#dp/mcu

[moonlightsprompts]

# Dcu/Mcu x Dp 123/25

There has been an increase of Metas all over the US in the past week and all of them are under the age of 20 they travel in groups and are being chased by people in white

All of the kids that were 19 and below had to run from Amity Park when the GIW found out that they were Liminal, The adults that cared helped the kids and their friends out of the city before the GIW took them.

This is a different version of # 60 but instead of the adults leaving the kids leave

[five-rivers]

Clocking in at just under 55k, Life's Great Lie, my Danny Phantom + Avengers movie crossover is now complete!

Hope you've enjoyed it!

[kamwashere]

“Every Deadpool has a Peter!”

[mischievous-thunder]

A few hours later:

Wade might be a little scared of his girl but his jealousy runs deeper

[wolverinecore]

Deadpool & Wolverine (2024)

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #28

Danny Fenton stormed into the Daily Bugle building like a man possessed, camera slung over his shoulder, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. His black T-shirt was on inside-out, his jeans had something suspiciously green on them (was that ectoplasm? Probably), and he looked two seconds away from spontaneous combustion. “I GOT THE SHOT!” he howled across the bullpen, startling at least three interns into dropping their coffees.

From behind a stack of papers that looked like it could topple and kill him at any moment, Peter Parker popped his head out like a whack-a-mole. His brown hair was tousled from stress and probable head scratching, and his sharp brown eyes narrowed like a cat spotting a laser pointer. “What shot?” he said, voice dripping with suspicion.

Danny slapped a photo onto the nearest desk, narrowly missing someone’s lunch. It was a pristine, perfectly lit shot of Phantom — that is, himself — battling some ugly sludge ghost over Times Square. Midair. Lighting perfect. The skyline behind him dramatic as hell. He looked like he belonged on a propaganda poster for ghost superheroes.

Peter’s nostrils flared.

J. Jonah Jameson himself, like a vulture sniffing out fresh blood, materialized from his office with the speed of a man half his age. “FENTON! MY BOY!” he bellowed, grabbing Danny’s shoulder with a grip that felt like being caught in a bear trap. “THIS is what I’m TALKING ABOUT! Parker, you see this? This is journalism!”

“I take great shots!” Peter barked defensively. “Better than this amateur!”

“You take shots of that masked menace Spider-Man standing still like a mall Easter Bunny!” Jameson roared. “Fenton here got the flying ghost punk throwing a goddamn ghost punch! Action! Drama! Fear! It’s what the public wants!”

Danny tried very hard not to preen like a smug cat. Peter looked like he wanted to throttle him with the camera strap.

Danny leaned over Peter’s shoulder with all the subtlety of a Mack truck. “You know,” he whispered, “maybe if your subject actually moved once in a while instead of just posing for you, you’d have better material.”

Peter gritted his teeth so hard Danny could practically hear them shattering. “Maybe if your subject wasn’t a literal glowing neon sign with no sense of stealth, your photos wouldn’t look like paparazzi shots from a concert.”

“Oh, is that why my shots sell and yours just gather dust in the bargain bin?” Danny chirped.

“Screw you,” Peter said sweetly.

“Boys!” Jameson barked. “Less flirting, more photos!”

Danny and Peter exchanged murderous glares, which lasted exactly until Jameson stomped away and slammed his office door so hard the windows rattled.

“I hope Phantom drops you off a building,” Peter muttered.

“I hope Spider-Man webs your face to a moving bus,” Danny hissed back.

Neither of them knew that later that night, Phantom and Spider-Man would be perching on a water tower together, eating street tacos and gossiping about the villains they’d fought that day.

“You’re kidding,” Phantom — aka Danny, in his ghost form, white hair glowing faintly under the moonlight — said, laughing so hard he nearly fell off the water tower. “Green Goblin threw a pumpkin bomb at you? Seriously?”

Spider-Man, legs dangling off the edge like a kid on a swing set, groaned into his mask. “It wasn’t even Halloween. I don’t even get thematic consistency. And he monologued for like twenty minutes about being the ‘spirit of mischief’ or some crap. Like, bro, get new material.”

Danny howled with laughter, clutching his stomach.

“And what about you, Casper?” Spider-Man teased, nudging him with an elbow. “You and that sludge monster. Heard it made Times Square look like a Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards slime zone.”

“It tried to eat a hot dog cart,” Danny said, still giggling. “I had to bribe it with a corn dog just to get it off the vendor.”

There was a long, comfortable silence as they sat there, munching on tacos, the city sprawling out beneath them.

“Hey,” Spider-Man said after a moment, “you ever feel like… weirdly lucky? Like… we’re the only sane people in this town?”

Danny snorted, accidentally inhaling some shredded lettuce. He coughed violently. “Oh, God, no. I’m the most unhinged person I know. You’re just enabling me.”

“Glad to be a bad influence,” Spider-Man said solemnly, bumping his shoulder.

They grinned at each other, the best of friends, utterly oblivious that by day they were mortal photographic enemies ready to commit homicide over who got the front page.

The next day, Peter and Danny both showed up to the Bugle at the exact same time, both slamming their best new action shots onto the desk with the kind of passive-aggressive force that cracked the laminate.

Jameson, sipping what smelled like pure battery acid from his coffee cup, squinted at both photos. One was Spider-Man in a perfect mid-swing action shot, muscles taut, city blurred behind him. The other was Phantom blasting a giant ghost in the face with a green energy blast, looking like an angel of vengeance with glowing eyes.

Jameson looked up at both of them. “I’m putting them both on the front page,” he said gruffly.

Danny and Peter stared at each other in horror.

