#mttled

⟨ ‎ @mttled ‎ ⟩ ‎ ‎ helena ‎ ‎ ‎ is typing… ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ • • •

› DO NOT. ›

➽ @mttled says ; " it's a good look on you. you should get covered in blood more often. "

A not-so-distant past version of herself would be flipping her lid right now. Kate wasn't a stranger to blood before, what with the arrows and punching, but since delving into the vampire-fighting scene the quantity has certainly increased. This is nothing compared to what she's gotten into lately. So instead, the expression she wears is one of mild to moderate annoyance.

Send "Nightmares Of You" for me to write a nightmare my muse would have about your muse. Remember to specify muses for multis! || ACCEPTING

The room is bright. Stark, blindingly bright. It makes his eyes hurt. He tries closing them. It doesn't help. It's still bright, but only on the one side. ... Oh, that's because his eyes are still open. But no they aren't. ... Oh, he has other eyes.

...

What the fuck? Even within the logic of the dream, that strikes Logan as strange. He... He is Logan, isn't he? His head is fuzzy. Radio static clouds every thought. No, not static - chatter. Like he's getting some sort of interference or separate signal. No, it's more than that. It's like someone is in his head. And they're screaming. Is he screaming? He can't tell. He tries to bring a hand to his face to check. It's not his face he touches - or not his hand that moves. He can't tell. He jerks back. Only half his body responds. It feels like his muscle fibers are tugging each other apart. Everything is trying to go in a different direction. And it hurts. It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts-!

Two voices scream in discordant harmony. One his, another familiar. When he opens his eyes again, he's able to see his reflection.

Their reflection.

His form, warped and twisted with Wade's, a mangle of limbs and joints and organs, scars and exposed nerves and angles where there shouldn't be, and he reaches towards the glass that cages them in--

He laughs. A genuine, if not disbelieving, guffaw.

"Who, you?" With a wave in Wade's direction. "Bullshit. You don't know what that word means." He shakes his head with a grin, then shoves his hands in his jeans pockets.

"C'mon, Wade, we both know that ain't your style. This isn't one of those squeaky-clean missions. We gotta get in there and make sure we're the only two that leave. 'S why they're sending us." His demeanor sobers up, and he shifts his weight.

"Don't play stupid, Wade." Logan sighs, shaking his head. "Even though you're real good at it. You know I can hear everything within a country mile." And then some. He leans against the nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Look, I ain't here to lecture ya'. Not my job." And not necessary. For all his quirks, Wade was very, very good at his job. Always had been. There was a reason they kept finding themselves on the same teams, and same missions, over and over again.