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Deadpool Writes Himself Into The MCU

Chapter Text

               The house, located in the seedier part of town, has a certain reputation. “The wrong side of the tracks,” as the old-timers call it. An el-train passes by a block away, and you and Detective McGruff open the door.

               “Not even locked, gumshoe,” says McGruff. He enters with his weapon drawn, a .45 revolver. Yours is a .38 special, but you don’t feel that way. Not on your first assignment.

               “Coast is clear,” says McGruff. He enters the house. You follow close behind.

               The house is filthy. It’s hard to tell how long it’s been like this, and neither of you can see any signs of recent habitation. But there are odd things here and there. A telephone in the living room, cleaner than anything else. Pristine, even, though the line is dead. In the dining room there is an empty pot of honey. Some sweet residue yet remains, but no flies, mold, or maggots have infested it yet. The same goes for a plate of smoked salmon in the kitchen.

               “Looks like the ground floor is clear,” says McGruff. “Time to head upstairs.”

               You follow him back into the hallway. Both of you stop at the same time.

               Sniff, sniff. “Can you smell that? A fire?”

               You can. A sudden creak overhead makes you jump.

               “Careful now, gumshoe, don’t want to give up the ghost.”

               You whisper to McGruff, sincerely wishing that you had brought a stronger weapon.

               “Don’t worry, rookie. Hit ‘em in the eyes, and they all go down quietly.”

               The two of you creep up the stairs. The smell is coming from the master bedroom. You can see the flickering light and hear the crackling of fire in the fireplace. You pass the bathroom on your way in. It is very dark in there. Something about it smells odd, but you can’t figure out just what it is.

               Neither one of you thinks to check it out first.

               The master bedroom is only in slightly better condition than the rest of the house. The curtains around the bed have been pulled. In the fireplace burns mostly trash and scrap wood.

               The bed curtains shift a little, but there is no wind. Or is it just your imagination?

               “I’ll cover you, gumshoe,” says McGruff.

               You creep towards the bed. You steel yourself, but you continue to imagine what might be lurking behind those curtains. Something large, something powerful. Something with sharp claws and gnawing teeth. Something that could kill you before you get a single shot off, that could rip you and your partner limb from limb before—

               Nothing. Relief surges through you after you pull back the curtain. With a sigh, you tell McGruff that the only thing you’ve found is a hat.

               “What kind? A park ranger’s hat?”

               You turn to him and nod, only to freeze in panic.

               There’ s something behind Detective McGruff. Something large, something shadowy.

               Something mean.

               McGruff doesn’t get even a single shot off. His hand is slashed off at the wrists, and his throat is bitten open. The huge figure tosses his limp corpse into the fireplace and faces you. You can’t see its eyes.

               Your partner’s, nay, mentor’s are open and glassy.

               Brandishing your weapon, you warn the shadow to stay back. It marches towards you, inexorably. The strange smell from the bathroom assails your nostrils. It’s some sort of chemical.

               The shambling figure is upon you. You fire your weapon directly into him. He does not even flinch, but your muzzle flash ignites the accelerant soaking in his fur. As he becomes an inhuman torch, he finally breaks the silence as he embraces you in hellish death.

               “Only you can prevent forest fires.”

Chapter Text

               You are in a basement. Two figures are in front of you, one standing, the other sitting down. You blink as you recognize them, as well as the story you just read on soiled sheets of paper.

               “‘Katniss her heart aflutter lovingly kissed Madge sweetly and—’ What the fuck? What the fuck is this, Fred Savage! How the fuck do you start a fanfic like this? It’s fucking garbage!”

               “Well how else am I supposed to start it?”

               “I don’t know! Not with an overly wordy run-on sentence! Save those for scene descriptions. It’s like making a movie; don’t show your dick in the first scene! Flash some tits, maybe shake dat ass, then whip it out when the orgy’s about to start!”

               Fred Savage slaps his forehead and tries again. Meanwhile Deadpool turns to you.

