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where we're going--
✖ EVENT HORIZON
Ⅰ. ARRIVAL
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
There has always been some confusion as to whether or not the ferry cuts through sea or sky, but this month as you glide along you will find yourself more and more convinced that it is the latter. It is nigh impossible to see where you are headed, the way forward shrouded in darkness.
At first you think the lights ahead are stars.
The ferry docks inside of a metallic bay of some kind. It’s an extension of what must be the island, although this one does not resemble any earthly land mass. It appears to be a deliberately constructed structure, contained on all sides. Maybe you’re familiar enough with technology or science fiction enough that you realise it resembles a space station more than an island.
Once you’ve disembarked from the ferry, you will find that you cannot go outside of the structure.
Inside, there are seemingly endless corridors for you to explore. The halls on the upper deck are rounded, metallic, with lights set at regular intervals. Here there are chambers roughly the length and width of a single bed, with sufficient height for a person to crawl in and sit up on the bed. There is a television screen set in the wall at the foot of the bed by the door, and sockets for electronics. That is all.
Also on this floor is a mess hall where you can get beige, mostly tasteless nutritional sludge dispensed from machines. Water and coffee are also available, likewise dispensed from machines. (There is a cookbook hidden on a shelf written by one Serak the Preparer, but no ingredients anywhere.) There are private showers and bathrooms, a small gym, and rooms clearly meant as places for people to sit and talk. There is a medical bay, although there is no staff. In fact, the whole place seems empty.
There are some rooms that are locked - these look like offices. The doors to these rooms are extremely difficult to break down, but if you have superhuman strength you could manage it. Or maybe you’re clever enough to work the electronic panels beside the doors.
Inside you will find round monitors on the walls and square tablet-like devices on desks. Attempt to work any of these and a soft, pleasant but emotionless voice will inform you that you do not have access. You can try to speak to the AI - called MUTHER - but it is supremely uncooperative. Someone very good with technology could use the tablet the old fashioned way, perhaps, to access files. You might want to be careful, though - MUTHER might decide to retaliate. Harshly.
There doesn’t seem to be a temple anywhere readily apparent.
Ⅱ. CONSCIENCE
CW: psychological trauma, threat of death.
It’s easy to get lost; nearly identical corridors branch off from one another. As you walk along you gradually become convinced that someone is following you. Periodically you’ll hear footsteps, a sigh, a rustle of cloth. But every time you turn around you see nothing… unless it’s one of your fellow Travelers. Or maybe you run into them because you’re so busy looking over your shoulder.
Regardless, as you walk along the lights in the corridor flicker, and when they turn back on you will find someone you know standing directly in your path. Someone who you know absolutely cannot be there.
Maybe they died. Maybe you haven’t spoken in years. Whoever they are, the feeling they inspire within you is one of intense guilt. You did something to this person, something for which you think you can never be forgiven.
The apparition might speak, or it might just watch you with silently accusing eyes. You begin to wither under its gaze, feeling weaker and weaker until you can barely stand. You just want to lay on the floor and close your eyes… maybe forever.
Your fate rests in the hands of whoever is with you or finds you. All they have to do is introduce a smidgen of doubt into your mind, a recognition that maybe it isn’t all your fault. Of course, that means you might have to tell them what you did.
Oh, dear.
Ⅲ. STOWAWAY
CW: monstrous creatures.
The lower decks of the station are darker, more utilitarian looking. These are corridors that lead to rooms full of computers and machinery that keep the station running so it’s probably best to keep out of there.
There are also storage bays filled with both prosaic wooden crates and large metallic pods. Most of these are locked up tight. But not all. Investigate some of the pods and you’ll find that the floor around them is wet with some sort of milky, slimy substance that sure seems like it came from a living organism.
Maybe you should get out of here.
Before you can get good and gone to the upper decks, however, you find exactly what you probably didn’t want to unless you have a very exciting Tinder profile: an alien.
At least eight feet tall, with pale almost translucent skin, the creature has an elongated skull and a mouth that hosts two sets of jaws like a moray eel. It has a whiplike tail and spiky protrusions along its upper back. It is bipedal, and very, VERY fast.
Better hope you’ve got something to fight with! Your chances of survival are definitely greater if you work with a partner.
And you better hope there’s just the one.
Ⅳ. TEMPLE
CW: potential insanity, violence.