“Joint credit,” Jameson added gleefully.

“WHAT?!” they shouted in perfect unison.

“I’M NOT SHARING A BYLINE WITH HIM!” Peter shrieked.

“HE STILL USES AUTOFOCUS!” Danny screamed.

“I’LL AUTOFOCUS YOUR FACE!”

“I’LL SHOVE A CORN DOG UP YOUR–”

“OUT!” Jameson roared. “OUT, BOTH OF YOU, BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT!”

They bickered all the way down the hall, accidentally knocking over a filing cabinet, a poor intern, and somehow setting a potted plant on fire.

Later that night, Phantom showed up to their usual rooftop hangout with two burritos and a soda.

“You will not believe the jackass I had to deal with today,” Danny said, dropping dramatically next to Spider-Man. “This punk at my job thinks he’s better than me just because he’s been there longer or whatever. I swear to God, if I wasn’t trying to maintain a secret identity–”

“Bro,” Spider-Man said sympathetically, handing him the soda. “I feel you. There’s this guy at my job too. Cocky little bastard. Thinks he’s so great because he got a few good shots of you.”

Danny nearly choked. “Of me?”

Spider-Man nodded. “Yeah. Just because you are a little flashy, everyone thinks it’s hard to get a decent shot of you. Like, no offense. All that brat needs to do is just stand there with a camera for five minutes and he’ll get praised by our boss.”

Danny felt personally attacked but chose to let it slide. “Sounds rough, man.”

Spider-Man peeled off a piece of his burrito. “Maybe we should swap workplaces. You go deal with my guy, I deal with yours. Mutual destruction.”

Danny smirked. “Tempting. But I don’t think I could survive two minutes without punching Parker in the face.”

Spider-Man nearly dropped his burrito. “Wait. Did you just say Parker?”

Danny froze. “Uh. No? Maybe? Shut up.”

Spider-Man leaned closer, suspicious. “Do you work with Peter Parker?”

“Do you?” Danny shot back.

They stared at each other.

“Wait,” Danny said slowly. “You know him?”

Spider-Man shrugged. “Yeah, kinda. I work…in the vicinity.”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “So you know he’s an annoying, smug, camera-hogging little–”

Spider-Man laughed nervously. “Haha, uh… yeah… he sucks…”

Danny glared at him, not buying it.

Spider-Man cleared his throat. “ANYWAY. Uh. You know what else sucks? Ghosts. Ghosts suck. No offense again.”

Danny laughed and threw a chip at him. “None taken, Webhead.”

Meanwhile, across town, Peter was already spiraling internally.

“Oh my God, my best ghost buddy is probably best friends with my biggest work rival.”

“Oh my God, my best ghost buddy IS my biggest work rival.”

“Oh my God, I am the problem.”

The true chaos didn’t erupt until the annual Bugle Staff Picnic.

Danny showed up late, sweating through his T-shirt, sunglasses perched on his nose, and a single bag of chips as his contribution. He was halfway through dodging Karen from Accounting’s attempt to set him up with her niece when he froze.

Peter Parker was across the lawn. Talking animatedly to someone. Gesturing. Laughing.

Laughing exactly like Spider-Man.

Danny’s soul left his body.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, no, no.”

Peter turned. Their eyes met across the sea of coworkers.

Danny saw realization dawn in Peter’s eyes at the exact same time.

Both of them mouthed a silent “OH SHIT.”

Peter dropped his burger. Danny dropped his chips.

They sprinted toward each other at full speed. Everyone else thought it was some dramatic teenage romance moment and started cheering.

“What the hell!” Danny whispered-hissed as they collided behind a conveniently parked hot dog cart. “You’re Spider-Man?!?”

“What the hell!” Peter whispered-hissed back, grabbing Danny’s collar. “You’re Phantom?!?”

They stared at each other in horror.

And then, slowly, devilish grins spread across both their faces.

“You know,” Danny said thoughtfully, “we could use this.”

Peter leaned in conspiratorially. “Team up?”

“Ruin everyone’s lives?” Danny agreed.

“Front page domination,” Peter said.

“Partners in crime,” Danny added.

They shook on it, sealing a blood pact of chaos neither the Bugle nor New York City would ever recover from.

J. Jonah Jameson watched from his office window, sipping his coffee suspiciously.

Something told him he was about to have an aneurysm before the summer was over.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 341

Danny sighs as the sound of a falling shelf reaches him, quickly followed by twin snarls. He takes a breath, even if he hasn’t needed to breathe since he was fourteen, and counts to ten as he pauses in making dinner. 

“Ellie, Dan, what’ve I said about throwing each other into the shelves-” 

He stops as he comes to the living room doorway, both of the gremlins freezing mid-stuffing an unconscious vigilante out the window, feathers puffed up. Dear Ancients he does not want to deal with this today, but it’s not like life ever cared about what he wants in any situation. 

“Elnath, Jordan, you better not be about to toss that person out the window-” 

[signmyst]

so i saw deadpool & wolverine

[enigmaris]

All Father Thor, King of Asgard,

A new ruler of Hel has been chosen, the fearsome King Phantom, defeater of Pariah Dark. It is time for Asgard to prepare to pay the dues required to keep peace between the realms of the gods and of the dead. Bring the terms of your surrender to King’s Phantom’s representative on earth, Daniel James Fenton of Amity Park.

The Noble Scribe of King Phantom,

Ghost Writer

*****

“Okay so let me get this straight,” Tony Stark, Iron Man and Avenger said. “Ghosts are real.”

“Yes.” King Thor Odinson, Asgardian and god of thunder agreed.

“And they’re evil.”

