October 2018 Test Drive Meme

[sodder]

OCTOBER 2018 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to October’s Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: HALLOWEEN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Wet and rotting corpses/zombies, ghosts, violence, blood, knives, possessed dolls, options for underage drinking

Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

IT’S JUST A BUNCH OF HOCUS POCUS

It’s not Halloween if you don’t make a trip to a cheesy haunted house. At least, that’s what everyone in Deerington likes to say. The old Victorian stands at the top of a hill, rickety and in desperate need of a new paint job. The yard and porch have been decorated with what you’d expect for your typical haunted house; fake spider webs spread across the overhang, painted foam grave markers with cheesy names like “Here lies Richard Cranium” and “BEWARE!!” in creepy letter etchings. You can see the blinking of variously timed strobe lights in some windows and the shadow of what you’re pretty sure is a full-sized doll standing in the window, meant to look like someone staring out at you. The rocking chair on the porch near the door has a skeleton with a bowl of candy in his lap, and a sign is propped up against the wall next to him.

“ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK. TOUCH NOTHING AND NOTHING WILL TOUCH YOU!”

Well that sounds promising.

The first few rooms you enter are appropriately cheesy. There’s the silly burst of air that you hear just before a plastic figuring pops out of a poorly constructed coffin, the clicking sound of the machinery inside echoing in the room when it starts to pull back and the lid closes once again. There’s fog machines trying to give the appropriately spooky air, stuffed sheets shaped to look like dead bodies wrapped up laying in piles on the floor with fake blood staining the white fabric, black lighting to show off words scribbled on doors like “TURN BACK NOW” and “SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES.” Nothing you haven’t seen before. It might be even worse than things you’ve seen before, over the top cheesy, boring enough to give a yawn. Each door seems to open on its own so you don’t even have to touch the handles.

As you make your way through the next automatic door, the room you walk into is different than those before it. It’s a regular children’s room. A bed against the wall near the window, a dresser in the corner, a small desk with a chair. Nothing out of the ordinary, save for the lights not being on, and the strange flickering light in the closet. You step towards it, figuring you’re in for another jump scare, but the door doesn’t open. Whether you’re naturally the curious sort or not, something in the back of your mind makes you want to open the door and see what’s on the inside.

If you fight it and walk towards the next automatic door, you’ll find you’ve walked out to the backyard of the house, those same foam decorations and a dozen or more jack o’ lanterns lighting your way on a path back to the town.

If you choose to pull the door open, however, it’ll take you into yet another room, with a flickering television playing nothing but static. Once you step past the doors of the closet, they slam shut behind you and whoever else dared to enter. The doors won’t lock no matter what you do, no matter how strong the person shaking the handles or pushing against the wood may be. You realize you broke the one rule; you’ve touched something. But can things now really touch you?

The only light source in the whole room is that television and it’s not lighting up much inside the room around it. If you squint when the TV is at its brightest setting, you can just make out another door. Your exit, you hope. But as you make your way towards the door, the flickering suddenly stops, the TV steadily bright, a low humming noise coming from the screen, and suddenly the door seems several more feet away from you than it was a second ago. Before you can reach the door, there’s the sound of trickling water from behind you. If you choose to look back, you’ll see something coming out from the screen - a girl with soaked clothing and pale, rotted skin. She emerges fully from the glass and starts to move towards you. You know it’s best to start running for that door. If you stay and try to fight, you’ll find that no regular weapons work on her, though special weapons and powers that are effective against spirits will definitely do the trick. For those who don’t have any of these at their disposal, however, there is one more hope besides just trying to run; two old school VHS tape sit on the table near by, a fancy machine between them that is meant to copy one to the other. Work as a team and have one distract her while the other records, and you’ll find that she disappears as quickly as she flickered on the screen and the TV will return to static.

Regardless of what you choose before carrying on, the next room you come to as the door slams and locks behind you is entirely different. Brightly lit and filled with what seems like hundreds of porcelain dolls, it’s almost hard to tell where there could possibly be another exit hidden among the massive shelves. You can start to wind your way through them, but before long, you start to hear the sound of running feet, the jingling of bells, the swish of satin, and most eerily the sounds of children giggling - but there’s nothing that sounds save about them. Some of the dolls you saw on the last shelf seem like they’ve moved and are sitting in the corner or laying in a new position on a new shelf. Sometimes you swear you can see their heads turn to watch you pass, but it has to be a trick of the light, doesn’t it?