If you wander the dark lower decks long enough, you will find yourself moving ever inward toward the very center of the station. There is a door there that is supposed to be locked, but often isn’t. It’s waiting for you, beyond that door and down a dark corridor: the station’s heart.
The room the solitary corridor opens into is round, walls sloping gently up to a domed ceiling. In the middle of the room is a machine of some kind: a series of concentric thick metal rings rotate in different directions around a sphere. The only noise it makes is the gentle swooshing of the circles as they spin out, up, around.
The air feels heavy and charged. It’s not pleasant.
Before you can leave, all of the rings line up so that they appear to radiate out from the sphere in the center. Light flares, and then in the space where the sphere once was you can see it:
Home.
It’s your homeworld, perhaps exactly as you left it, or perhaps earlier or later along in the timeline. It may be pleasant, or it may be awful, but it is undeniably the place from which you came. The place where you belong.
Stare into this portal home long enough and the compulsion to return will slip over you. You just need to jump into the glowing, trembling center of that dimensional gate.
Whoever is with you, however, realises that leaping headfirst into an unknown dimension might not be the smartest idea you’ve ever had, especially considering how ominous the whole place feels. They might be able to talk you down. Hopefully they can talk you down, because the longer you stare at the portal the more convinced you become that you MUST leap into it, and the only way to do so is to kill whoever is trying to get in your way.
If instead you turn away from the dimensional gate, the lights will flare once more before the rings resume their movement. That brief glimpse of home is gone. In its place is the sound of soft voices; people you have left behind, calling out to you with accusations of things left undone, begging to be told why you won’t come home...
These voices will follow you throughout the ship. They are not constant, but they never leave you alone for very long. They won’t be silent until you give them an answer to the question of why you have chosen to remain.
Is anybody out there listening?
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
There has always been some confusion as to whether or not the ferry cuts through sea or sky, but this month as you glide along you will find yourself more and more convinced that it is the latter. It is nigh impossible to see where you are headed, the way forward shrouded in darkness.
At first you think the lights ahead are stars.
The ferry docks inside of a metallic bay of some kind. It’s an extension of what must be the island, although this one does not resemble any earthly land mass. It appears to be a deliberately constructed structure, contained on all sides. Maybe you’re familiar enough with technology or science fiction enough that you realise it resembles a space station more than an island.
Once you’ve disembarked from the ferry, you will find that you cannot go outside of the structure.
Inside, there are seemingly endless corridors for you to explore. The halls on the upper deck are rounded, metallic, with lights set at regular intervals. Here there are chambers roughly the length and width of a single bed, with sufficient height for a person to crawl in and sit up on the bed. There is a television screen set in the wall at the foot of the bed by the door, and sockets for electronics. That is all.
Also on this floor is a mess hall where you can get beige, mostly tasteless nutritional sludge dispensed from machines. Water and coffee are also available, likewise dispensed from machines. (There is a cookbook hidden on a shelf written by one Serak the Preparer, but no ingredients anywhere.) There are private showers and bathrooms, a small gym, and rooms clearly meant as places for people to sit and talk. There is a medical bay, although there is no staff. In fact, the whole place seems empty.
There are some rooms that are locked - these look like offices. The doors to these rooms are extremely difficult to break down, but if you have superhuman strength you could manage it. Or maybe you’re clever enough to work the electronic panels beside the doors.
Inside you will find round monitors on the walls and square tablet-like devices on desks. Attempt to work any of these and a soft, pleasant but emotionless voice will inform you that you do not have access. You can try to speak to the AI - called MUTHER - but it is supremely uncooperative. Someone very good with technology could use the tablet the old fashioned way, perhaps, to access files. You might want to be careful, though - MUTHER might decide to retaliate. Harshly.
There doesn’t seem to be a temple anywhere readily apparent.
Notes:
1. The High Temple and anything characters may have stored there is only accessible to those who are experiencing their first island outside of the TDM via a marked door. Everyone else must make do with what is available.
2. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.
3. The televisions play mostly game shows. You can also find a set of controllers for it and play Pong. Just Pong.
4. MUTHER will not deliberately kill any people on the station - her programming forbids it. She is not above releasing hallucinogenic gas into the air vents, though.
5. Have fun!
Ⅱ. CONSCIENCE
CW: psychological trauma, threat of death.