“A bit of an oversimplification, but yes.” Prince Loki Odinson, sometimes villain and would be planet invader, answered.

“And the ghosts have had one ruler, the most powerful ghost in existence. And that new rulers are chosen by combat, meaning that every new ruler is more powerful than the last.”

“Yes, you’ve got the idea.” Thor said looking down at his knees for a moment.

“And since ghosts are so evil and so powerful, that means that their ruler is practically an unstoppable force of destruction.”

“Doesn’t it sound delightful?” Loki asked, to which he received a glare.

“So, for the past 10,000 years, at least, Asgard and plenty of other realms have been paying taxes to the ghost king to avoid a war. A racketeering scheme.”

“I don’t know what a racketeering scheme is but yes, the ghost peace treaty does require that Asgard pay the ghost king gold and magical weapons every century and if we fail to pay that price, then the peace treaty will be broken and Asgard will likely be forfeit.”

“That’s a racketeering scheme!”

“Well then yes.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. It was clear the man’s headache was only growing stronger as he walked through the information the two gods had dumped into his lap this morning. Thor and Loki both had rushed into his lab and started babbling about world ending threats and how they might possibly be absolutely screwed.

“So, now there’s a new king. Which means a new peace treaty has to be signed.” Tony said the words ‘peace treaty’ in the same way he’d say ‘nuclear bomb’ or ‘Steve Rogers’.

“I thought you said it was a racketeering scheme?” Loki asked.

“Shut it.” Tony hissed.

“A new treaty must be signed.” Thor repeated, trying to keep the three of them on track.

“And since the last king Pariah Dark was so powerful that he made the entirety of Asgard tremble, you’re pretty sure this new king, Phantom, is probably worse.”

“Pariah Dark had the power to suck entire planets into the afterlife, destroying them,” Loki said looking at his nails. “Stands to reason that a ghost powerful enough to defeat him could do much, much worse.”

“Right. Fantastic!” Tony practically shouted.

“I don’t think anything about this is fantastic.” Thor admitted, he was ignored.

“And according to you Asgard has been paying the ghost tax for both their realm and ours since we were under Odin’s protection. And since Hela and Sutur destroyed your entire planet and your entire people are refugees, now we have to figure out how to keep an ultrapowerful ghost from wiping out our home without any way of paying him.”

“Technically we don’t know if Phantom is a ‘he’.” Loki pointed out unhelpfully.

“The letter literally says he’s a king!”

“Could be a title. What do the dead have need for gender?”

“This is not the point of this discussion,” Thor cut in before an argument about the usefulness of gender and the concept of a female king burst forth. “We’re here to figure out how to make peace with King Phantom without resulting in a war that would destroy our world and our peoples.”

“We don’t even have Earth’s mightiest heroes anymore.” Loki said, referencing the painful results of the civil war and the Accords.

“We’re fucked.” Tony decided.

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “We probably are.”

[moonlightsprompts]

# 14 Mcu x Dp

Danny tries to hire Deadpool to kill a whole government branch after they had caught Ellie and almost completely destroy her

[five-rivers]

Life's Great Lie 17

AO3

.

“Oh, thank God,” said Tony, “Bruce is here.”  All the other green, angry looking people were secondary, as far as he was concerned.  Having the Hulk on hand meant that he didn’t have to play Jonah again.  That had been.  Unpleasant.

A dart of red broke off the crowd of ghosts and angled towards Tony.  Valerie Gray.  And Bruce, too.  As Bruce. 

“Where do you want us?” shouted Valerie. 

“Take your pick!” shouted Tony, even as he lined up more shots.  He was going to be running out of all but the special anti-ghost ordinance soon.  “But—Bruce, you’re going to have to suit up.”

“Of course,” said Bruce, rubbing his face.  “Yeah.  Okay.  You would call it that.  Miss Gray, if you could take me up towards one of those…  big things…”  He gestured vaguely at the space whales.

“Cool!” said Tony, giving them a thumbs up.  “Now, all we need to do is get a shield around the portals, and we can roll up the streets.  No problem!”

“Sir,” said Jarvis.  “You may want to look at the Ops Center.”

What was going on now?  He turned and watched the shield around the airship flicker once, twice, and then go out completely.  The chitauri, who apparently were smart enough to smell blood in the water, regardless of any other tactical deficiencies, changed direction. 

“Well, that’s not good.  Anyone want to fill me in on what’s going wrong?”

“Well,” started Jasmine Fenton. 

.

“What happened to the thing being self-sustaining?” demanded Natasha as she punched out another mercenary.  Where had Loki even found these guys?  They weren’t even mind controlled.  Who in their right mind signed up to fight for the aliens in a literal alien invasion?

“Listen,” said Maddie Fenton, a little testily, “we quite literally built it on the fly.  It isn’t operating at peak theoretical efficiency, but it’s a testament to Jack’s engineering skills that we got it to work at all, much less while also trying to come up with a workable solution for the shields.  Be glad we have enough power to keep the portal open, even.”

“Forget the shields,” interrupted Tucker, his voice crackling slightly.  The Fentons’ communicators weren’t bad, and apparently they worked through the ‘spectral noise’ associated with ghosts, but they left something to be desired in comparison to the crystal-clear communications Natasha had gotten used to while working for SHIELD.  “Well, no, don’t forget them, forget them, we might still be able to—I’ve got— What’s your name again, dude? —I’ve got Selvig up here, and he says that if we can get Loki’s staff, we can shut down his portal.”

“Great!” shouted Steve.  “Anyone have eyes on Loki?”

.

The answer to that was, of course, a resounding no. 

.

“Oi, Tucker, you want to run by that thought you had about the shields again?”