That is until one of those dolls runs by you, brandishing something shiny in their hands - something sharp. A knife, you realize too late, as it tries to slice at your legs and knock you down. You can kick them away and they’ll go flying, and when the porcelain smashes, the doll will scream in agony. You notice there’s blood pouring from the hole that formed, spreading quickly across the ground. The dolls are easy to kill, but are they really just dolls? You can take your time to contemplate that later, as now you have to fight your way through the violent and armed toys to reach the door at the end of the maze of shelves. Hopefully you can get out without too many severe injuries.

When (or if) you do manage to get to the next room, you seem to have a chance to take a breath and tend to any wounds. It’s decorated like the room of a small cottage, a large pot over the fireplace that isn’t lit, and several jars full of (possibly rotting) food and herbs on the shelves. You see a book on the stand in the center, latched shut and covered in dust. You can open it, if you want, but remember the warning you ignored that got you in trouble in the first place. It’s probably better to carry on to the next room.

If you do choose to open the book, though, there will be eerily glowing text lining the pages, the light will seem to poor out and fill the room, and you’ll be transported back out in front of the house.

Those who continued through the door will find themselves out in the backyard. Just like for those who got out sooner, there are dozens of jack o lanterns, but the graves don’t look like they’re made of foam this time. They’re real stone, engraved with real names and real dates this time. And the ground underneath them seems to be moving, like someone’s trying to crawl out of there. Better not to wait around. Soon as you start to move down the path, you’ll start to hear the sounds of groans as the undead start to crawl from their own graves, pulling themselves up through the dirt, and determined to get to the only food source they see - you. The zombies seem like they’re never ending, coming from every inch of the yard, but at least they’re just like normal zombies - completely incapable of being killed unless you cut off the head. There are shovels lying next to a few graves if you need a quick weapon, but there’s also still always the option to run as fast as you can up the stone path to the front of the house and back towards the street.

When you do finally manage to get back to the front, there’s a momentary blinding flash of light, disorienting anyone near it for a few seconds. When it finally fades, any leftover zombies chasing you have disappeared and the house looks like the same, cheesy haunted house you walked up to in the first place. If for some reason you decide to go and explore the backyard again, the grass will be back to normal, and the graves will all be replaced by cheaply painted foam once more.

Was that all in your head? Who knows. But maybe it’s best to just get out of here.

WE DID THE MASH

Somehow the street lamps have all been converted to oil based flames, the Authority are in witch hats, and every where you go there is music that seems to be playing from faintly glowing bats hanging upside down from telephone wires. The bats will open their mouths in succession, seeming somehow capable of producing the sounds of instruments and singers alike of popular Halloween songs.

Yards are decorated as thoroughly as the front of stores. Maybe you haven't bothered to decorate, but your neighbor sure has! Fake gravestones are propped up in yards, giant fake spiders in trees, and no matter where you walk, the ground seems covered in thick, rolling fog from machines. Or at least you hope it's coming from machines. Hell, you can't even find it in yourself to be too worried! Everyone around you is having way too good of a time! And God, there is food everywhere! Might as well grab a bite while you're out, huh?

It's tempting to break loose and dance. Jack-O-Lanterns absolutely crowd the streets. There's more than you can even begin to count, and all of them are lit all throughout the night. Even if you accidentally trip over some, they don't seem to catch fire to anything or go out! Some neighbors have camp fires set up with marshmallows to roast, while others have...are those broomsticks? Well that's kinda cool, you guess. Correction: it's really cool since you can actually pick one up and take it for a fly! Make sure to attach a little lamp to the front though because God knows it's dangerous flying at night. The brooms only work if you wear the appropriately provided hats, of course, but you can keep both the broom and hat indefinitely and have a readily available means of flight in Deerington after! Be forewarned though: the brooms are as easily broken as regular brooms and the hats easily blown away in the wind.