It’s easy to get lost; nearly identical corridors branch off from one another. As you walk along you gradually become convinced that someone is following you. Periodically you’ll hear footsteps, a sigh, a rustle of cloth. But every time you turn around you see nothing… unless it’s one of your fellow Travelers. Or maybe you run into them because you’re so busy looking over your shoulder.
Regardless, as you walk along the lights in the corridor flicker, and when they turn back on you will find someone you know standing directly in your path. Someone who you know absolutely cannot be there.Maybe they died. Maybe you haven’t spoken in years. Whoever they are, the feeling they inspire within you is one of intense guilt. You did something to this person, something for which you think you can never be forgiven.
The apparition might speak, or it might just watch you with silently accusing eyes. You begin to wither under its gaze, feeling weaker and weaker until you can barely stand. You just want to lay on the floor and close your eyes… maybe forever.
Your fate rests in the hands of whoever is with you or finds you. All they have to do is introduce a smidgen of doubt into your mind, a recognition that maybe it isn’t all your fault. Of course, that means you might have to tell them what you did.
Oh, dear.
Notes:
1. The severity of the offense is of course up to the player - this can be deadly serious, or played for laughs. No matter how it is played the only way to save a character from sleeping on the floor until they die from dehydration is to convince them of even the possibility that they might not be guilty. They do not have to feel completely absolved.
Ⅲ. STOWAWAY
CW: monstrous creatures.
The lower decks of the station are darker, more utilitarian looking. These are corridors that lead to rooms full of computers and machinery that keep the station running so it’s probably best to keep out of there.
There are also storage bays filled with both prosaic wooden crates and large metallic pods. Most of these are locked up tight. But not all. Investigate some of the pods and you’ll find that the floor around them is wet with some sort of milky, slimy substance that sure seems like it came from a living organism.
Maybe you should get out of here.
Before you can get good and gone to the upper decks, however, you find exactly what you probably didn’t want to unless you have a very exciting Tinder profile: an alien.
At least eight feet tall, with pale almost translucent skin, the creature has an elongated skull and a mouth that hosts two sets of jaws like a moray eel. It has a whiplike tail and spiky protrusions along its upper back. It is bipedal, and very, VERY fast.Better hope you’ve got something to fight with! Your chances of survival are definitely greater if you work with a partner.
And you better hope there’s just the one.
Notes:
1. The aliens are extremely dangerous, but they CAN be killed. Their blood is thick and yellow but is not acidic or poison.
Ⅳ. TEMPLE
CW: potential insanity, violence.
If you wander the dark lower decks long enough, you will find yourself moving ever inward toward the very center of the station. There is a door there that is supposed to be locked, but often isn’t. It’s waiting for you, beyond that door and down a dark corridor: the station’s heart.
The room the solitary corridor opens into is round, walls sloping gently up to a domed ceiling. In the middle of the room is a machine of some kind: a series of concentric thick metal rings rotate in different directions around a sphere. The only noise it makes is the gentle swooshing of the circles as they spin out, up, around.
The air feels heavy and charged. It’s not pleasant.
Before you can leave, all of the rings line up so that they appear to radiate out from the sphere in the center. Light flares, and then in the space where the sphere once was you can see it:
Home.
It’s your homeworld, perhaps exactly as you left it, or perhaps earlier or later along in the timeline. It may be pleasant, or it may be awful, but it is undeniably the place from which you came. The place where you belong.
Stare into this portal home long enough and the compulsion to return will slip over you. You just need to jump into the glowing, trembling center of that dimensional gate.
Whoever is with you, however, realises that leaping headfirst into an unknown dimension might not be the smartest idea you’ve ever had, especially considering how ominous the whole place feels. They might be able to talk you down. Hopefully they can talk you down, because the longer you stare at the portal the more convinced you become that you MUST leap into it, and the only way to do so is to kill whoever is trying to get in your way.
If instead you turn away from the dimensional gate, the lights will flare once more before the rings resume their movement. That brief glimpse of home is gone. In its place is the sound of soft voices; people you have left behind, calling out to you with accusations of things left undone, begging to be told why you won’t come home...
These voices will follow you throughout the ship. They are not constant, but they never leave you alone for very long. They won’t be silent until you give them an answer to the question of why you have chosen to remain.
