>>51778
I believe that's the intended effect. Lester is very much like a puppy in this series. Template fun at /co/ to illustrate this.

Frankencastle was very fun. There's a part of me that loved seeing Daken dragged around by his silly mullet.

Do I need to post the panel where Bullseye mentions needing to fap to Castle? Daken versus Frank was equally fun, but strangely enough, not as gay as this.
What. Yes.

>>51798
Your wish is my command!

>>51803 So much crazy love <3

spoilered for gen

>>52098
I think... that is the first time I've ever seen Daken smile. not crazy malicious glee, but wee I'm happy smile. HOW BIZARRE.

>>52098
Oh god the pinkies.

>>52098
>Daken
>Danzig

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK YEAH

Wolverine was born Glen Danzig in 1832, but changed his name to Logan, after his real biological father's barber

>>52155
Tiiiim! I was afraid we'd lost you.

>>52161
...huh?

Hastily drawn porn with REALLY bad perspective! Haven't had a lot of time to draw but you people put this in my head!

>>52195
Oh yes please. This pairing took me by surprise.

>>52207
Agreed. I can't unsee, but only because I really don't want to.

>>52195

This picture made me laugh. "An attempt at background, maybe?"

My head read that in Dr. Zoidberg's voice, completely ignoring the porn. I'M SO SORRY

Sexy Deadpool in Canada's finest outproducts: maple syrup and, um, lumberjacks? Because Wade hasn't shown up here for a little bit.

>>52349
is this wade trying to appeal to logan? "look wolvie, canadiana and flannel! num-nums!"

>>52349

I CUT DOWN TREES, I SKIP AND JUMP, I LIKE TO PRESS WILDFLOWERS
I PUT ON WOMEN'S CLOTHING, AND HANG AROUND IN BARS

>>52358
>>52410
Talk about your 'can not un-see'! Poor Logan!

I was sitting on this in the middle of the Robin, and then I kind of forgot I wrote it (I am that spacey) until someone mentioned Wade. Bullseye/Deadpool is my pet pairing that I need to indulge more often.
==

"Heeey, knock knock!"

Wade cracked the bottom of a bottle against polished wood in the familiar rhythm of 'shave and a haircut' and received no reply. The place was deserted, and of course there would be no one else around at this hour, but where did Lester have to go? Huh. No matter. He dropped down onto the floor on his (very shapely, if he dared say so himself) ass and leaned back against the (there was a joke here) wood, cracking the bottle open and setting its partner to the side.

"Silent treatment again, eh? Oh, well! Your loss," said Wade, tugging his mask up over his nose. "I brought you a beer too... I guess I'll just have to drink them both myself." One for me, one for you, little yellow boxes.

None for you, white box, you've been misbehaving.

Wade took a generous gulp, wiping the back of his mask against the back of his hand. "I know you're in there, rookie," he called. "Too good for me now that you've been an Avenger, are you? I'll have you know I was an X-man!"

Well, no. Yes. Technically yes. No. ... what mattered was he should have been!

"So, all that money you gave me," continued Wade, scratching at the scarred flesh of his now bared jaw. "I was thinkin' of going out somewhere, you an' me. Like the old times. You still like Greece? Who am I kidding, of course you still like Greece. Or maybe just Greek. A very certain Greek. Rumor has it you also like Japan lately."

Wade drummed his fingers around the neck of his bottle, waiting for the bait to be taken, but there wasn't a peep.

"... still not talking, huh." Wade sulked and took another gulp of beer.

With a loud, exaggerated sigh, Wade stretched his arms up high above his head. "Suit yourself then, rookie," he said. "You'll be getting postcards in a week with pictures of me with a babe on each arm, labelled: wish you were here, except not because you're a giant party pooper." Heh, pooper. Weren't they classier with the jokes than that these days?

