away the pain of loneliness for something more raw and true, simple.  When Nathan’s hand touches his cheek, Wade’s head pulls back a bit, his eyes fluttering down as his stomach twists. He hadn’t even expected Nathan to be gone, has never had to experience him waltzing out of his life for months and it hurt.  “Not tired, thanks,” Wade’s voice is chipper despite the worn undertone, the creak to his voice that shows he hasn’t been talking much, hiding away under the sweet lull of Bea Arthur as the episodes he’d had recorded played on a loop. His eyes finally drop from the screen, his face faltering and trying to fall before he manages to pull it together, to give a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Shitty timing. You missed the zinger of the episode. The good shit.”

[whattheactualass]

It still hurts Nate.

[whattheactualass]

PROMPT: TK - AU : Nate seeing Wade for the first time out of the white room post suit/testing.

Nathan hates the facility where he’s had to keep Wade for the past ten years. It’s government owned and run special for Time Bureau employees. There are a lot of Time Keepers in there who are past their prime. Before the tech was perfected, slipping in and out of the stream affected a person’s body chemistry. Things might not work right anymore, the brain could get fried. A lot of variables that ended up in a person who needed round the clock care by professionals.

Nate thought that Wade would live there for the rest of their lives. He was the youngest Time Keeper to be retired there and likely the most dangerous. Wade is personally responsible for a new waiver that had to be signed stating the full dangers of the job, up to and including death. Nate would be proud if it wasn’t sad.

When Alice found out about Wade, about what she could do, Nathan was angry. Nobody was supposed to know about his biggest weak spot. How dare she dig into his personal history and uncover the accident that took his partner away from him? That changed his life? Nathan refused to look at her schematics for a tachyon field because he didn’t think it was possible. To let Wade out of the soft room… He had given up the dream a very long time ago.

If Alice Lockwood was good at anything other than thievery, it was being a stubborn little pain in Nathan’s ass.

She makes the suit with full approval by Director Hill and help from Fitz and Simmons themselves. She does it legally, does it right. Nathan’s still mad when she flicks over stats to his array but it isn’t until Fitz quietly tells him that he thinks it could be a way for TK Wilson to rejoin the fold of society that Nathan begrudgingly agrees to let Wade try it on.

He’s there to supervise Alice and Fitz get Wade into the suit. It’s full body. It has to be or the broken field will send Wade spiraling back into a mental siesta. But he stays in Wade’s line of sight as they pull the mask over his handsome face. Those blood-shot puppy dog eyes that don’t waver from Nate’s own.

The field holds at 100% and they open the door to let Wade out.

The first thing Nathan does is bring Wade outside for a walk. Wade hasn’t been outside in over a decade and so it makes his throat tight to watch him squat down and press a gloved hand over a small patch of real grass. Turn back and focus the whites of the mask on Nate to make sure he’s watching. 

Nate gives a grin. “Let’s take a little walk, sweetheart,” he suggests, moving closer and holding out a hand for Wade to take. “Stretch those legs of yours.”

Wade takes his hand and gets up. Laces their fingers as they begin to take a turn around the fenced-in yard. They manage four laps before Wade announces that he’s tired and Nate escorts him back inside to report to Alice and Fitz.

As Wade jabbers to the two of them about how he feels, Nathan leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms over his chest.

For the first time in a very long time, he thinks he just might be able to hope again.

[whattheactualass]

From here @cablesummerss

Sometimes, Nathan regrets giving Wade access to his floating utopia. Wade can zap to anywhere on the island with the little belt he “borrowed” from Taskmaster, including Nathan’s private office. Nathan has nothing to hide. He truly doesn’t.

But he does get slightly annoyed that Wade rummages through his things. It’s not even the act itself. It’s that Wade leaves a mess like a red tornado. Once, he left Cheeto-prints on some of Nathan’s very nice and prestigious awards and a whoopie cushion on his chair.

He opens the door and is not at all surprised to see Wade going through his drawers again. He closes the door behind himself quietly, expression mild.

“Use a pen like an adult,” he replies, approaching his own desk. He sits on the opposite side in a small, ergonomic chair made of reclaimed wood and recycled fabric. Nathan crosses his ankle over his knee and lounges back, resting his head on a techno-organic fist as he watches Wade dig.