Under other circumstances, Tucker might have been over the moon.  Tony Stark, asking him about something technical!  It was like a dream come true! 

But between the mind control, the alien invasion, and whatever was going on with SHIELD and HYDRA, Tucker’s enthusiasm for anything was pretty much nil.  So. 

“Uh,” said Tucker.  He and Selvig were standing in front of Loki’s portal device.  Well.  Tucker was sort of crouching, and Selvig was… sprawled.  That couldn’t be a good position for a guy that old, but whatever.  “So, Loki got the startup power for this thing from the, uh, the tower’s arc reactor, right?  So, it’s still plugged in.  The connection is live, and it looks like he used standard connectors.  Not, you know, a twelve-gauge extension cord, but Earth-made.  I think maybe we can use it to charge up the shields and use one here as the centerpiece – the power source – instead of the one in the Ops Center.  If it’s, like compatible.  Is that a thing we can do?  Mrs. Fenton?”

“Well, it isn’t impossible,”she said.  “But those portable shield relays – they weren’t made as independent shield generators, and for them to run on something other than ectoplasm – Jack, sweetie, do we still have those blueprints? – Thanks.  Alright, Tucker, you’ll have to make significant adjustments to the shield relay, probably even cannibalize one of them.  Are you able to do that?”

“Well,” said Tucker.  “Maybe?  I’ve got a lipstick laser and…”  He looked over his shoulder.   “Selvig.  Sort of.  But if it’s anything more complicated than rewiring the Speeder’s main gun to fire from the backseat window console, I’m going to need a bunch of tools and a science guy who isn’t dead on his feet.  No offense.”

Selvig waved him off. 

“You’re the one who—?  Never mind.  It is more complicated.  Quite a bit more complicated.”

“I’ll also need, you know, the generators.  Relays?”

“I’m still on my way,” said Romanov.  She sounded… upset.

“And so am I,” said Iron Man.  “Kid, I’ve got all sorts of tools in my apartment.  And dummy, too.”

Okay.  Cool.  Also, what did dummies have to do with anything?  Was that rich people code for something?

“Okay, want to give me directions, or am I supposed to just start pulling out drawers?”

.

“Hey!  Where’re you going?”

“You need more cover,” said Sam.  “This is what I have the jetpack for, remember?  Arrow boy isn’t going to get all of them, and they do have ranged weapons.”

It was true, one well-aimed shot through the Ops Center envelope could send the whole thing down.  They weren’t using hydrogen gas, of course, but an ectoplasm-nitrogen mix, so there was no danger of becoming Hindenburg Mk II, unless the aliens’ energy weapons reacted really badly with ectoplasm, but there hadn’t been any evidence of that yet, so…

Anyway, it didn’t matter.  Jazz was too busy keeping the Ops Center and the portal steady to do much else. 

“Be careful,” she said. 

“Can’t make any promises!”

.

Fury was having a bad day.  A really, monumentally, bad day.  One that was part of an already awful week but still managed to go above and beyond in terms of how completely awful it was. 

Primarily, he blamed HYDRA.  They were very easy to blame and were, in his opinion, responsible for at least seventy percent of the metric ton of crap he was currently wading through. 

But then, then he got a call. 

The call. 

Which meant that he had to take this boat riddled with snakes to fight off an alien invasion over New York.  Peachy. 

If ever he’d been tempted to give old friends a call…  But he wouldn’t.  Not yet. 

“Sir,” said Coulson, joining him smoothly as he walked down the hallway toward the main bridge. 

“What’d you find?”

“We have problems, sir.  Using the head start we were given, I’ve found no less than seventy problem areas on this ship… and some indications that the World Security Council may have similar issues.  We also have to assume there are unseen variables at play.”

Fury did not miss a step.  Benefit of being a cynical bastard.  The WSC was a shock, and a disaster on multiple levels, but the other number was… livable.  “Are there any particular personnel involved in these problems?”

“STRIKE teams seem to have an unusually high number of incidents.  Upwards of ninety percent.”

Fury strode onto the bridge.  “Tell the STRIKE teams to prepare to mobilize and pilots to scramble.”  Uriah gambits were unpleasant… but if he could kill two birds with one stone, he would, and he wouldn’t feel bad about it.  “What kind of air power are we looking at?”

“Significant,” said a comm. tech who was flipping through different news programs.  “They seem to have biologically based technology of some kind, weaponry is mainly energy-based, propulsion… unclear.”

Wonderful.  Fury scanned the other screens, trying to get a better picture of what, exactly, was happening in New York.  What tactics the enemy was using, what numbers they had, what resistance had been put up so far and by whom. 

“Sir,” said Agent Hill.  “The council is on.”

The council.  The same one Coulson had just told him was infiltrated by HYDRA.  The same one that would probably find a way to make their present situation all the more untenable and Fury’s day infinitely worse. 

It was a pity he couldn’t ignore them. 

“Put them on.”

.

Pandora hissed at the sting of the enemies’ weapons.  They were not ectoblasts, no, but there was the taste of something like magic to them, and energy was energy.  Still, they were not enough to damage her unduly, although they might prove troublesome, dangerously so, for the weaker ghosts of their force. 

But that was the nature of war.  Few battles were won without bloodshed. 

Her warriors should otherwise be a match for the chitauri.  The chitauri had numbers, doubtlessly, but her warriors had experience.  And once Frostbite and Dorathea lead their forces onto the battlefield, well… She could not estimate the number of enemies.  She had been told that they came from the stars, and those lands were numerous to the point of being innumerable.  Even so, there was a limit to passage through a choke point, and even the stars themselves may not turn things in the favor of a commander caught in one, no matter their numbers. 