Wade waited and then he waited a little more until he had to fill the silence with his own voice again. "Now, I didn't mean that," he apologized quickly. "You're the life of the party!" Oh, who was Wade kidding, they both knew that Wade was really the one who stole the show, but he was feeling generous if it would coax Lester out. "I bet we can find lots of hookers that speak Greek." He paused, before adding in a quieter voice: "Or Japanese..."

The silence dragged on still, and finally Wade stumbled up to his feet again. "... rookie?"

Wade ran his hand along the smooth wood and knocked again. "C'mon, rookie, open up..."

It was another one of their games, Wade was certain, and who cared? If he was being so stubborn about it, he could let Lester win this time. Not like their score wasn't already largely in Wade's favor.

Wade rubbed his hands together before grabbing on and pushing open the lid of the coffin.

Wade was expecting a pounce, then a loudly proclaimed 'gotcha!' before he was wrestled to the floor while loudly insisting that he wasn't fooled. Wade waited for it, and waited and waited some more, drumming his fingers along the coffin's rim.

"Hey," he murmured, as if it could have been something as accidental as Lester passing out while he waited for Wade to show. His hand reached out as if to nudge him, but he didn't dare touch. "Hey, rookie..."

Lester was utterly unmoving, paler than he should have been, and he wasn't showing any signs of jumping up anytime soon. Wade tensed up before he slumped down like he'd been deflated. "Oh..."

Wade leaned his weight into the coffin's side, tugging his mask back into place to hide how his lips turned downward. "So you too, huh, rookie..."

Wade took a long pause, as if expecting to be replied to or interrupted, before he accepted that it wouldn't happen, and he spoke again, his voice very quiet. "I know you don't make friends well." Wade could imagine that scribbled all over Lester's report cards, along with lots of frowny faces, if he even went to school at all. "But, you should talk to Nate for me. Big rippling techno-organic muscles and pouches... you can't miss him."

Wade paused for a long moment. "But I miss him," he admitted in a small voice. It wasn't like he and Nate hadn't done this routine more than once before. Death was but a revolving door for an X-man, especially a time-traveling one.

Lester, though, didn't get those privileges.

Wade left the lid open when he stepped back, collecting his beer again. He tucked the unopened one by Lester's stiff arm, noting thoughtfully: hey, when he woke up, he'd probably feel like he needed some booze. Wade knew he would if it were him. Death was a tricky business, after all.

"I miss you too, rookie."

Wade rubbed his nose through his mask as he turned away, his shoulders slumped. That was two of them gone now. He'd have to go searching for Taskmaster, and check if he was still in one piece (superhero deaths did always come in threes, or was that celebrities?). Maybe he'd drink booze with him, or give him the silent treatment on purpose.

What came next all happened very suddenly. Wade was hit with enough force to steal his voice away (for once in his life) and he crashed down to the floor, pinned there by a weight so firm it only came from having adamantium on your bones. A laugh echoed, and a hot hiss of breath reached Wade's ear even through the mask.

"Gotcha."

Wade didn't mind losing that round.

>>52586
Oh my god, I was going to ask you about this tonight!

....and then I read it and YOU MADE ME CRY!... and then I loled, so sweet. I would greentext you the parts I liked but you might as well reread it. You write Wade really well. (and both of his boxes)

>>52586 Oh ffff... You just killed me a bit. So much love.

>>52593
>>52665
Aw, thanks guys! I don't usually write stuff like this, but I needed to vent my sadness somehow! I'm glad you liked Wade, since I find he's an easy character to get very very wrong very fast, and I was worrying about that. (I didn't really make you cry, did I? That's just, figure of speech kind of thing, right? I am so sorry)

I'm attaching some sentimental Logan from next week's preview so my post isn't entirely a waste of space. I'm loving this arc so much.

>>52674 No prob.

The preview has me lulzing, Daken's constant oh shit face and attempts at crawling away are disproportionately entertaining.

>>52685
Isn't it great? I find watching Daken getting screwed over is as much fun as him screwing over other people.

