HowlesJin
Trigger Warning. It's Deadpool. You know he himself is a warning label.
Cussing. Talking about inappropriate topics. Bob pissing on his chimichangas.
Minor suicidal behavior.
You ever meet a teenage girl who can flatten a truck with her mind and shoot starbeams out of her hands?
I have.
Hi, I'm Deadpool-professional cancer survivor, chimichanga connoisseur, and your narrator. This is the story of Star. Or, as I like to call her, Starburst. (She hates that. Which is why I do it.)
She's sixteen, angrier than a pissed-off honey badger, and convinced the world is better off without her. Spoiler alert: she's wrong.
A few months ago, she was about to step off a rooftop and end it all. Then I showed up-like the spandex-clad guardian angel I never asked to be-and ruined her suicide attempt with my relentless charm and questionable life advice.
Since then, she's been stuck with me, my ugly little chihuahua Bob, and my big mouth. Colossus says she belongs with the X-Men. She says they can go to hell. Honestly? I'm rooting for her.
This is not your feel-good hero origin story. There are no shiny capes, no heartwarming lessons. Just a kid who never asked for powers she can't control, a mercenary with more baggage than a soap opera, and an old dog who pees on everything I love.
Welcome to our messed-up little family.
Enjoy the ride. Or don't. I'm not your mom.