Notes:
1. If characters DO jump into the gate… They can pass through and emerge on the opposite side gravely injured or completely out of their minds. Or you may use this as a very dramatic exit from the game.
no subject
The fact that he’s oogling her even while she wears the Lupus is deeply unsettling to every single layer of her being— and further proof that he has exactly zero taste in women and, as such, can’t be a reliable judge of how immaculate her ass is —but, knowing him, it’s not the least bit surprising. She rolls her eyes, shaking her pointed muzzle at him.
Carefully scooping up her clothes in her teeth, Oni trots behind him, beginning the change back into Homid. “To yer earlier question, about the greater gods of the universe?” Is she so desperate for distraction that she’s actually going to engage him in this discussion? YES! “If there’s somethin’ beyond Gaia, I’ve not seen or heard it, but maybe that’s for the best? Some things, mortal minds aren’t meant to know. I realize that sounds like a cop out”
“I guess what all that boils down to is… It’s not impossible,” she shrugs, finished dressing. “Also, I can’t believe I never realized you’re a furry, you sick, sick individual.”
no subject
"TOOOOTAL cop out. I want to know the thing that makes the gods look like us. Maybe it's like the end of Men in Black...we're just all universes inside universes inside universes, and there is no big kahuna at the top, just an infinite hierarchy."
He can't help but grin at her. "Furry? I mean yeah, technically. More like Frying-pansexual. If you can fry it up, I'll fuck it. And yes, I realize that had weird cannibalistic undertones, I'm not sure if that was a feature or a bug."
no subject
Oni had no idea what ‘Men in Black’ is, but she figures the less she says about that, the less chance he has to get weird about it
or worse, force her to watch it. “I reckon that could be it…”Like a perfect, unbroken circle. That got her to thinking about whether time itself was a circle. An infinite number of big bangs. A cycle of creation and destruction with no end and no beginning. “Ow,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. Really, this was a conversation better suited to a Theurge, who asked the big questions, not some block-headed full-moon like her. “Y’know… For a long time now, I’ve thought of Gaia like that. An or-gan-ism, did I say that right?”
“I’m gonna get some of that food paste, y’coming?” Changing shapes left one heck of an appetite, and she has no reason to believe that penalties for ignoring her hunger don’t apply here too. Thankfully, all this talk about fucking fried food hasn’t turned her stomach. “Gross, Wade. Would it kill you to have any standards at all?”
no subject
His mind is so addled from multiple wipes that of course he would say that. Does he believe it? Right now, sure. In some earlier pre-wipe version? Who knows!!
"No, no, it's orgasm."
He nods, his own stomach rumbling. Food paste sounds great. I mean, who wouldn't love food in a tube? In fact, he's so enthusiastic that it's a wonder he's not saying this part out loud.
Instead, he says, "Eh, standards are boring. They keep you from experiencing things. And sometimes they're just mean!"
no subject
Oni reaches out and, very casually, pinches him. She’d go for the nips, seeing how wrong she was about him not having any, but the odds that he’d be into that sort of thing were just too high. This was a man who got turned on by having his face eaten, she’s pretty sure. “Ta guele, I know what an orgasm is!”
Oh, he better believe she knows what an orgasm is. She can hear his stomach rumbling as they walk and, honestly? Same. “I don’t care, so long as the things you’re not experiencing are fucking what you eat, and eating what you fuck.” A prude, she is not, but she draws the line at cannibalism, evidently. “That shit only flies with bugs, Wade…”
no subject
Deadpool shrugs as she pinches him. Hey, he doesn't assume things! By all accounts, Wolvie was a great lover, but at the same time the man had so many lovers over the course of his life. Maybe that was because he was bad at the sex stuff. Who knew?
Actually. Now that he thinks about it. Wouldn't fucking Wolvie be like fucking cushioned rebar? Like. He has extremely heavy, dense, hard metal bones. He can't possibly be on top because he'd just squish the person on bottom. And pushing into him from the top would be an exercise in "ow, ow, ow, ow". Like entire body stubbing a toe.
Huh. Now there's a thought he just has to ask Oni. So he does. Just...take all that narration and put it into a speech bubble.
"...So did you stand up a lot for it? Is that how it worked? Or some kind of kinky harness situation?"