On another note, I will honestly try reading anything that has characters I like in it. That includes reading a story about a monkey hitman because it features Lester. While it is as ridiculous as the premise implies, I did enjoy seeing Lester dressing up in a suit for once... albeit over top of his other suit. This is Lester's idea of 'fancy' apparently.

I think Daken needs to do something about this.

>>52687
>>52586
Wade, you adorable woobie little shit. Why is it so cute when the psychopaths woob?

Also, have some fic! Daken getting screwed over and things forgotten about during the RR, check! :D

--

Whoever's back there slinking through the shadows, they're finally starting to get on Victor's nerves. This whole damn country annoys him, crammed to the brim with yippy little yellow dogs and stinking like shit no matter where he goes. He never would've figured that this is where Jimmy'd run off to, not after the last time.

He turns down an alley clogged with garbage, crates and baskets overflowing and lines of ragged old clothing dangerously close to dangling into the filth. Left into another, right then left again, the stench stinging his nose and forcing his tail out into the murky light for a brief moment, long enough for him to catch a glimpse of black ink coiling over dark skin. It's no mark he recognises.

Past a blind alley and a quick double back turns this pathetic excuse for a chase around. He stands at the mouth and waits for his tail to realise it. A few quiet shuffling steps and a long sigh trickle through the muffled street din.

The kid that comes stepping out of the black is too tall for a pure blood, too much muscle packed onto his lean frame. A vague foreign cast to his features, the thick tail of hair swept back over his skull and the Western style clothes he's wearing suggest street thug, but something about that doesn't settle right in Victor's gut. Looks more like he's playing the part than living it.

He says, "Hello," like it's all his idea to be backed into a corner. No accent, smooth as the smile sitting on his face.

"Now, I'm curious," Victor says, pushing aside a dangling string of lanterns. "What do you think's going to happen here?"

"You're not going to kill me," the kid says, slinking back a step for every one Victor takes forward, "or you'd have done it already."

The air's heavier here, humid. Sweat glistens in the hollow of the kid's throat, thickening his scent. Victor's eyes narrow. He ignores the sickly sweet stink of rotted fruit and tastes the air, not sure he believes what his nose is telling him. "Got a name, kid?"

"This is where I ask if it's so you know what to scream, isn't it." The kid's shoulders hit the wall and he leans back, arms folded, all settled in for a nice, casual chat. "Let's be trite; tit for tat."

"Three hours on my ass and you don't know who I am?" Victor clucks his tongue. "Now that's sloppy."

The kid's smile tries to go sheepish, but it doesn't match the gleam in his eyes. "Would you believe you're not who I thought you were?"

"Sure." The air goes thicker still, tangible as a whisper on skin, and pushes its way down Victor's throat to prowl warm through his belly. "Anything else you'd like me to believe while you're at it?"

The kid's gaze jumps to his hand as he moves in close. "You don't need those."

Victor lifts a hand, studies the curl of his claws as they lengthen, and beyond that, the sliver of doubt that shows in the kid's dark eyes. "No," he says, "but it's more fun this way."

"Akihiro," the kid says, smile slinking back into place. The twist of his scent on the air says it's not a lie, but it's not the truth, either. Not according to him. Victor props a hand on the wall beside his head, claws scratching grey lines through the porous plaster, and waits. "Daken," he finally admits, sharp cut to the vowels. "Adorable, isn't it."

Victor hates the language but he knows it well enough, and even if the sound of the name grates on his ears the gist behind it doesn't. "Well, Daken," he says on a slow breath, trying out the way it slices off his tongue and sharpens the curve of his smile, "show me how much you're like your daddy."

Three thick lines of red blossom on Daken's cheek before the kid's slick smile has time to finish flipping over to a snarl. His arms come up, hands curled into fists and dark shadows slicing up the backs of his hands. The iron tang of blood fills the close air, sweetly familiar, and Victor catches his wrists, digs claws into all the same vulnerable gaps between bone. Daken's freer with the thin noises of his pain when the jagged black claws slicing out through his hands slide to an abrupt stop.

