#the characterization was all over the place

[stellar-solar-flare]

Hehehe, I knew where this was going from the summary but yet, seeing it unfold on page was just delightful!

I don't often go for post-Endgame fics, even AUs, but I was definitely reeled in by the way we saw, even in this one short chapter, about how there are so many issues because of everything that happened with the whole Thanos ordeal. And I love Pepper as the force that is trying to help all these people and put the influence and budget of Stark Industries to work - that feels like such a great way to honor Tony's legacy, and something he would want to happen when he's gone.

“Well, then let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. I don’t know how you think I can help, but clearly you’ve got an idea.”

And I mean this is like 100% Steve jumping in before he even knows what's going to be asked of him - I mean, yes, Pepper knows who he is and wouldn't ask anything that is against his morals but also I love every instance of Steve just being the sentence 'I am here to help, what can I do?' in a physical form.

"That's exactly why you'd be perfect, Steve. You're not entrenched in the political machine. You have a moral compass that's unwavering, and a desire to help those who need it, no matter what.”

I like her reasoning, and also I ADORED the way Steve immediately jumped to think if he's good enough for this and qualified, how he's a soldier, not a politician... A man that first thinks about the responsibilities instead of the power is a man after my own heart.

"You've shown that you're willing to stand up for what you believe in, even when it costs you everything.”

Honestly if this isn't just Steve Rogers' character in one singular sentence, I don't know what is. I love your way of writing him, the characterization is just astronomically good. You get him and I'm always delighted to find writers whose characterizations I can get behind.

I also adore the idea of him getting a good team this time, and the support, instead of just being flung headfirst into a world he does not understand (glares at canon). And the fact that Pepper also mentioned Nat's sacrifice in addition to Tony's felt like the cherry on top - I am still salty over the way they sort of glossed over her death in canon and I'm glad it's being spun as one reason for them to try to make the world a better place in this fic.

I am delighted with this, thank you so much for sharing! What an interesting idea and a wonderful characteriztion, and not to mention that your writing is so smooth and seamless that it's really gripping! I am definitely looking forward to diving into the next parts and finding out how Reader plays into all of this.

Red, White & True - Prologue

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers (future x curvy Millennial Female!Reader), Pepper Potts Word Count: 1.3k Summary: "There was an idea..." Words at the heart of what brought the Avengers together. Steve Rogers is no longer an Avenger, having retired after The Snap and passed his shield along to Sam Wilson, but Pepper Potts has a new idea to bring Steve back out of retirement - but in a totally different arena.

Content/Warnings: none

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

PROLOGUE

[MAY 1 - Upstate New York]

“You know I’m always happy to come out to the farm,” Steve says, rinsing the last plate and handing it to the strawberry blonde woman so she can dry and put it back on the shelf. “I love to see you and Morgan. But what do you want to talk to me about, Pepper?”

Pepper gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s go to the study,” she answers, and leads the way to the back of the modern but rustic home. She takes a seat on the couch and motions for Steve to sit on the other end.

“I was sitting right here when Tony stood over there,” she nods her head toward a spot in front of Steve, “and told me he figured out the science of time travel.”

Steve’s chest aches at her words. “Pepper…”

She holds up a hand to stop him. “No, don’t apologize. I told him that was amazing and terrifying. Then we sat here together and really talked. He told me he could stop, put a pin in it, that part of him wanted to bury the idea in a lock box at the bottom of the lake. But I reminded him that we were lucky not to have lost each other in the Blip and so many others weren’t.”

She pauses for a moment and looks to the mantle where there’s a small, retired arc reactor on display. Steve waits for her to continue.

“When I started working for him, I had no idea where it would all lead. I certainly didn’t have aspirations to date my boss or become the CEO of Stark Industries. Tony will always be the love of my life, and each day that goes by, each month, each year, I miss him, but the missing hurts less. What’s left is the whisper, the urge of the legacy of everything that’s still here and what I can do with it. I haven’t been idle, but I’ve been trying to ignore my own time travel issue, if you will.”