               “Oh hi there, I didn’t see you come in! Welcome to Deadpool’s Super-Special-Fan-Fiction-Writing-Seminar! Mr. Savage isn’t known for his writing talent, or his directing talent, or even his acting talent, but I made fun of him for The Princess Bride so here we are again!”

               Deadpool pulls a curtain to cover up the abominable Fred Savage. Drawing nearer, he strikes a sensual pose.

               “Oh dear. Time to get personal.”

               He is now uncomfortably close. You feel his breath on your cheek as he whispers.

               “Okay sweet pea, here’s the thing. I really love fanfiction. Love it. Hell, I am practically made for fanfiction. The problem is, I can never really write it. At least not that well.”

               You nod, feigning understanding while distracted by his body heat. And smell. And his freaky white mask eyes.

               “Whenever I start a new fanfic, I almost always run into a problem. The beginning.”

               Deadpool looks pensive in thought.

               “They usually start out like what Poopyhead over there just gave me. Complete shit.”

               “I can hear you…”

               “Quiet, you! Anyway, Snookums, what I’m trying to say is that you’ve really got to nail the reader with that first sentence. Flash your ass to get ‘em craving that D. You know what I mean?”

               You don’t, not really, but you do notice there is something wrong with that sentence up there. And not just that is actually unfinished.

               “Ugh. Okay, let me give you a more positive example, and then you can compare the two.”

               Deadpool proceeds to roll up his sleeve and carve up his arm with a scalpel. His handwriting is neat and precise, and you’d be able to read it if only there wasn’t so much blood.

               “Ahem: ‘The wind whispered through the willow trees, as his body lay cold and still.’ See? That’s way better than Fred Savage’s crap!”

               “You’re hurting my feelings!”

               “Good! So anyway, what I tried to do was create a picture in your mind without just dumping a ton of character information on your doorstep. I also didn’t want to throw in some lesbian kissing right off the bat. Better to build up to it. Finally, I gave you some information, but kept some mystery. That way, the reader gets curious and wants to keep reading.”

               You start to understand, but then Fred Savage pulls the curtain open.

               “So, Wade—”

               “Call me Deadpool.”

               “Sorry, Deadpool; I just tried rewriting my first sentence based on your advice just now.”

               “How remarkably quick! Give me that!”

               Deadpool snatches Fred Savage’s notebook and reads it aloud.

               “‘As she lay there, she felt an emptiness inside and out. There was a cold spot next to her on the bed, and in her heart a void like deep space.’ Well fuck a duck, that is better! And two sentences, even? My nips are hard! But I still don’t like it.”

               Fred Savage felt an emptiness inside that could not be filled.

               Deadpool winces. “Hey cut that out!” Turning to you, he continues.

               “Dear me, why am I telling you all this? I want you to proofread my work. I sure as hell can’t rely on Fred Savage, you know what I mean?”

               Sobs emanate from behind the curtain.

               “So, chickadee, what did you think of my McGruff story?”

               You cannot believe that Deadpool wrote it.

               “Oh, tsk, tsk, my little darling. I’ve got all sorts of things cooking up here, and we have all night to work. Isn’t that exciting?”

               You are not the least bit excited. You long to escape, but only now notice the chains that are wrapped around your ankles. This is it. You are in it for the long haul.

               “Here you go, dumpling!”

               Deadpool holds his next story in front of you. It looks way too long.

Chapter Text

               Iron Man stood shoulder to shoulder with War Machine, Black Widow, and Nick Fury. Happy stood somewhat behind them, far less gallantly. In the valley below lay a veritable hive of activity.

               Hammer Industries.

               “I am sick of these motherfuckin’ robots in my motherfuckin’ state,” said Nick Fury.

               “Okay, here’s the plan,” said Iron Man. “Rhodey and I will attack from above, draw their fire. The rest of you should infiltrate from the ground. Happy can drive you.”

               He and War Machine blasted off before anyone could object.

               “Sir, do you think this is a good idea?” asked Black Widow.

               Nick Fury thought it was a terrible idea. That’s why he kept an ace up his sleeve.