While Victor's sizing them up, more curious than worried about the differences in texture and the extra wicked curve to the cutting edges, the kid drags in a shaky breath and says, "You knew him."

"Better than he knew himself," Victor says, willing to risk the kid being quick to heal to scrape the point of his claws against Daken's. They're rougher than Jimmy's, stronger, shaped to hurt as much as kill. But they still reek of blood, of tender insides and brittle, breakable things. The warmth pushing at the edges of Victor's consciousness rises up in a slow, rippling wave. He breathes it in, lets it twine its way all through his veins. "Tell me, kid. Is that really how you want this to go?"

Anger sparks in Daken's eyes, swiftly yanked back and rolled under a softer, smouldering light. "It's not a bad deal."

"Oh, now it's a deal," Victor says, playing only a little at lazy and distracted as he dips down to sniff the shallow glisten on the kid's throat. He drags the tips of his nails down Daken's side, slicing through the light and clingy cloth to get at the flesh beneath. Muscles curve thickly under his palm, flushed hot and tense. His claws find the soft give above Daken's kidneys. "What do I get for sticking you with my dick instead?"

A whisper of agitation slithers through Daken's scent. "A good time," he says, his eyes closing slightly, an attempt to hide the effort it takes to rein his emotions back in. The kid's good for his age but he's still too much like Jimmy, giving away all his secrets in the hard thud of his heart against his ribs. He grunts as he chest hits the wall, goes lose and easy when Victor kicks his feet apart, but there's a sweet taint of resentment glinting like gold beneath the calm surface.

Victor nuzzles at the back of his neck, says, "You smell like him," just to feel the ripple of hate tighten his muscles. He makes a low noise when teeth dig into flesh, a brief echo of genuine pain before he flips it over to pleasure, bows his head and asks for more. Victor licks the blood from his teeth. "Want me to tell you how much you taste like him, too?"

"No," Daken says, smooth like he just doesn't care, and as easy as that lie rolls off his tongue, that's as deep as it goes. He stinks like desperation, pretending he doesn't want to hear all about the father he thinks dead, clinging to hate the same way Jimmy does, fooling himself into thinking it's easier to handle that festering in his gut. He grasps clumsily at his belt buckle, his fingers still not working right, his half-sheathed claws catching on the hem of his shirt. "Tell me about how soon I'm going to smell like you. And help me, unless you're planning on a dry hump in a back alley," he says, giving up and tilting his head a little to the side to invite the scrape of teeth over the thick tendon in his neck.

Denim and leather split like skin beneath Victor's claws. He hooks them over the edges of Daken's teeth to pull his mouth open, but instead of bitching like his daddy, he laughs quietly and shoves at torn cloth. He frees his mouth with a quick jerk. "This isn't going to be nearly as much fun as I thought if I have to talk you through it."

"You know, he never let me enjoy myself either," Victors says, wedging his knuckles back between Daken's teeth, grinning as their blunt edges grate against bone. The harsh noise he makes when a claw pierces his tongue lights sparks like flint in Victor's blood. He drags his fingers free and adds some extra spit, sliding them up between the cheeks of Daken's ass to where he's smooth and tight, quivering a little like Jimmy used to when the tips of his claws would brush too close to tender flesh. "He'd heal. Will you?"

"I'd like it," Daken counters, nostrils flaring on a breath so sharp Victor can't tell if it's eagerness or a bluff. "Would he?"

Victor's mouth quirks up at one corner. "And here I thought you didn't want to talk about him," he says, and spreads his fingers wide, delicately nicks the rim of Daken's asshole. It's barely more than a pinprick but it trips some switch buried in Daken's head, the black of his pupils blossoming wide and a little glassy. Fitting his palm to the high curve of Daken's ass, he sets his claws one by one to the thin skin at the join of his thigh and drags slowly upward, carving five neat shallow lines straight up to the base of the kid's spine. Daken holds perfectly still for it, breath coming faster, eyes fluttering shut. There's so much twisting through his scent that Victor's not sure if it's an act for not, but it doesn't really matter. He's taking it, and Victor likes it.