But the ghosts, too, must pass through a portal.  Pandora eyed the slight waver in the portal’s outline with disfavor.  She was no expert in such matters, but many years of existence had given her some intuition for how portals should behave.  This one was stable enough, but not for long. 

All the more reason to resolve things quickly. 

“Hunter,” she said. 

“What?” snapped the mechanical man, the burnished plates of his armor flashing in the Sun. 

“Your task.  Find Phantom.  Free him from whatever compulsion he is under.”  Although Phantom still had much to learn, he was undeniably powerful.  Returning him to his proper allegiance would

Skulker looked away from the beast he was dismembering with some reluctance.  “Fine.  Dog.  Come here.”

The dog ignored him.  As it was Phantom’s, and Skulker hadn’t made the effort to learn its name, that was really no surprise.  Still, Skulker gestured at it.  It, in turn, bounded away, yipping.

“Are you, or are you not, the greatest hunter in the Infinite Realms?  Find him with or without the dog.”

Skulker grumbled but flew off.  Good. 

Pandora manifested a joint in her neck just long enough to crack it and drummed her fingers on the lid of her box.  It had been too long, far too long, since she had engaged in a proper battle against evil, and the more vicious of the leviathans flying through the air looked like they would, at least, give her a challenge. 

.

Thor had become more open-minded since his short stay on Earth, with Dr. Selvig, Darcy, and… Dr. Jane Foster.  Truly.  But he had to admit, these ghosts were unnerving.  Too similar by far to the draugr that had ofttimes haunted the stories of bards – the ones that made his father glare and try to shoo away both Thor and Loki. 

He had to find his brother.  Soon.  With all that had happened, with how, exactly, Loki had behaved, he believed, truly believed Daniel Fenton’s assertion Loki was being controlled, somehow. 

It was a foul thing, to put such a geas on a prince of Asgard…  Although, to be fair, putting a geas on anyone was foul.  It just seemed especially foul to Thor, that someone should do it to his brother. 

Loki had, perhaps, never been quite so good as one might hope, but he had always been… himself, as vague as that description was.  Even when he’d been consumed by madness, letting jotnar into Asgard, sending the Destroyer after people on Earth, he had still been himself.

Thor did not like this new version of Loki, who was very much…  It was like seeing his brother through a warped pane of glass, or in a reflection.  In fact, he liked it so little that he couldn’t even enjoy the utter destruction he was wrecking on the chitauri, lightning, head-crushing, and all.  Not that he had been enjoying combat quite as much as he once did in general.

The price of being worthy, he presumed. 

Alas. 

A bright green flying dog whipped past him at speed, heading towards the tower.  He narrowed his eyes at it.  Most of the ghosts had stayed concentrated around the portals.  What cause had this one to stray?

But he could not go investigate.  He could still hear the screams of the civilians cornered in the buildings nearby.  He would not leave them to fend for themselves until he had cleared this street. 

.

Danny and Loki would both have preferred to use the elevators.  Unfortunately, significant parts of the main upper elevator shaft had been repurposed for extension-cable-from-hell-powering-up-a-doomsday-device purposes, and no one wanted to mess with that, and the military-type guys they still had with them recommended shutting them off from a tactical perspective of ‘there’s more of them then there are of us, and we don’t want to guard them all.’  So.  No elevators. 

Danny could have just dropped them through the floor instead, but Loki seemed concerned about the effect serially dropping through floors had on Danny. 

Or, well, the effect that the effect it had on Danny was having on him, in any case. 

“I refuse to get stuck in a ceiling again.  I am a god.  I am to be treated with some degree of gravitas.”

“It was one time.  You should’ve seen what I was like when I first got my powers.”

“And how long ago was that?”

“Year and a half ago, about.”

Anyway, they were taking the stairs.  Danny wasn’t really upset about it, because it gave him more time to be annoying.  Right now, he was in the midst of a recital of all the ‘annoying younger sibling’ noises he had ever made.  Right now, he was working on ‘long drawn out sighs,’ which had really been a hit with Jazz, when he’d been eight.  Which was to say, she hated them.  A lot. 

And Loki didn’t seem to a have a lot of tolerance, either. 

“What,” he snapped, “are you doing?”

“Nothing,” said Danny, enjoying the way Loki’s face pinched up, as if he were searching for a way to order him to stop without really screwing up his other orders…

… speaking of which, could Danny have interpreted ‘get me out of here’ to mean ‘get me out of New York?’  Maybe.  But at this point, there were plenty of reasons to want them both in New York, including-- 

Danny’s train of thought derailed as he noticed the sound of footsteps echoing up the stairwell.  He looked down and then threw himself backwards as a redheaded woman – Romanov – brought a gun to bear on him.  She fired, twice, in quick succession.  Wow.  Rude.  And pretty brutal, too, but then again, New York was being invaded by aliens.  And she knew about his powers. 

(Hecking Fury, telling people about his powers.)

Although, considering trajectories… no, he was too sleep deprived to consider trajectories. 

He grabbed Loki’s arm, intending to drop them through the floor. 

“No, wait,” said Loki.  “Let’s see what the Widow wants.”  There was a malicious, almost cruel, edge to his voice, but there was a hollowness underneath it.  He did want to see why Black Widow, Natasha Romanov, was here, but the tone, the phrasing, was just to rile her up. 

Or to appear as if he wanted to rile her up.  Danny hadn’t listened to all the things Barton and Loki had discussed – too busy freaking out about the whole situation vis a vis mind control and alien invasions – but he hadn’t gotten the impression she was all that easy to rile up. 