TRICK OR TREATS

At any of the events, especially the nighttime partying, you can find any number of the following treats (and their potential side effects):

Donuts (Will make you deliriously happy. Everything is amazing to you. May cause a lot of affection. A lot of affection.)
Candy Apples (You will eagerly tell someone everything you like about them. Talk about a sweet tooth.)
Candy Corn (Will make you extremely sad. Like god, you'll be wondering why you hate yourself so much.)
Pumpkin Spice Lattes (Causes suspicious amounts of obedience and a desire to do what you're told.)
Hot Chocolate (Can provide some minor healing. Best stuff to drink with a common cold!)
Hot or Cold Apple Cider (Nothing will happen. It's just really good.)
Alcoholic Cider (This isn't your grandma's apple cider. This stuff will knock you on your ass. Anyone who drinks this will get wasted regardless of whether or not they are immune to alcohol or even ingest regular food. It only takes one or two before you start to get tipsy, but any more than that and you'll be well on your way to drunk. Please drink responsibly. We don't need any FUIs.)

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Comments

[4thwaller]

Yes, that's exactly my superpower. I'm Ophelia-Man. Bitten by a radioactive playwright. I'm also really good in musicals. [ Ask stupid questions and you get stupid answers, Peter. ] You said your name was Peter? [ So he hadn't been too distracted to hear that, huh. ] I hope you don't hold the whole mild drowning thing against me.

[ He stays there, waiting for Peter to take his offered help. Yeah, this guy seems like he's got a couple screws loose and really can't take a hint. ] Don't your lungs just feel cleaner? Like a car-wash. I wonder if there are any evil ghost brats that have a solution for a back that won't pop.

[ He eyes Peter for a moment, then his gaze finds the remains of the door. ] Are you okay?

[quipsandthwips]

[Are you mocking him. Don't you mock him. Even unknowingly.]

... Oh, yeah, I'm great. Never been better.

[Oh wow, yeah, that door sure is busted up, huh? That should be a real pain in the literal back tomorrow. For normal schmoes, anyway. The almost drowning thing was way worse, though, and there's not an ounce of pain in his movements as he finally (begrudgingly) accepts the hand and hauls himself up.]

My lungs feel like they were almost turned into water jugs in a general store.

So no. I'm mad at you for almost getting me killed because you ignore warning signs.

Here's me, giving you the cold shoulder, being mad at you.

[He turns his shoulder and starts moving toward the doll room, expecting the other guy to follow, since they're... y'know. Not really able to go anywhere else right now.]

[4thwaller]

[ Wade balks, non-existent eyebrows raising behind his mask. ] You literally just gave me the cold shoulder. Are you even real? [ Because Wade thinks Peter's way too adorable to be real right now. ] I wouldn't have let you die. I told you, I know CPR. I'm your knight in shining leather armour. Sir Deadpool.

[ Wade does follow, after all he has to make sure nothing in this next room kills him and -- ] Eurgh. [ That is certainly the noise that escapes him the moment they step foot in the room filled with dolls. ] Can we go back? I prefer the -- Oh God, did that one just move its head. Tell me I'm just overly creeped out and that didn't actually happen. [ Yeah, for someone who was talking about keeping Peter safe... Those sure are suddenly hands on both of Peter's shoulders as he pretty much hides behind him. Not that... The 6'2" dude can really... Do much hiding.... ] Their eyes are just so... creepy. [ He's not a fan of this room. ] I can't tell if I'm terrified or if I'm hungry.

1/2

[quipsandthwips]

You're a knight, and I'm a millionaire drinking martinis on a beach somewhere—

I thought you were all about being hands-off?

[Suffice to say, he's trying in vain to nudge the hands off his shoulders — not that he's trying all that hard. He's really wanting to pick at his brain and try to remember if he knows a 'Deadpool'. And that's a terrible name for a hero, so he's assuming this guy might be a villain undercover or one of those completely annoying anti-heroes he's had the displeasure of keeping in line.

Felicia, he hopes you're feeling like someone's thinking about you right now.

Well, he was, for a brief moment. He's kind of getting a little creeped out himself—]

[quipsandthwips]

... Do you hear little feet?

[My hearing is superhuman, but like, that's not quiet at all. That's definitely little doll feet clacking on the floor.]

[4thwaller]

You're right, I'm too Canadian to be knighted. [ Listen to that sigh that definitely gets huffed out against the back of Peter's head. ]

No, I was all for you having your hands all over me. [ God damn it, and he's already distracted from the dolls with flirting again. You did this to yourself Parker. As if to prove this point, he gropes Peter's shoulders in something that despite being shoulders, is still somehow vaguely lewd.