And he takes the rough shove of Victor's cock just as easily, squirming for that like he hadn't the other, arching his back to keep the long gritty push going. Victor eases back to slick up a little more, spread him open again to watch as sweet pink flesh stretches wide around his dick. Two short sharp thrusts break up the steady flow of Daken's breathing, and when Daken shoves back, goes to drop down with his hands braced on the wall, Victor drives him right back up against it with a hand clamped to the back of his neck.

"Let me guess," Daken rasps, "it's more fun this way."

"Something like that," Victor agrees, and fills his lungs with the heat pouring from Daken's skin. He lifts the tangle of Daken's hair up off his neck and noses up under it, twists it around his knuckles and props his hand on the wall to fuck up into him a little harder, then a little more when his body adjusts to it just as fast as Jimmy's does. They're so much the same but the kid's still got her in him, turning him long and lean where Jimmy's thick and blunt, making him quick to give way where Jimmy would hold stubbornly fast, break instead of bend. And as sweet as the noises are that Daken's making, they're coming a little too easily, pitched just right to dig under Victor's skin. He palms the back of Daken's skull and shoves the side of his face flush to the wall. "It's not nice to lie."

"Thought you'd like it," Daken says, cheekbone grating across the dirty plaster as he tries to twist free. "Since it's what you're used to."

A snarl scrapes the back of Victor's throat. He catches Daken's pulse between his teeth and presses his tongue against it to feel it jump. He gouges into flesh to get the taste of blood spilling down his throat and the noise that comes hissing out of Daken then isn't anything close to a lie. "I like that better," Victor says, and drags his tongue up over Daken's jaw, painting it with a slick line of watery red.

Daken's answer is the glint of a knife-edged grin and his tongue shoving into Victor's mouth. He chases down the salty slick of his own blood, licks it from the points of Victor's teeth and ends up slicing his tongue on one. He makes another one of those noises, nothing like what would come tumbling grudgingly out of Jimmy's throat, and rubs the shallow wound deliberately against Victor's teeth again, widening it just enough to coat both of their tongues with an iron tang. A small stain lingers at the corner of his lips when he pulls back. He smiles again, smug like he's sucked a secret out of Victor's mouth.

A flicker of black against the plaster catches Victor's eye a second before Daken's claws skim up under his throat. They gouge into his hand instead, grating against bone as he twists his wrist. There's barely any give compared to Jimmy's and he sets his teeth, curls his fingers down and twists harder. Real pain flashes in Daken's eyes right before they snap, and then it's a choked-off howl that's echoing in Victor's head, honey-thick and marrow-deep. Where Jimmy would thrash and snarl, Daken goes shock-still, more than enough time for Victor to yank the broken claws out with his teeth, spit one into his good hand and and drive it straight through the base of Daken's neck.

"That wasn't very nice, either," Victor purrs, and lines up, buries his dick to the root while Daken's rage burbles uselessly in his ruined throat. The kid can't even breathe right before he starts fighting back, but he's still not his daddy and he's bleeding out fast, nowhere left to squirm off to trapped between the wall and the hard shove of Victor's dick. Fingers scrabble blood-slick over the curl of Victor's fist, blunt nails scraping over his knuckles, prying desperately between, all the easy give in him gone, his body jolting with the snap of Victor's hips. He fights it the whole way now, tight and perfect, blood bubbling over their fingers in a wet scream.

Jerking the jagged chunk of Daken's claw free, Victor kicks Daken's legs out from under him, grip tight in his hair to keep his knees from touching the ground. The wound on his throat gapes, crooked as his smile was, mouth hanging open as he tries to fill his lungs. Victor wraps a hand around his dick to aim the shot of his come high on the sharp cut of the kid's dirty cheek, smearing blood-speckled lips shiny wet. He skims his thumb across the slit and pushes it into Daken's mouth, claw tearing at delicate tissues as he forces the taste of his come down the back of the kid's throat.