It is entirely possible that he had somehow managed to find another line worse than cannibalism.
no subject
Her ex-husband
who definitely was not Wolvie because there’s a Wolvie somewhere on this station, and we aren’t going to pigeonhole him into anythinghad so many lovers in part because he lived too long, and everyone had the unfortunate habit of dying on him. Herself included.Also, he was a shameless himbo, in between lovers.
Normally, questions about her married sex-life with her ex-husband (who’s similar to, but legally distinct from the Wolverine) would be met with a terse We are not having this conversation, but his confusion over the mechanics of it just… Literally stops her in her tracks.
“Cushioned… What? Non!”
“I mean yes, there was some standing and… The other stuff,” she says, gesturing vaguely with her hands, “But he weren’t a walkin’ skeleton, Wade, jesus. Fucking him weren’t like bein’ bludgeoned t’death with his bones,”
“You do understand how sex works, right? All these years, I assumed you were gettin’ your dick wet, but now I’m starting to have my doubts. Please tell me I don’t gotta learn you about the birds and the bees…”
“It’s not like I don’t have enough cushion for him and I both, and where there’s a will, there’s a way,” she said, ticking off her fingers as she listed all the reasons why her hips weren’t constantly purpled with bruises. “Frankly, I’m a little offended that you think I couldn’t wear his ass out.”
no subject
"But I mean..." He tap his hip bones, the part where there's no flesh cushion. "I really don't get how it's not being bludgeoned to death with his bones. I mean, sure, he's not hitting you with his shins, but he is moving those legs around, bracing them, and that could get real awkward, right? A misplaced shin is like being hit with a crowbar! And kissing him, I mean...wait. You know, his teeth are never portrayed as being metal, but all his bones are metal. So...huh. I think I just hit on another art plot hole. But the teeth wouldn't matter that much for the kissing I guess. Hmmm..."
Clearly, he is picturing Wolverine sex even as they walk and talk, and that is probably just as awkward to witness as it sounds.
"Oh, I know you could wear him out, for sure. I just don't know how it isn't painful..."
no subject
This look on her face says, in no uncertain terms, that she knows he has an unrequited boner for her ex-husband and is doubtlessly picturing him naked. She shakes her head at him, "He'd wreck you, for sure. But I don't think you give him enough credit for bein' careful. Besides, he weren't railin' me in a berserker rage."
She very nearly points out all the many, varied positions where she could make it work, but thinks better of it. Wilson already has enough fodder to last a lifetime, he doesn't need more deets from her. "I guess you'll just have to find a way to live with the mystery..."
no subject
Deadpool has to pause and consider the image of being wrecked by Wolvie. It actually sounds pretty fun. His boner for Wolvie is pretty unrequited, although that doesn't bother him. He has a boner for so many people and/or things. Like Transformers. He'd fuck a robot car. Why not? It might pinch off his penis as two straight edged joints move and close, but he could grow it back. And yes, this has definitely been a pointed critical commentary of Transformer porn.
"You sure? Berserker rage with a werewolf sex sounds pretty baller. If you didn't do that, opportunity missed!"
no subject
The latter seems more likely.
Gaia, the lewd look on his masked face. Oni considers, for only the span of a few seconds, the utter ridiculousness of her ex-husband, all claws a-blazing, and her with all of her... Everything... Going for broke on each other. And then she seriously has to ask herself why she's even entertaining the thought. "Only you would think so."
Thank goodness they've reached the cafeteria. Hopefully he'll be too preoccupied with stuffing his face to pester her with any of his questionable kinks.
no subject
When she mentions that only he would find two berserking hotties going at each other hawt, he just shrugs. Maybe. But probably not. If Transformer porn exists, surely raging berserker sex porn exists, after all! He'll have to remember to google it.
"Ooohhh...do I smell chimichangas?!?"
no subject
“But you know I was an absolute nightmare to be married to, right?” she adds, a little bashfully. Sure, she was the outdoorsy type, who loved hockey, but “When it comes to all the things that make a marriage work…? Like communication and compromise… Let’s be real, I’m the worst.”
There absolutely is berserker-rage porn somewhere in the vastness of the Internet, but Oni is blissfully unaware of it, and if he produces any on his phone he’d better be prepared for her to chuck it through a wall.