She does, and she knows who it is making her ears burn too. ] If I say no, can we pretend you don't hear little feet? Because I really don't want to hear Chucky and his bride scuttling around planning their attack. Even if I was weirdly attracted to her. 1998 was a strange time for me, okay?

[ Luckily for Peter, Wade's withdrawing his hands from his shoulders to tug the brick that has been duct taped to his side free. Wade Wilson, armed and deadly, everyone. ]

[quipsandthwips]

[Is he just letting Wade talk, with no focus on him? Of course he is. It's more important to study the freaky little glass faces that line the area around them. He looks left, when fabric rustles. Looks right, when the ugly sound of glass arm joints shifting hits his ear. Does Deadpool hear that? Maybe not. Maybe that's actually the superhuman bit. He swears that whatever doll is obviously alive and preparing to strike, it's moving with ninja-like quiet.

Not great???? He slaps the hands at his shoulders, absently. Thanks for moving those, you weirdo.]

I wouldn't know, I was three in 1998; Blues Clues was more my scene. Now shh.

[................. Huh, it's suddenly crazy quiet.

Peter flinches as a wave of his spidey sense strikes again.

From above. Around the time when a lot of doll-shaped shadows are leaping from the top shelves and flying straight for Wade and Peter. Lucky for him, he had enough of a heads up to start ducking and weaving away from — tiny knives????? Quick, Spidey, think of something really cool and R-Rated to say for this horror movie—]

Oh, crap!

[Nailed it.]

[4thwaller]

[ He's glad he's pulled his hands away because oh god he was groping a fetus. AAAAAAAAaaaaAAAA. He's been flirting with a fetus. ] Oh my god. [ His hands FEEL LIKE THEY'RE ON FIRE. ] I need Drain-o or bleach. [ To drink. Wade falls quiet after being shushed. It's actually the quietest he's been this entire time.

He's certainly listening along with Peter. Or at least trying to. Really he's just internally screaming about hitting on a -- wait let him do the math. Carry the one, and... Oh wait, he's like a young adult, okay, that's a little more acceptable. BUT NOT BY MUCH.

Oh, shit. Well, Wade had been more preoccupied with doing maths than... well... murder dolls. So while Peter manages to duck and weave... Wade gets a handful of tiny little knives jabbed into him. ]

Ouch! Ouch! Shit! What the actual shit!!! [ But at least he's fighting back, throwing the little shits against the floor and stomping on them. He's also not taking those little knives out of him... Shhh, just pretend they're not there. He doesn't want to start healing and hurt Peter. ] I preferred Samara!!!!

[quipsandthwips]

[Ohhhh, great. Well, there's a bunch coming up from behind, so Peter is just gonna bite the bullet on this one and kick through a few dolls to push over a shelf; it rather helpfully smashes a bunch of them under it, as bulb-like faces shatter from the weight. Neutralize as many as possible, then drag the knifed-up guy out of here. Good idea, Pete, glad we had this talk. Only — the sight of blood pooling out from under the shelf he just knocked over startles him.

He's frozen long enough for one of the little bastards to leap on his back and sink a two-inch blade into one of his shoulders; one of the woes of having a conscience, you know? He reaches over his shoulder and throws the murderous thing off him with a hiss, leaving the little blade be as he moves back toward Wade.]

Please tell me you're some crazy healing type. [He yanks a doll off of the man's head before it can stab him in an eye or something.] Otherwise I'm gonna start panicking on your behalf here?! C'mon!

[He kicks another. No more injuries, thanks, he screwed up enough letting the one that looks like Pee Wee Herman stick him in the back. Let us please flee the scene. Like, not that he doesn't have faith in your fucking brick, but he has no faith in your fucking brick.]

[4thwaller]

[ Wade squints at him, white eyes of his mask narrowing. Does this guy actually know who he is? ] You could still panic for me, they hurt and I can't take them out.

This is nothing. One time Juggernaut ripped me in half. Then there was the time that I jumped off the Empire State building. [ Yeah, that sounds about as suicidal as it really was.