               “Ace mercenary, motherfuckers.”


               As they flew towards battle, Tony Stark could only reminisce in his mind all the retcons that had taken place. How when he had first arrived at the Stark Expo he had been attacked by Hammer’s drones. How the congressional hearing had been about that and not something blatantly unconstitutional. How it was his daddy issues that drove him to excess and not some ridiculous sublot about metal poisoning he should have predicted when constructing the Mark II.

               How the dumb Monaco scenes never happened.

               “You ready for this, Tony?” asked Rhodes.

               “Ready as I’ll ever be.”


               Natasha had her doubts about Happy.

               “Are you even armed?”

               “Armed? I’m double-armed!” And he took his hands off the steering wheel to flex.

               “Stay on the road, motherfucker!” screamed Nick Fury.

               They barely made it to the gate intact.

               “Can I see some I.D.?” asked the gate guard nervously.

               “Here’s my I.D., sailor.” And Black Widow flashed him her tits. He immediately died happily of a heart attack.

               “That’s quite a superpower,” remarked Happy.

               Black Widow quietly made plans to murder him.

               “Vanko, I’m comin’ for you!” Iron Man was ready for anything. But not for what happened.

               “Stupid dumb Stark pig, I am from the Motherland! We make things too big! You killed my father! Prepare to die!” And instead of a massive army of killer robots, he had built a single giant tripodal mech.

               “Oh boy,” said Stark and Rhodes.


               “Zounds! It’s worse than we thought!” exclaimed Black Widow.

               “Backup is on the way,” said Nick Fury. “Quick, let’s take out that mob of faceless goons!”

               Happy is barely able to hold his own against a single overweight goon in a fistfight, while Nick Fury and Black Widow surgically take down an entire small army using combat shotguns.

               “Still think I’m eye candy, bitch?” taunted Black Widow, as she brutally executed Justin Hammer.

               The three of them gathered around.

               “What are we gonna do about that giant mech? It’s just swatting around Stark and Rhodes!” exclaimed Happy unhappily.

               Just then, they caught a glimpse of a figure in red moving swiftly to the factory roof.

               “Our savior is here,” whispered Nick fury.


               Things were looking grim.

               “Power at forty percent and falling,” reported J.A.R.V.I.S.

               “Tell me something I don’t know,” grumbled Tony.

               “Your mother and father were brutally murdered by the Winter Soldier.”

               “What! WHAT THE FUCK!”

               “Sorry, that’s a continuity error; recalculating.”

               “Hey Tony, give me a hand here!” shouted Rhodes.

               Tony flew up and regrouped with his best friend. His best friend that he had met at M.I.T. when they were both accepted as super geniuses, only Rhodes didn’t have a billionaire father to bankroll all his son’s pipedreams. His best friend that had to join the military to pay for college, then stayed in after he graduated because he loved the military life.

               That paragraph had more character development for Rhodey than the entire MCU.

               “Tony, watch out!”

               A massive arc-beam lanced through the space they had been hovering in mere microseconds before. It was far more impressive than those silly energy whips.

               “One hit and we’re a goner,” said Tony. Then he looked down at Vanko in surprise.

               There was a figure in red and black ninja clothes crawling up the side of the mech. The mech, unfinished, provided little protection for its cockpit. Tony and Rhodes could only look on stunned as the mysterious stranger sliced off Vanko’s head with twin samurai swords.

               The mech stopped moving, though it didn’t shut down. Impressed, Tony and Rhodes approached the interloper.

               “Who are you, to be so brave and so bold?” asked Rhodey.

               “And who has such an immaculate sense of style?” asked Tony.

               “It is I, Wade Wilson. But you may call me Deadpool.”

               Tony could only swoon.

               “Welcome. Welcome to the Avengers.”

               “I loved you in Gothika!”

               The mech suddenly lurched.

               “The arc reactor is going critical,” J.A.R.V.I.S. informed them.

               “Hurry! Go! I shall give you the time you need to escape!”

               Tears filled Tony and Rhodey’s eyes.