“Not a chance in… Hell?” That definitely is a waft of Tex-Mex she’s getting. “I’m certain this is Muther fucking around with us again, but I don’t even care.”
no subject
"Nah. No more than he was. You probably had hot crazy makeup sex all the time after bad communication and compromise. I'd call that a win. And your current Brit beau seems to love your fierce energy something fierce. Not that I'm peeping or anything. Except I guess I totally am, to know that without being in any of those threads. Sorry?"
Then he is loping off, chanting the names of all the Mexican dishes he absolutely must have that he smells in the air. Who cares if it's MUTHER fucking with him? The perception is the reality, right? And he for damn sure intends to perceive some Mexican food.
no subject
“You absolutely were peepin’,” she grumbled, even if she had no idea how. She’d be so much angrier about it, though, if mentioning John didn’t also hammer home how hopelessly far away he was. Pessimistic as he was, he’d have probably said that they were ‘right fucked,’ but she’d give anything just to hear his voice.
“Do you think…” she cut herself off, swallowing thickly. She’d been about to say do you think I’ll ever see him again? but he couldn’t possibly know, and it seemed unfair to ask. “… Nothing. Nevermind.”
“Wade, wait! What if what we think we’re smelling is really… Somebody’s pet, or somethin’ sick like that.” Not that she wouldn’t wolf down a hamster, if it really came down to it— She’s ate dirt, for crying out loud. Anything beats slipping into Frenzy out of hunger. She just didn’t want to wind up in space-prison.
no subject
Instead of waiting, he just digs right in. Illusory or not, as long as it's not poison and it tastes like what he wants, he's not complaining. Even if it is poison, that's the joy of a healing factor. He abuses the shit out of that thing on a regular basis.
"Oh my god this is so good," He murmurs as he shoves food in his face bere looking up, "Hey, if it's someone's pet, it ain't anyone I know so no harm no foul. But what did you wanna know? I think a lot of things. I'm happy to help there."
no subject
Sighing, she resigns herself to food-paste, settling down opposite the Merc with her plate of taupe sludge. At least she’d be spared Montezuma’s Revenge. “Comin’ here… If I hadn’t already died once, I’d have thought that’s what this was. Now I’m not sure if we’ve been zapped into another dimension, or what.”
“Do you think we’ll ever make it back to Earth?”
no subject
Having likely just ruthlessly murdered any appetite she had for the stuff, he merrily eats more of his own...whatever it is, hallucination or real. "Oh, it's definitely another dimension. Probably several. I think it's all some big social experiment. Honestly, that's pretty cool. It's better than the physical experiment gig. Been there, done that, here I am now as Deadpool with multiple t-shirt deals."
Chewing thoughtfully, he answers honestly, "Probably not. They'll probably kill us when they're done seeing how we dance. It's why I don't give a shit about this thing." He waves his bracelet, which has been glowing angrily red since forever. "I didn't even listen when they said what it was. I just know it's supposed to try to manipulate my behavior, and I don't play nicely with that kinda shit."
no subject
As if to prove her point, and demonstrate how much harder he’d have to work to put her off her appetite, Oni dips her longest finger in the gel-like substance and sucks it clean.
Then she flips him the bird with the same finger. But while talk about the unique properties of baby batter didn’t turn her stomach, mention of physical experiments sure did, and she pushes her plate away unhappily.
“Yea, I got the sense that you didn’t pay much attention on the boat ride over…” That’s probably what came of being functionally immortal. Her eyes lock on his bracelet. She hasn’t dared to look at her own yet, and see what color’s been assigned to her (and not only so her writer doesn’t have to decide which it should be.) “If they really want us dead, and they’ve got the stones, they’re welcome to try it… But there was something I was supposed to do before I die, and I worry I haven’t done it.”
no subject
Deadpool just shrugs as she mentions the boat ride. She's right; the most attention he paid was to check out the boatman to make sure it wasn't his star crossed lover Death. Apparently, there was more than ones sexy skeleton type person out there, who knew?
"Have a kiddo?" He just tosses that out there, seemingly unaware of how much of a bombshell it could be.
no subject
And a bombshell it is. Oni half-lurches up from her seat, sorely tempted to flip the goddamn table or something, anything. “If it were to have a ‘kiddo,’” she bites out through clenched teeth, “Don’t you think I’d have fucking done it by now?”