“This is my office and we are past the days where I’d keep crayons in my pouches for you. You have your own pouches.”

   ☺ ✖ – “Tried,” Wade doesn’t even bother looking up, just gives a grand gesture to the pens across the desk. “All black. I’m pretty sure I’ve given you at least a red. What the hell do you do with just black pens?” 

The hand comes back to shut a drawer. The papers that were organized in folders are mostly in good shape. He opens another to a tablet and an eyebrow raises. He pauses, though, at the reply from Nathan. The small scrunch sideways from his lips is easy to see with the way his mask is bunched up to the top of his head. A good place, in his opinion, one where he could tug it down if someone waltzed in. 

“I had my own pouches when you carried them,” Wade remarks, the expression clearing up before he can give anything away. He leans back in Nathan’s big chair as he scooches up. Moves to scoop up pens like they’re cards to go through them.  “But sure, I get it. It’s all about independence or some shit. Just for that, I’m not giving you a box of crayons for Christmas and I’m not giving you any classic DP-certified art. You’re off the mailing list.” 

[whattheactualass]

As someone who often gets anxiety about this sort of thing, could please reblog this post and spread it around if you will RP with and support RPers who don’t have fancy graphics, use plain gifs/images as their RP promos and will even support RPers if they don’t format their text or enhance their icons?

[whattheactualass]

ircnego‌:

“No, I pulled it from the lame attempts to make Deadpool smile hashtag.” 

☺ ✖ –”Now hold the fuck up here boy genius,” there’s a pause, a finger pointing towards the man. It spans out for a couple seconds before his hand falls back down. “Is that a real thing? Not going to lie, never would have thought to look.” 

[whattheactualass]

dcvilment‌:

Did he want to know what sort of shirt entailed Wade being ridiculed? Probably not. Daredevil sighed. Deadpool. Fucking nuts but a great guy. Even if he smelled like spicy food 80% of the time. 

“Are you going to finish that or should I run up on ahead? It should be a pretty mellow night, I just have a heads-up that Stilt-Man’s probably going to try to rob the bank on 8th street in a bit. That’s where I’m heading but if you’re not done with your dinner, then, by all means, we can wait,” he explained with dry sarcasm and an expectant gesture of hands on his hips.

☺ ✖ – Deadpool moves a shoulder in a shrug at the comment, the sound of leather spandex rubbing as he moves to take another messy munch out of the chimi. He slips off the dumpster with a dramatic sigh at the sass.  “‘ine,” it comes with a splatter of some crumbs before Deadpool swallows. He moves to start walking, gestures wildly with the food in hand. “But why waste it? You ever tossed one of these badboys at a criminal? Stops them right in their tracks.” 

[whattheactualass]

☺ ✖ – “Well, well, well, can’t say I’ve heard that one before. You pull that one off the hashtag ‘Pickuplines’ on Twitter?” 

“Man you are beautiful.” 

[whattheactualass]

cablesummerss‌:

“I’m not a kid. I’m an adult and I know exactly what I’m doing,” He replies, even and stern. 

He lets Wade take his hand back to tug down his mask. Nathan places his left hand high up on Wade’s hip, right above his belt. He presses firmly to keep Wade in place, not wanting him to get away when maybe, this could be an opening. 

Right now, Nathan feels nothing for Deadpool. They don’t have the history, the connection. Not on his end. But he knows that Wade will have sentiment for him. He might be young, but he’s still Nathan Summers. He knows that if he wants Wade on his side and not in his way, he’s going to have to play on those lingering feelings. Is it a terrible thing to do? Yes. But a part of him wants to see what his older self did in Wade Wilson that nobody else could.

“Wade,” he says, a bit more softly. “It’s all going to be alright. Don’t mourn. I’m right here. I can be right here for you.”

The floating bomb sets itself down and the flare of Nathan’s eye dims just a little. He focuses on Wade, trying to see past the covering of his mask. Trying to imagine what the other man might be feeling.

