[SCENE: DEADPOOL PACING IN AN EMPTY VOID THAT MAY HAVE BEEN A PLOT ONCE. HE'S BORED. THE KIND OF BORED THAT MAKES NORMAL PEOPLE MAKE BAD DECISIONS. BUT DEADPOOL? HE MAKES CINEMATIC ONES.]
DEADPOOL (bouncing like a sugared-up toddler in a padded room):
"I'm bored. Bored. BORED. BORED!"
(He spins. He cartwheels. He twerks aggressively at the narrative structure itself.)
DEADPOOL (shouting to the sky):
"What do I do now?! Bring in Spider-Man? Nah, last time I did that, we ended up in a fanfic wedding registry. Go play with Jeff? Tempting, but I'm still banned from SeaWorld. Tease Lady Death? Eh… we're in a complicated situationship right now."
(He pulls out his katanas and strikes a pose like he's about to audition for So You Think You Can Murder.)
DEADPOOL:
"Ooooh, I know. How about... Kill the Marvel Universe: Part 3?!"
(He pauses. Blinks. Twirls a blade.)
DEADPOOL:
"…Wait, no. That's been done. Twice. Twice, people. You know how hard it is to make genocide feel fresh the third time around? It's basically a bad reboot at this point."
(He shrugs, puts the katana away, and pulls out… a fidget spinner. It's shaped like Thanos's chin. He stares into it like it holds the secrets of reality. It does not.)
DEADPOOL:
"Killing gets old when the Author's got his favorite's plot armor turned on max settings. Like, let's be honest—Punisher or even me could never beat the Marvel Universe even with a strong Wi-Fi connection and a heart full of friendship. And you? You, author insert with your Max Steel powers and anime intro theme? You'd get folded into a pretzel, dipped in hummus, and tossed into a kiddie pool if the mutants went all out."
(He stretches his chest out proudly like a discount Captain America.)
DEADPOOL:
"But not me. Nope. I'm the Author's favorite plot point. A narrative Swiss Army knife. An all-purpose chaos gremlin with a fanbase of unhinged teens and exhausted adults."
(He pulls out a shiny rock—no, wait, a Stone—capital S. It pulses with ominous narrative energy.)
DEADPOOL:
"BEHOLD! The Plot Device Stone-inator. Guaranteed to make your MC more relevant, emotionally scarred, and shaped like a fever dream."
(He walks over to the unconscious MC, who's been lying there like a forgotten IKEA project.)
DEADPOOL (to the audience):
"Kids, don't get funny ideas. This isn't that kind of fanfic..... yet. I'm not doing anything weird. This is strictly spiritual narrative yoga. I'm doing God's work. Or at least the Author's."
(He begins molding the MC. Literally. Like Play-Doh that cries offscreen.)
DEADPOOL:
"Ever notice how some stories hand the MC infinite power, a dozen love interests, and a tragic past that sounds suspiciously like every anime intro ever? Boom. That's what we call the Wish Fulfillment Wet Wipe. And I'm cleaning up, baby."
(He presses the stone to the MC's forehead like a weird baptism. The MC's body contorts and reshapes into impossible forms. A centaur with abs? Done. A sentient sword with daddy issues? Easy. A walking vending machine that dispenses emotional damage and hugs? You got it.)
DEADPOOL:
"Relax, readers. I'm not doing anything bad to him. I'm not that kind of Deadpool. I'm the good Deadpool. The PG-13 cut. The one with parental guidance and a suspiciously high body count."
(He holds up a shiny, gold-plated Desert Eagle, engraved with "To the Nicest Boy - From You Know Who 😉")
DEADPOOL (sniffing dramatically):
"I got this from another me in another timeline. Said I was the 'nicest Deadpool.' We cried. We hugged. We emotionally farted. It was beautiful. It was two tips touching."
(He begins tapping the MC with the butt of the gun, like he's shaping dough. Each hit makes the MC glow brighter, shinier, and more narratively ridiculous.)
DEADPOOL (cheerful, singing):
🎵 "This little MC went OP… this little MC got angst… this little MC lost his parents… and this little MC won the harem lottery. 🎵"
(He stops, looks at the camera, dead serious.)
DEADPOOL:
"Why make a realistic protagonist when you can give him abs, trauma, philosophy, talking habit of a redditor and inexplicable cosmic power without any training montage? It's like giving a toddler a bazooka and saying 'go play in traffic.' Except the toddler is hot, emotionally repressed, and destined to save the world with the power of friendship and a giant sword made of metaphors."
(He turns back to the MC. The MC now looks like a cross between Goku, Batman, and a rejected Pokémon evolution. Somewhere, a fangirl faints.)
DEADPOOL:
"Boom. Fixed him. He's sexy, tragic, and unstable—just like me at a convention meet-and-greet."
(He dusts off his hands. Winks.)
DEADPOOL (to Author):
"Your move, gremlin. I made your MC readable. I gave him plot juice, trauma muscles, and the kind of moral ambiguity that gets clicks. Now give him a personality that isn't just 'sighs deeply' and 'broods by moonlight.'"
(He slaps the MC's new ass. It echoes and jiggles.)
DEADPOOL (walking away, humming):
"Another day, another timeline I didn't get banned from. I'm gonna go drink some chocolate milk and emotionally gaslight the laws of physics. Peace out, plot potatoes."
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[TO BE CONTINUED IN: "DEADPOOL AND THE SHAPE-SHIFTED SHONEN CHAD" — Coming soon to an unapproved AO3 tag near you.]
PS: Feels like Daddy Deadpool isn't getting much views. So for the kids I will end it in the next chapter.