However, her rage is short-lived, if only because Wade has nothing to do with her ongoing struggle to conceive. He’s not to blame for her infertility, just for making her feel extra shitty about it, and even that was probably unintentional. She rubs her face with rough hands, “You know me well enough by now, you know the only thing I’m ever asked to do is end lives… Not start them.”
“If you must know, I had a vision about… Well, I’m not sure exactly what. I was supposed to fight something, I think. Didn’t seem like a winning battle…”
no subject
Deadpool blinks, surprised by her sudden outburst. In this, he's choosing not to be a fourth wall surfing bastard, and he had no idea how much it seemed to mean to her. With the important things, he didn't peek behind curtains, and there was definitely a curtain here.
"If you could have one, yeah..." His voice is cautious, but also thoughtful. Her reaction combined with his ability to make intuitive leaps lead him to make that critical observation. "But that's why it's a thing you gotta do."
He frowns at her assessment of herself. "Well, I'd ask you to make a life if I could. You'd be a great mama bear. The best, really. If I had you being overprotective of me at all times and looking out like I know you'd look out, well, I guess I wouldn't be me. I'd be another person. A better person."
And his frown deepens at her vision. "That sounds...bad. You sure that nutritional splooge isn't making you trip balls?"
no subject
Once more, he throws her an emotional curveball, and there are tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she pushes her dark hair back from her face. “I’ve tried and I’ve tried… I can’t even tell you how many times.”
“Like a wolf, you mean. Pas comme une mère ours,” she grins despite herself. Much as she hated to agree with him, someone should have been looking out for him. But he’d be dead now, as likely as not, if someone had. “You tryna get adopted? I’d have happily burned Weapon-X to the ground, and then salted the earth afterwards. You deserved better… But don’t cut yourself short. You don’t give yourself enough credit for the goodness you do have, considerin’ everything you’ve been through.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then froze— Could Muther still be fucking with her? “… I don’t think so…? But I reckon anything’s possible.”
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Wade folds his arms and leans back, thinking. Then he looks at her and waves his arms in the air. "I'VE GOT IT!!! Okay. My heart goes out to you, really it does, because I like kiddos and YOU should be able to have one. So please take this not as me being insensitive but instead sincere. You're dating a magic man in one of your stories, yeah? Isn't magic like the ultimate macguffin? Just have your magic man do magic things!!! If I know anything about the Doctor Stranges out there, it's that they think body fluids are extra magical. So if he hits you with some magical splooge or something while you get it on in a runic circle and your sexytimes cries are magic words, maybe you could do the thing!"
He pauses. "Well, I mean, if you want his kid. If you want a non-magical kid, I don't have any good ideas right now..."
Even though he's still deep in thought, he does listen to her, but he waves a hand at her talking about his goodness. He knows he isn't good. But he does have a thought there. "Yeah, I'd love to be adopted, but it's way too late now. I'm like fifty years old. Too late to make any happy fun family memories."
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She appreciates that he’s prefaced whatever he’s going to say with a warning of sorts, but, seriously, what? “In one of my—?” And then, suddenly, she has a horrible thought. If what he’s said is true, and this is an alternate dimension, is it possible he’s met alternate versions of her? No, no, no, she does not like that idea at all. Put it away.
“You’re thinkin’ of blood, cher,” she interjects. The theory, as she understands it, is that magic mixes with water and water mixes with blood. Technically, the same… Could…? Be said about splooge? Again, she makes the conscious decision not to think too hard about it.
Before she can accuse him of being at least partly motivated by a desire to think about splooge, he more or less asks if she wants Constantine’s child, specifically. Honestly, she hadn’t really given the matter much thought because, beyond being fruitless, it hurt to hope. The mental image of him holding their baby paints a smile on her lips, even as it’s tight with sorrow. However lovely the dream is… It could never be more than that, not as far as she knows. “Of course I want his kid… But it’s a bad idea to roll the magic dice, especially with les enfants. I mean, just look at the Meti’s. Any child of mine would have enough issues…”
“Now, I know you’re only trying to help, but could we please talk about something else?”
At last, she snorts, “So you’re fifty? So fucking what? You can have fun family memories at any age, if you allow yourself to,”
“Like right now. You with your chimichangas and me with my… Whatever this is,” she said, hoping against hope that this was wallpaper paste and not actual bodily fluids she’s been consuming, “Still not the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth…”
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