He lifts his free hand and touches the high point of Wade’s cheek through the material. Gentle as it trails down, over the shape of his jaw. Down to the untucked bottom of it. His fingers slip underneath as he tugs it up again, to bare Wade’s mouth. His eyes go right back to his lips. Curious.

“Let’s just talk.”

☺ ✖ – “Yeah, sure. That’s totally not what used to say with my fake,” Wade claps back, giving a look that’s conveyed simply by the mask. That connects nothing with the way his jaw is tight. With the way his chest aches. 

It doesn’t matter how many times Nathan dies, it doesn’t hurt any less. Seems to get more painful, really. 

He’s starting to feel cornered, especially when that hand presses against him. Keeps him in place. Wade doesn’t like feeling trapped, especially when his insides don’t feel right. When he feels seconds away from snapping out a Desert Eagle and jamming it right under his own jaw. 

The way his name sounds coming out of Nathan’s mouth sends a small tingle down his spine, pushes at the voices that are starting to build up in the back of his mind and has his eyes snapping to those bright blues, to that softening glow. 

There isn’t a word from the merc, his body ridged and unmoving as he holds his breath. At that ghost of touch that turns firm on his face. He wants to lean into it. Wants to push his face firmly against it and smoosh that hand between his. Keep that contact. 

When Nathan pulls up his mask his gut twists, makes his eyes shift to the side at a sting. He hadn’t seen Nate in a couple years, had just heard little whispers of where he’d been, where he might be going. 

“Don’t,” it comes after a minute. An edge to his voice he’s not so sure the younger man can even pick up on. It comes out almost strained and soft as Wade pushes it out with the breath that’s left in his lungs. He tries to fix that line to his mouth. To the way it’s been set in a frown for days behind that mask to try and hide. 

His hand moves up again to try and pull it back down. He can feel himself starting to crumble at his core. The move move move he’d pushed himself into since he’d heard the news stalled. Giving him time to think and dwell- especially with Nathan’s younger carbon copy in front of him. Wade knows it isn’t the same. Knows he isn’t the same. 

But that’s his one and only with no one really in between. Even those he holds closer, calls friends with some semblance beyond mocking have never held the place Nathan did. Had never treated him like Nathan did.  

“Don’t. I’m not in the mood to talk.” 

[whattheactualass]

dcvilment‌:

“Uh – because i have taste?” Was that an ouch moment or was it pretty much socially acceptable not to smell like Sriracha? Matt was going to go with that. “I might just keep my distance from you for a bit until it mellows out…”

☺ ✖ – “You know, I didn’t come here to be ridiculed. I’m not wearing the right shirt for that. I came here to give you a hand.” His head rolls to the side, a chimichanga in hand, sauce leaking down his glove. 

   “I think you misunderstood the term ‘team up’ but, sure, take your distance mr. ‘nose of a bloodhound’.”

[whattheactualass]

Bable (Baby Cable) in Uncanny X-Men Annual #1 (2019)

[whattheactualass]

cablesummerss‌:

“I’m not going to argue the semantics of time travel with you,” He tries to sound as belittling as he can. All he feels is annoyed. His grip tightens on Wade’s wrist as the merc tosses the little bomb but instead of letting go to try and catch it, his left eye glows brighter.

The bomb hovers in midair just before it hits the cabinet and it rotates over and over, clicking gently, as Nathan deactivates it with his telekinesis. His lips purse and he grabs at Wade’s other wrist after he tosses the bottle. It shatters on the floor into a mess and he tries not to get angry at the thought of more that he’ll have to clean up.

He presses Wade back against the counter to make him stop moving. Pins his hands against the counter top. They’re eye to eye as far as height goes. Nathan still has to growing to do, but it doesn’t make his frame any less thick. He’s trim with youth, but he’s got all the makings of a man who will eventually be made up of pure muscle.

“You’re mourning,” he accuses after a moment, gaze flickering over the whites of the mask. His eyes go down to Wade’s scarred mouth for a moment, trace the shape of his lips, before going back up. “I understand it. I understand that you feel you have a debt to pay. What can I do to erase that, or ease it? You said he paid. I can do that. I can do anything he could do.”