But Danny had his orders.  And he still had to defend Loki.  Ice began to spread out from under his feet.  It was a bit sluggish, but it would give him the terrain advantage as far as maneuvers went.  The Widow kicked open the door on her landing and rolled out, into the floor beyond, staying more or less out of direct line of fire for both Danny and Loki. 

“I have eyes on Loki,” she said, out loud. 

.

“Crap,” said Tony, tossing the box to the Foley kid.  “Sorry, got to go, but hey!”  He was already heading for the edge of the roof.  “Maybe we won’t even need that if we do this right!”

.

Black Widow definitely been looking for them, which wasn’t surprising, but what was she carrying?  The bag was bulky and angular.  A weapon?  If so, why hadn’t she used it? 

Loki stepped out past Danny but stayed well within Danny’s ability to grab – or drop through the floor, if necessary.  Making the floor intangible instead was a valid strategy. 

“What is it you want, Widow?  Natasha Romanov?”

Romanov, meanwhile, had disappeared, almost as thoroughly as Danny could.  He tilted his head to one side, listening.  This floor, it seemed, had been imagined as semi-open lab space.  There were long work benches, empty places for equipment, some kind of robotic arm in the ceiling, and a cart full of plastic-wrapped computers, monitors and towers together. 

It was kind of cool.  There were a lot of places to hide. 

“Is this… revenge?  For Barton?”  Loki’s smile was sharp.  “He told me much about you, and I suppose Stark mentioned avenging this place.”  Two false images split off from Loki to prowl among the lab tables.  “It suits you better than it does him.  But don’t you think it somewhat… hypocritical?”

.

“Okay, Romanov, here’s how it is.  Loki likes illusions?  Let’s give him an illusion.”

.

Danny saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and angled himself to intercept, but no attack came. 

“After all… you’ve done so much… so much that others would be more than justified retaliating for, don’t you think?  All those regime changes, shall we call them?  And Barton’s no better, really.”  He hummed.  “The things you two did together.  Drakov’s daughter?  Sāo Paulo?  The hospital fire?  And you think taking vengeance on me will change anything?  You think it will make you some sort of hero?  Give you peace?  When you—”

One of the doors flew open, revealing Iron Man.  Who plowed through one fake Loki (Faki?  Fauki?  Fauxki?  Meh, he’d workshop it.) and swerved to shoot one of his repulsors at another.  Romanov popped up from behind a table and threw something at the feet of the real Loki, who crushed it with his heel, ignoring the sparks of electricity that flew up off of it. 

Danny batted Romanov back with a shield, straight into the cart of computers, which fell down on her.  Ouch.  But she’d be able to get back up and into the fight.  The important thing was that, right now, she wasn’t an immediate threat, which meant he could ignore her. 

Give her time. 

If she hadn’t wanted something, she would have run, kept hiding.  Just these few minutes – She was a shield agent, sure, but she had to have some kind of specialty in—

Anti-ghost missiles were a lot harder to avoid in such a small place, especially when distracted.  Danny hissed as one impacted his shoulder and splattered green all over his shirt, but he caught the next, and threw it back at Iron Man.  He tried to phase off the green goo, but it wouldn’t go.  It had to be some of that phase-proof stuff his parents had been working on.  Nasty stuff. 

Although, he had to be grateful it had only given him a bruise and hadn’t been mixed with something that would melt him.  It gave him hope for his future relationship with his parents. 

In the meantime, it definitely limited his options regarding protecting Loki and just removing themselves from the situation without getting into more destructive behavior. 

He hoped Iron Man knew what he was doing… for everyone’s sake. 

The missile exploded right in front of Iron Man’s mask, splattering him with green goo.  Danny had no idea what kind of sensor array he had, but that would probably buy at least a little time as he adjusted it to compensate for the eye-holes of his mask being covered up. 

He turned back to Loki, only to see another Iron Man grab the staff from him. 

Only for that Loki and that staff to dissolve into the air. 

Loki, the real Loki, stopped being invisible and laughed.  “Oh, that was good, that was very good.”  Not only was this Loki real, his smile might have been as well.  “But you didn’t think you could fool me, did you?”

Danny flicked invisible, noting with disfavor that the green goo stayed visible when he did so, and moved closer to Loki, fending off attacks.  Two Iron Men – Where did the second person come from?  Was it Barton, in a suit?  Someone else entirely?  The War Machine person?  Danny couldn’t remember his name.  – and Romanov together was a bit of a challenge for Danny to keep track of, given his present mental state. 

Luckily, however, one of the two suits, the first one, didn’t seem to have nearly the tactical awareness of the other.  He’d say it was Stark in the second suit, the fresher-looking one… the one without any form of ghost proofing Danny could detect. 

Danny swiped an intangible arm through the suit, cleaving through delicate wires as he did so, but leaving warm, human flesh untouched.  Several pieces of armor fell away, revealing a band t-shirt, but not the whole thing.  Interesting. 

Romanov threw a Fenton Ghost Zapper at him.  Loki knocked it out of the air, the sharp end of the scepter cutting it in two as he did so.  Iron Man – the one he was pretty sure was Tony Stark – tried to grab it again, even as Loki pivoted to try and catch Black Widow with it.  Danny used that as a pretext to pull Loki back, away from Black Widow.  They did not need her under control.  Nope. 

But… they wanted the staff.  They wanted the staff now. 

Selvig must have gotten knocked free.  He must have told them, one of them, about his safeguards. 

If one of these three could get the staff, get back to the top of the tower…  Then it would be over.  They’d have won. 

.

“Director Fury, the council has made a decision.”