Wade turns away from Peter, making eyecontact with the ... wall? He swings his hand with the brick into a doll that thought it had the jump on him, literally. ] Wait, rewind that. Yeah - yeah, he said he was going to start panicking on my behalf. Best buddies? Friends to Lovers? Archive of Our Own, here we come. [ Then he turns to Peter again.

His gaze catches a handful of dolls climbing, and okay, maybe it really isn't Dorothy's time.

Whomp, that sure is Wade snatching Peter's hand and bolting deeper into the room. Dagging poor Peter along behind him. Does he know where the door is? Nope, but he has a GUT FEELING he's going the right way, okay.

Wow, tiny knives sure do fucking hurt. ]

[quipsandthwips]

I have no clue who the hell you're talking to, but all of that is 100% fake news.

[Wade, what percentage of correct is your gut feeling usually correct? Peter is at least throwing enough of a bone to let himself be dragged along, especially since this guy seems to genuinely be a weird immortal force to be reckoned with, or something—

(Jumping off the Empire State Building seems like a strong case. If Wade's being honest. Also what.)]

— I've literally met you minutes ago, and I've got a million questions I don't want answers to.

[It feels like the maze of shelves goes on forever. Dozens of little doll feet chase frantically at their ankles before they end up stumbling through a door into — a cabin? They go a-tumblin' from the force of their sprinting, and Peter makes sure not to land on the knife currently sticking in his back as he flips over and kicks the door shut in a lot of porcelain faces.

One lone doll has managed to get through and stands with a pronged cooking fork, waving it maniacally as it prepares to lunge at whoever is closest.]

[4thwaller]

[ Wade's starting to make Peter actually look lucky; he goes tumbling, a handful of the knives in him stabbing in deeper when he collides with the floor. ] Ouchie!! Wow, that feels terrible. [ He moves to sit up, glaring at the doll that's threatening them. His next attack is fast, almost reflexive. His brick is snatched up, and then hurled, hitting the doll in the head and shattering it with the force behind the throw, sending both the brick and the destroyed doll into the door with a loud THUD. Apparently, healing isn't all Wade's got up his sleeve. ] Enjoy Barbie-Hell.

[ Wade lets out a long suffering groan, his head turning to stare at Peter with those white eyes. ] To answer your questions: yes, I was staring at your ass earlier. No, I will not sleep with you on the first date, unless you ask real nicely. I may be Canadian but I do not say 'sorry,' 'about,' or 'been' weirdly. I only sometimes say 'eh.' Yes, Canadian maple syrup is better. Yes, it's huge. Yes, I look like Ryan Reynolds, kinda. No, I don't believe in 'stupid questions' what an idiotic thing to ask. I am not Spider-Man, but I will do upside down Spider-Man kisses if you ask. And I do like pineapple on my pizza.

[ Did he answer any of your questions, baby boy?

He sits on the floor, trying to will the urge to yank out all the knives and heal away. ]

[quipsandthwips]

[He stares through every question with disbelief, sitting flatly on his ass as Wade yammers on and on with reckless abandon; Peter is a.) sure that he has some non-dying power, and b.) pretty sure talking too much is a secondary super power. And oh, cool — he knows about Spider-Man, so that's something he can mentally chuckle about. Anxiously.

He stares another moment.

Then another.]

Actually, I was gonna ask if you're having trouble back home.

[He rolls to his knee, his back and shoulder bitching in protest.

Then he offers a hand to help the other dude up.]

Then I considered the fact that you're full of knives, and now isn't the time.

... Also, there are so many better options than pineapple.

[4thwaller]

[ Wade falls quiet, listening to what Peter has to say. The guy has no reason to worry about him at all, and yet, he is. Be still Wade's beating heart. He may be feisty but apparently he is on the same level of sainthood as little Peter... Actually... He's looking away again, from the hand that's offered to him. ] Yeah, we all think that's a little weird. [ But then he takes it and pulls himself up. ]

Trouble back home is the typical baseline situation back home. [ Is he being asked what he thinks he's being asked? ]

You've got one in you too. Turn around. [ Oh, and those are definitely hands on his shoulders again, spinning him to look at that knife. ] I'm 100% always this forward, but I don't mean it in the sexy way -- take your shirt off. [ He's so disappointed it's not in the sexy way. And Peter's not getting the chance to really say no because Wade is already working his shirt around the tiny knife so he can pull it off without jostling it. ]

Pineapple and olive. Sweet and salty. The best combination. [ And now he's hungry. Great. ]

[quipsandthwips]

That doesn't instill a lot of confidence... But...