Victor sinks slowly down onto his haunches, gently brushing the damp mess of Daken's hair back from his face. The worst of his wounds have stopped their bleeding, the smallest have already closed. In ten minutes he'll be whole again, not a mark on him to show for it where anyone will see. With smile for the rage boiling in his eyes, Victor breathes in deep to memorise the smell of it all tangled up with the fresh stink of sex and blood. "I'll tell daddy his little fag says hi," he says, and presses a soft kiss to the watery red tear trickling from the dig of his claw at the corner of the kid's eye.

>>52692
I didn't realize how much I wanted this pairing until now! I love this. The banter is great. I wish I could put my finger on a good word for your style. There's something so distinct in it, but any exact terms escape me. It's such a good kind of gritty shamelessness.

>>52692
yay for victor! haven't seen him around any of the snickters for so long *sad face*
btw. that was (disturbingly) hot

>>52692

Thank you, kind anon! I have such a thing for this pairing and that was really fucking good. Loved it.

/fa/

>>53015
This is delicious. Camuncoli needs to always draw Daken. Always. No one else does him even half as well in expressions or dress. So damn /fa/

Look at your Wolverine, now back to me, now back to your Wolverine, now back to me. Sadly, he isn't me, but if he stopped wearing yellow spandex and switched to pin-striped vests, he could look like me.

Guys we're going to get two more issues of this before the Bullseye arc is over.

WHERE'S THE FANDOM TO TIDE ME OVER TILL THEY COME OUT? I need more of this. I read all of Punisher MAX I think I deserve it.

>>53065
The wait is killing me too, believe me. I was just about to ask if anyone had some writing prompts (in general, but I could try MAX for sure) throw it at me?

>>53071 I love this picture. Makes me want to see MAX-Bullseye meet 616-Bullseye - the conversation would be hilarious, well once they were done trying to kill each other.

>>53040

YOU KILLED ME. Look at your Wolverine. Dying laughing SO MUCH.

So close ~

>He knows what he wants, and how he's going to get it-and let me tell you, he is feeling pretty darn sexy about the whole thing.

Man, I'm looking forward to this series.

>>52748 >>52787 >>52790

You guys~ I am just so fsking gleeful over EVERYTHING in this thread. Comics are awesome. So. Awesome.

S-stupid confusingly sexy crossover! It's not like I like you or anything!

Except I do. So much.

>>53071
This pic is absolutely killing me because from the thumbnail, it looks like Frank's hair is tied up into a really really ridiculously stupid-looking fountain.

>>53703
Okay, I lol'd.

>>53703
Someone else visited /co/ today, I see. That thread is cracking me up. The gay edit is superior.

>The post Dark Avengers years are really sad. Poor Daken has had to resort to camwhoring, and does Tony Stark give him Luke Cage's number so he can get in touch with the Thunderbolts and sort out his life? No, he smirks while waving around his credit card and ordering porn from the comfort of his nice cushy Avengers Tower. What a dick.

CROTCH GRAB

>>53847

actually this kinda creeps me out....

>>53892
Me too. The style is a little rough.

>>53892
>>54316
Methinks Daken is looking a little crazy because of the stone he took off of Castle.

... oh jesus, Three, your art is so adorable. I want to squish it. Would Wade's teasing have anything to do with this?

moar gen, for that fluff fic on marvelkink

http://marvelkink-v2.livejournal.com/597.html?thread=78933#t78933

>>54341
I'm not a fan of that particular fic, but your art is great. I love the style. It's really cute.

Previews are up. I guess the last part of the crossover got pushed back? We're getting this in the meantime. Still on the fence with this artist myself.

>>54352
I madly, deeply love Camuncoli. When someone else is drawing Daken it just doesn't compare. :/

>>54424
Also, autosage'd. Starting new thread.