☺ ✖ – “‘I’m not going to argue the semantics of time travel with you’“ his voice mocking, higher pitched and as nasty as he can underline with his fake cheer. He sighs loud, unpleased at seeing his little bomb trapped by the other’s telekinesis and he wants to tell Nathan that that’s fucking cheating. That he knows he hates that shit when that stupid hand curls around his wrist.

But the words would fall on deaf ears. Ears that didn’t fucking understand. 

“Fucking listen,” he starts, turning towards that grip only to have a firm body pressing up against his. It has Wade’s lanky frame coiling up like a snake in a corner as he’s pressed against the counter. As those hands trap him in place. He could get out- Nathan had always commented on his slipperiness- on his flexibility - but his brain seems to short circuit at the proximity. At the set of eyes that focus on his before dipping down to his mouth. 

He swallows hard when the man speaks, a hand darting up to tug down that mask as his eyes move to the side. 

“No you fucking can’t,” he lets out just as quick. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re a fucking kid. Now let me blow this place to the fucking heavens so I can move on to the next one.” 

[whattheactualass]

"Why do you smell like Sriracha?"

☺ ✖ – “The question is why don’t you?”                                 “My new cologne has been out for a solid four days double-D. You sayin’ you haven’t bought it yet? Fucking disappointing. FAKE FAN.”  

[whattheactualass]

cablesummerss‌:

“What the fuck,” it’s whispered under Nathan’s breath as Wade begins to practically tear the kitchen apart. He dodges the plate thrown so carelessly over his shoulder, watches it shatter on the ground. He’s about to move to grab the broom and dust pan hung up on the far wall, but he can see Wade tossing and planting familiar little discs around. Nathan moves forward and begins to gather them up, fingers moving deftly over the discs to begin disarming them. He can hear the whisper of technology in the back of his mind, guiding him as if it were sentient and thinking.

“You just told,” Nathan points out, pocketing the little bombs as he disarms them. “Stop what you’re doing. I’m using this base. You can’t just come in here and blow it up while I’m trying to work. This is all mine.”

He reaches out to grab at Wade’s wrist, tugging at him to get his attention and make him stop what he’s doing. He scowls deeply.

“I am Nathan Summers. Your pact is null because I’m still alive. If all goes according to plan, I never have to come to the future to kill my older self. But if anything happens to me before I go back? You and him never meet. Never… End up however you end up.”

He only knows vaguely how close he and Deadpool were. He knows that they were intimate, on and off. Knows that even though his older self terminated a romantic relationship, they were still a close approximation to friends and occasional partners. 

“So how about you stop being a dickbag and maybe, I dunno, help me? If you feel you need to. Or stay out of my way.”

☺ ✖ – “Tomato Potato,” Wade says as he tugs up his mask, shoves that bottle of beer to his mouth to chug at it as he hooks a booted foot to a door and tugs it open. He can hear the younger man trailing behind and a flicker of his eyes behind his mask verifies that he is deactivating Wade’s bombs. 

He’d gotten them from Nathan after a shit-ton of begging. It was nice having a tech genius as a....well, just having. Knowing. Used to know. 

He peaks into the cabinet and sees a fucking doodle taped to the bottom with a shitty shrugging DP made of crayon. He rolls his eyes, straightens up to toss a little bomb into it only for Nathan to catch his wrist. 

The merc sighs out dramatically at the ‘I am Nathan Summers’, letting his head roll at the tug towards the man only to straighten up at the scowl on his face. At the familiarity of it. The merc goes stiff at his words before he moves to jerk his hand away.  “That tastes like bullshit,” He gives with a point of his finger, little disk clamped down between two others. “You expect me to believe he’s just gonna fucking pop out of nowhere? Fat fucking chance. It just makes another timeline then I’m stuck here with a fucking dust bucket.” 

The whites of his mask are settled on Cable’s face before his wrist flicks, tosses that little bomb into the cabinet in a metaphorical middle finger. His lips are a tight frown from where the red is tugged up to drink his beer and he turns away. 

“I may be a fucking idiot, but I know how to fucking live out a contract. Big man wanted me to blow this place up, so that’s what I’m gonna do. He paid upfront so,” he tosses the rest of his beer back before it’s over his shoulder, too. “We can talk from there. Now quit ruining my game of hide and seek.”