[C'mon, Pete, don't worry about the state of someone's life back in their... city? World? He's not even sure how this place works yet. And at any rate, it's best not to butt into people's business on the first meeting.]

... Pepperoni's more like it; don't mess with a classic.

Also hey—

[He swivels back around, motioning at the numerous short bladed things currently impaling the dude. As much as his back is seriously killing him right now, there's bigger issues at hand! Like... A lot of them, all very pointy!]

Are you serious? You kind of have more going on than me!

Do you heal after they're out? If you do, we can just—

[4thwaller]

[ Wade is almost offended Peter turns back around. Though his offense evaporates when he realises, why Peter is being a squirmy little menace.

Aaand slap!!!! Yes, he certainly did just slap Peter's hand away. ]

No touchy. This is my knife collection.

[ He turns Peter back around. It's annoying to be dealing with someone just as handsy and a lot stronger than they should be, isn't it Peter? ] I heal, which is why we're worrying about you first, Bambi. Even if your pizza opinions are so vanilla. The cutie with the booty is certainly not getting second-class treatment. Let's go, shirt. Offoffoffoffoff. [ Just!!! Behave!!! And let him patch you up!!!! ]

[quipsandthwips]

[Oh my god, are you serious. He goes spinning in a circle, and yet somehow ends up facing Wade all over again, looking exasperated. He's also starting to wonder if he should be doling out hotline phone numbers and therapy business cards to this guy, so he can address his weird thing for being a human pin-cushion.]

You're being ridiculous! [He slaps away any hands trying to re-spin him, right here, don't mind him. Yes, it hurt to do that, and no, he's not gonna address the wincing.] Just let me help!

[Sure, Peter does have a slow-growing red patch on his back.

Just give him a few more spins, it's like pin the tail, only he'll give up after another one or two.]

[4thwaller]

[ Wade could never go to therapy. He'd only spend hours explaining why the word therapist makes him vaguely nervous and he wonders if it is on purpose. ]

I'm not being ridiculous! I'm being a superhero! We take care of the little guy! [ If only he knew he was talking to Spider-Man. ] Ask like, any superhero, it's our duty to make sure everyone else is okay first. [ His hands move but this time it's to grab Peter's and then oop, bring both of his wrists together so Wade can hold them in one hand for a moment and his free hand can SPIN!!!! ] I'm not the one that needs help, Petey. Well. Actually that's really debatable, but, not in this situation.

[ He hopes he buys the superhero spiel because he is 100% bullshitting. He's just trying to mimic Captain America. ]

[quipsandthwips]

[That looked so embarrassingly close to Swan Lake meets Scooby Doo, and while Peter is not remotely dizzy because he's a freak who spins for fun sixty stories in the air, he's downright disturbed by this cartoonish dance enough that he full-on surrenders.]

Okayokayokay! Stop with the spinning.

I'll get the shirt off myself while you get — whatever the hell's in here for first aid.

But then it's your turn.

[He turns away and huffs IN ANNOYANCE!!!!! But okay, fiiiine, be annoying. He can handle getting a shirt off on his own; he's been Spider-Man for eight years and has done it before, a-thank-you. Totally got this stuff under control. Unbuttoning and removing the lumberjack flannel's easy enough, and when he's in the process of removing the undershirt he says as a distraction to the burn in his shoulder and back:]

... What was your name again?

[4thwaller]

[ Can you feel how pleased he is that he won this argument? Maybe he should mimic captain America more often. ]

Deadpool. You can call me Wade though. On account of us totally being bffs now. [ Wade does as he's instructed, looking through the room for anything that might help. ... All he really finds is a rag that looks clean and what he has in his pouches. Dora the Explorer band-aids and super-glue. Sometimes he has to glue a finger back on... so sue him.

When he returns to Peter, he's managed to get his shirts off and Wade stands there a bit awkwardly. ] Holy back-muscles, Batman. [ What the fuck. ] Right. [ STOP OOGLING. ] Right. This is gonna hurt, probably a little I mean maybe a lot I don't know your pain tolerance. [ Are those nervous rambles??? ]

[quipsandthwips]

[He huffs an exasperated and embarrassed laugh.