Fury flexed his fingers behind his back.  “I recognize the council has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid ass decision, I've elected to ignore it.”  It’s what he’d say if he hadn’t learned what he’d just learned.  If HYDRA wasn’t threaded through every element of SHIELD like a deadly parasite.  If this sounded more like a simple fear-driven overreaction and less like a way to destroy one of HYDRAs most famous enemies and his new and very powerful allies? 

“Director, despite your shocking negligence, bordering on dereliction, you’re closer than any of our subs.  You scramble that jet—”

“That is the island of Manhattan, councilman.”  Although considering that HYDRA, in the person of Red Skull, had tried to blow it up in the past, he wasn’t sure that would sway them.  Until I’m certain my team can’t hold them—”

“There are two armies of alien origin, emerging from portals above that island.  If we don’t—”

“I will not order a nuclear strike against a civilian population, much less the densest population in the United States.  And the other army is an ally.”

“Based on what intelligence?  Based on what invitation?  That of someone already suborned by Loki?”

“If we don’t hold them in the air,” added another councilmember, “we lose.  We lose everything.”

“If I send that bird out, we already have.”

.

“Director Fury is no longer in command.  Override order, seven, alpha, eleven.”

“Sorry, sir,” said the pilot, who had just taken his seat.  He watched with some trepidation as Agent Coulson led a pair of his colleagues away.  This was all very irregular.  “I’m not familiar with that code.”

There was a pause.  “What’s your name, son?”

.

Cujo frolicked through the city.  It was loud, yes, but nothing he hadn’t been in training for while alive, and nothing he hadn’t experienced while dead.  So, a non-issue, obviously. 

The actual issue?  His person had just thrown a stick.  Obviously, Cujo had to go fetch it. 

[kamwashere]

how am i supposed to be normal about this

[avocado-writing]

sending a horny dp+w thot of logan and reader making wade watch (tied up, with reader’s underwear being used as a gag and promises that he can join if he’s good)

(and of course they do take care of him after - but isn’t anticipation the best foreplay?)

he’s tied to the chair in the corner of the room, double and triple-knotted so he can’t just break out and join in. not that you think he would because, deep down, Wade Wilson likes to be a good boy. he moans from around your underwear, soaked from where Logan warmed you up in them before shoving them roughly against his tongue, silencing his smart mouth.

Logan has you pushed forward on the bed, your face buried into the mattress, fists clenching the blankets and groaning each time he fucks into you. he goes hard, his hips slapping against yours loudly, balls hitting your clit over and over. you look up at Wade with wide, fucked-out eyes, mouth slack from being taken so good.

“aww Wade… he feels so good… he’s so deep… I’m sorry you have to sit there and watch…” you choke, preening as Logan runs a possessive hand down your spine.

“well he was bad, baby. bad boys get punished,” he says with an air of finality, staring at Wade as he rams into you with a thrust so deep that you’re jolted up the bed. Wade is so hard that he can feel his cock bouncing against his stomach, smearing pre all over his navel. he’s leaking so much he’s definitely ruined the upholstery of this chair. but all he can do is watch as Logan fucks you and fills you full of his cum; once on your front, once on your back, once up against the wall as you beg for mercy but don’t mean it. he’s dripping out of you, all the way down your legs, filthy and messy and fuck Wade wishes he was a part of it.

fucking you. being fucked full. either. both. in the middle, spoiled and cherished.

eventually Logan lets you pay attention to the poor merc. you crawl over, exhausted, taking him in your mouth and lazily sucking him, and it’s the best thing Wade’s ever felt. Logan sees how you’re flagging and wraps his fingers in your hair, helping you slide up and down Wade’s cock, breathing encouragement.

“cmon baby, our boy deserves to cum. why don’t we be nice for once?”

Wade cums so hard he blacks out for a second. the two of you are exhausted and Logan at least does the kindness of cutting his binds off, grabbing you both a wet cloth and a glass of water. Wade is blissed out at staring at the ceiling as you pull your upper body onto his chest, lazily tracing one of his nipples.

“you okay, sugar?” you ask, still soaked with sweat and spent. Wade grins.

“fuck yeah. but next time, you’re the one tied up.”

doesnt sound too bad to you.

[starliteonearth]

Paradox is not a poorly written villain. He is a Hollywood executive who sees that Deadpool is still highly valuable (making bank) and therefore offers him the chance to jump ship from the dying universe (Fox) to the current thriving universe (the MCU) before the dying universe (Fox) is ruthlessly ended by him.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #17

One week. One fucking week. That’s how long it took before the universe’s reality collapsed in on itself like a toddler knocking over a block tower made of cosmic rules, and Danny Fenton—sorry, High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms, Keeper of Balance, Ghost King of All Dimensions, Supreme Bureaucratic Overlord of Death and Souls, or whatever other bullshit title Clockwork slapped on him—was done. He was so done. With everything. With life. With afterlife. With bureaucracy. With math. Goddamn, he hated math.

He phased through the ceiling of what was left of the Avengers compound without so much as a knock because, frankly, he didn’t care anymore. People were dead. Everyone was dead. Half a fucking universe. And universes are fucking infinite. Literally. He’d been counting. Or trying to. But the math broke somewhere around “nine trillion decillion” and his brain short-circuited.

Inside, the Avengers were scattered around like bad leftovers. Steve was slouched in a chair like someone told him America lost the war. Thor was cradling a bottle like it was the last warmth in the world. Natasha looked like she hadn’t blinked in hours. Banner was trying to fix a coffee machine that had already given up on life. Tony—oh, Tony—Tony looked like he’d been held together with duct tape and sarcasm, and not the good kind.