               “We will remember you, and your sacrifice.”


               Happy and the others just barely cleared out before the explosion engulfs the factory. They didn’t stop driving until they reached the donut shop. Tony and Rhodes were waiting for them already.

               “Did you see him?” asked Nick Fury, worried. “Did you see Wilson?”

               Tony bowed his head. “He truly is our savior.”


               “Was it any good?” asks Deadpool earnestly.

               You admit that it is at least an improvement on the original film.

               “I call that a success! NO BREAKS!”

Chapter Text

               Steve Rogers was drowning in pussy. He was the only man in the USO tour that couldn’t get a girl pregnant, on account of some convenient side effect of the super-soldier serum. He also had a huge dick.

               Every night, some of the dancing girls would take turns fucking him. But it wasn’t just his big huge manhood that got them going. It was his skill at foreplay.

               “You see,” he would begin to tell them, after they had finished, “when I was younger I was a shrimp. But my best friend Bucky was always bringing chicks home to bang, and he always brought me a lady friend, too. But since I wasn’t, uh, up to code, so to speak, I had to get real good at pleasuring girls in other ways.”

               Once the government realized how lucrative he could be, they made sure to rent out Captain America to all the lonely girlfriends and horny housewives that they could. By the time he went into the ice, the national debt had been completely repaid…for the next one hundred years.


               You long for the sweet release of death.

               “Come on, it’s not that bad. You’re lucky those are all I’ve finished. I can’t even begin to touch Thor: The Dark World.”

               He stretches before you, knuckles cracking, joints popping. Each disgusting sound reiterating the hopelessness of your predicament.

               “So, my Pumpkin Spice Latte, how about you giving it a go? Writing a first sentence or two? Here, I’ll give you plenty of room!”

               He hands you his scalpel and turns around. Lifting his shirt up, he bends forward, exposing his back. You gag and reel, not at his tortured flesh nor his MAN-STINK, but rather at his botched Vanessa tattoo.

               “Sorry! How was I supposed to know my tattoo artist had never heard of Morena Baccarin? Don’t worry about it, though, it’s only a tramp stamp, there’s plenty of room for you to write.”

               Fred Savage can be heard quietly snoring.

               “That tickles,” teases Deadpool, as you lean forward in contemplation, absentmindedly running your fingers along his spine.

               “That’s an example of when to use longer sentences! It describes several closely related things!”

               You feel sick.

               “Short sentences can break up or redirect the flow of a story, or declare something without ambiguity. It’s great for jokes and jump scares! But what do I know, I’m not an English major, just an amateur!’

               Fred Savage reenters the conversation. “You remind me of the Mayor’s Residence in Chrono Trigger. All those NPCs just spouting game info like it’s real life.”

               Deadpool pouts. But he loves Chrono Trigger so it’s alright.

               “Me and Cable fucking are Chrono Trigger.”

               You feel sick. You can’t pull your eyes away from the horrors in front of you. The striations of flesh, the ridges of broken and reset bone underneath. You’re about ready to lose yourself completely, until inspiration strikes.

               “‘The windswept mountains bore secrets below, but they were not the sort worth keeping. No one knew how many people had been lost underneath them. The Empire certainly didn’t care, and ordinarily Katniss would’ve steered right clear. The only thing was, nothing was ordinary anymore. Not since Madge Undersee.’ Oh. My. God. That. Is. So. Bad. It’s. Good. I think I’m in love!”

               Deadpool leans back into you, but you are not aroused. With the scalpel in your hand, and the chains at your feet, you have limited options for escape.

               “NO! Don’t do it! DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH HIM!” cries out Fred Savage.

               Suddenly, you wake up alone in your bed. Checking your phone, you see that you had fallen asleep reading stories on An Archive of Our Own. You are just about to turn your phone off when you hear a rustling from the foot of your bed. Tensing up, you lift up the sheets, and…

               “Hi, Snickerdoodle! I’ve got this idea for a Sadako vs. Kayako fanfic, and I was wondering if you could help me out—"