Jeez, you just never let up; you're as bad as Felicia is.]

Uh. Going to the gym'll do that for you.

[And totally not a random mutant spiderbite that makes you magically buff overnight. But let's not focus on the details. He glances over his shoulder, wincing a little but otherwise keeping it pretty together, for someone who has something sticking out of their back. He supposes he should be more wigged out — even a blade this should could do some major damage if they used it in the right spot.

(... Those big muscles help, of course. More cushion. Ha.)

He's been stabbed plenty the last eight years. He just makes a fist and clenches it until it hurts, since that's a great way to do mind over matter.]

You're not getting squeamish, are you? You need a pep talk? C'mon.

[Look, he's being nice and trying to ease your nerves.]

[4thwaller]

[ LOOK. This one is not his fault. There are suddenly back muscles everywhere. He was expecting a normal back but this. It's too much not to comment on. ]

I wouldn't know.

[ He sighs behind his mask before stepping closer. ] I'm pretty sure squeamish isn't in my dictionary anymore. [ His hand finds the blade, before carefully yanking it out in one quick movement. It's dropped to the floor with a clatter before the rag is pressed against it to keep too much blood for pooling out everywhere. ] Just trying to figure out how to do this without a needle and thread or a stapler. [ He holds the rag there as he digs through one of the pouches around his waist.

It takes him a moment to get the cap off. ]

This is the part that's gonna suck. I'm sorry. You're definitely going to want to keep an eye on this and make sure it doesn't get infected but....

[ Oh, hey Peter, that sure is the bloodied rag being draped over his other shoulder as Wade pinches the wound closed with his fingers and then dollops a good amount of superglue into the stab, trying to hold it closed. ] Yep, that burns right. Why'd you want to know my name? [ Aw, he's trying to distract him from the pain too. ] Need to know what to put my number under? [ .... Okay, no he's still flirting. ]

[quipsandthwips]

[A hiss between his teeth when the knife is removed; that's about it. Really, it's not that bad; not as bad as having a load of 'em like a certain someone, anyway. He looks so very — concerned, his bushy brows furrowing but in pain and in confusion when he glances back over his shoulder. You're giving him a concern, Wade, and your distracting is not helping.

Obviously too distracted by the absolutely flawless skin that has never seen a scar, apparently. Obviously this guy can't be a superhero, if he doesn't have a single solitary scar, right?]

... Are you — gluing a tiny hole in my back shut? With super glue?

[Yes it burns, thanks for asking.]

[4thwaller]

[ Well, he's not the worst patient Doctor Deadpool has dealt with. At least not in this thread. He seems very subdued. So a high pain tolerance. Cool. Good for him. ]

Tiny? Did you see how deep that was, or how much blood was coming out? No, because you don't have eyes on the back of your head.

[ !!! Wow, you've offended him!!!! ] My methods are tried and tested. [ Give it about a minute and, yep, okay, time to slap Dora on that bitch. He's glad he didn't actually glue himself to Peter or his fingers together. Wade closes the glue, slipping it back from whence it came, only to withdraw a bandaid. ] My last Dora the Explorer bandaid. For you.

[ He struggles with getting the wrapping off. Dropping it on the floor carelessly when he finally gets the bandaid free. ] Good as new. [ He mumbles as he sticks the bandaid over the glue filled stab wound. ] You'll be back to the gym and lifting weights in no time.

[quipsandthwips]

I'm more of a Yo Gabba Gabba type. But thanks.

........

Dude.

I'm not about to piss off any additional spirits in here with litter in their dojo.

[Before he even worries about putting his shirt back on, Peter turns, bends, and... picks up the trash Wade drops to put in his pocket. Yes, he really did just do that. Now he can feel at ease.

Wade's greeted by a puckered patch of swollen skin on Peter's shoulder for just a split moment; it's swathed in all kinds of colorful bruises around the remains of a puncture mark that has closed up and had been cleared of stitches. It would at least serve as a nice clue to why Peter's not too bothered by the blade that had been sticking out of his back.

Then he turns away and starts the process of re-dressing himself.]

You gonna let me help with those now, or what?