“Yo,” Danny said, arms folded, crown floating behind him, cape swishing dramatically like it had beef with gravity. “Which one of you assholes thought wiping out half an entire goddamn universe was a great idea?”

They blinked. Steve slowly got to his feet. “Uh… who—?”

“No. Shut up. Don’t talk. I’m not in the mood. I haven’t slept in a week. Time doesn’t even exist in the Infinite Realms, and I somehow managed to be late to ten meetings that haven’t happened yet. Do you know what kind of eldritch administrative nightmare I’m dealing with? Do you?”

Tony blinked. “Not really, no.”

Danny whipped around to face him, pointing a glowing finger. “I don’t care, Stark. I don’t care that your kid sidekick is dead. I don’t care that half your team is sad. I don’t care that your billionaire ass is depressed and growing a sad beard like you’re auditioning for ‘Survivor: Superhero Edition’. I have literal oceans of paperwork made out of the screams of the damned piling up in my inbox because some purple California Raisin thought committing universal homicide was a vibe.”

“Hold on,” Natasha said, standing now, brows furrowed. “Who even are you?”

“I’m the janitor,” Danny deadpanned. “Of death. And you—you are all on my shit list.”

Steve opened his mouth.

“NO. I said no talking. Do you know how many souls half a universe is? Do you? BECAUSE I DON’T. THAT NUMBER DOESN’T EXIST. That’s not even math anymore, that’s heresy. There are species no one even knows about! I had to learn seven extinct galactic dialects in five minutes just to sign their death certificates!”

“Wait—wait,” Bruce said, cautiously stepping in like someone trying to defuse a bomb made of feelings. “You’re… the King of the Afterlife?”

“Infinite Realms,” Danny corrected. “Afterlife implies one dimension. I’ve got infinite. One of them is just an endless IKEA. You think you’re in hell? Try getting lost in that one for eternity.”

Tony blinked. “That explains the floating crown.”

“Oh, you noticed?” Danny snapped, sarcasm thick. “Yeah, the crown’s real subtle. You know what else I’m wearing? These.”

He held up his fingers. On them gleamed the actual Infinity Stones. Not the ones Thanos used. No, these were the OG versions—before the universe dumbed them down for mortal brains.

“I’m wearing multiversal cosmic artifacts as fucking accessories, Stark. I clapped death back into submission on my way here. I threatened Time itself with a lawsuit. I am so tired.”

Everyone was staring now. Thor slowly lowered his bottle.

“I have one question,” Thor said, eyes narrowing. “Can you bring them back?”

Danny didn’t respond immediately. He paced, muttering under his breath about soul processing queues and spectral overflow reports and ghost union strikes.

Then he turned, threw up his hands, and shouted, “Fine! Fine! But only because if I see one more Ectoplasmic Reconciliation Form I’m going to scream my own name and rip reality in half!”

Tony raised a cautious hand. “Just to clarify… you’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”

Danny glared at him. “I am doing this because your collective idiocy has backed up the Infinite Realms so badly, I have ancient god-beasts getting angry Yelp reviews for not guiding souls fast enough.”

Bruce choked. “You get… Yelp reviews?”

“Do not ask. Do not google ‘Spiritual Bureaucracy Yelp.’ You’re not ready. It’s worse than you can even imagine.”

He clapped his hands. The power reverberated like a sonic boom made of lightning and bass drops. Light cracked through the floor, time folded, and space rewrote itself. In an instant, everything was back. People. Planets. Souls. Loved ones. Unsnapped. Safely. No one reappeared in traffic or mid-air. They were all fine.

Everyone stared.

Tony gasped. “…Peter?”

Somewhere in the compound, Peter Parker screamed, “MR. STARK I THINK I DIED?!”

Danny muttered, “Yeah, well, get in line, kid.”

Tony looked like he might cry. Steve looked like he might cry. Even Thor blinked back tears.

Danny didn’t give them a second to bask.

“Listen to me and listen hard, because I am only going to say this once. The next time you idiots let some glorified space grape get his hands on cosmic power and kill half the universe, I’m not bringing anyone back.”

Natasha stepped forward. “Wait—what—?”

“I said,” Danny growled, eyes glowing green and crown sparking violently, “the next time this happens, I am going to let the universe rot. I don’t care if it’s your kid, or your moms, or your emotional support dog. You will live with it. You will suffer. Because I’m not spending another week cleaning up your mess like the goddamn galactic janitor!”

Tony muttered, “Kinda thought you said you were the janitor.”

“I will kick your kneecaps off.”

Tony shut up.

Danny took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going home. Do not call me again unless the universe is actually ending. And even then, it better be certified by at least three gods and signed in triplicate.”

He started floating upward, preparing to phase out, when Steve blurted, “Wait, thank you. Really.”

Danny paused mid-air, sighed, and turned around. “You’re welcome. I guess. But seriously. If another genocidal space maniac so much as coughs on the timeline, I’m filing a restraining order on this entire dimension. Bye.”

And with that, he vanished in a swirl of ectoplasmic smoke, leaving the Avengers staring at each other in the awkward silence that followed a divine ass-whooping.

Thor finally muttered, “I liked him.”

Tony sat down, blinked a few times, then said, “He just wore the Infinity Stones as rings. Like mood jewelry.”

Bruce nodded solemnly. “He’s not paid enough.”

“Was he even paid at all?” Steve asked.

And somewhere in the realms between life and death, Danny Phantom screamed into his pillow made of souls: “I AM NOT GETTING PAID FOR THIS BULLSHIT!!!”

[mischievous-thunder]

And that's Wade's yet another vigorous fourth wall tap to tell us how to create art from art