Steve can hardly hold himself back from scoffing. “The medical research, the humanitarian initiatives, the scientific advances you’re still spearheading, it’s just not really enough if you can’t solve for world peace,” he jokes.

Pepper cocks her head slightly. “The thing is, I have an idea of where I could start on that last one.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, and he studies her face. “Okay…” he knew his voice was conveying his curiosity but also his trepidation.

“Stark Industries helps a lot of people, but there are things I can’t help no matter how hard I try there. The world is in a bigger mess than science can help, only so much can be done with humanitarian work, and there’s an area that’s haunting me because I’ve tried to stay out of it for as long as I could, and I just don’t think I can any more, not and still sleep at night.”

“Well, then let’s talk about it. You know I’m here for you, whatever you need. I don’t know how you think I can help, but clearly you’ve got an idea.”

“I know you retired one suit, but I’d like you to think about another.”

“Pep-”

“Not that kind of suit,” she interrupts. “There are still some good, decent people in politics, but money has poisoned so much of what goes on - lobbyists, special interests, politicians needing to fundraise. But I’ve got money. I could fund a campaign.”

Steve frowns. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“I need a candidate, and there’s no one I would trust more than you. I want to finance your campaign to run for President of the United States.”

Steve's eyes widen, and he feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. His mouth opens and closes, but he can’t think of any initial words to come out. He stands abruptly, his legs carrying him to the large window overlooking the serene lake outside. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow across the water, creating a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind.

"President?" he finally manages to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper. He turns back to face Pepper, his brow furrowed deeply. "Pepper, I... I don't know the first thing about running a country. I've been a soldier, an Avenger, but never a politician."

Pepper leans forward, her eyes bright with determination. "That's exactly why you'd be perfect, Steve. You're not entrenched in the political machine. You have a moral compass that's unwavering, and a desire to help those who need it, no matter what.”

“And sometimes I failed.”

“It made you wiser every time.”

Steve plants his hands on his hips and sighs. “Pep, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn who wanted to serve his country.”

Pepper leans forward, her eyes intense and earnest. "And you've done that, Steve. You've served this country in ways most people can't even imagine. Think about what you could do as President. The impact you could have, the changes you could make. You've always fought for what's right, even when it wasn't easy or popular. That's exactly what this country needs right now."

Steve turns back to the window, his mind racing. He thinks of all the battles he's fought, the sacrifices he's made. Could he really make a difference from the Oval Office? Or would the political machine chew him up and spit him out?

"What about my past?" he asks, still facing the lake. "The Accords, going rogue, all of it. It would all come out in a campaign."

He hears Pepper stand and approach him. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your past is part of what makes you the right person for this, Steve. You've shown that you're willing to stand up for what you believe in, even when it costs you everything.”

He can feel Pepper's eyes on him, waiting for a response. He takes a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

"I appreciate your faith in me, Pepper. I really do," he begins, still facing the lake. "But this isn't like leading a team into battle. The complexities of running a country, the constant scrutiny, the compromises you have to make... I'm not sure I'm cut out for that."

"Steve, that's exactly why you'd be perfect for this. You understand the weight of responsibility. You've made tough decisions under pressure. And most importantly, you have a clear vision of what's right and what's wrong."

Steve turns to face her, his expression conflicted.

“I won’t lie to you,” she continues, “the public scrutiny will be worse, but it’s not something you’re unfamiliar with. Just like before, you’ll have people singing your praise and people ready to crucify you just for sport. But we’ll face it head-on. You won’t do any of it alone. We’ll put together a team of friends, people we trust, experts and strategists. We’ll find people outside our camp who will challenge us to make the campaign stronger. And when we get you in the White House, no president leads alone. You have a history of seeing the value in the people around you and bringing teams together. It’ll just be fighting a different fight.”

Steve thinks over her words. “In a different suit.”

She smiles. “You’ll do it?”

“Answer one more question for me.”

Pepper nods. “Anything.”

“Why do this?”

Steve sees the conviction settle in her entire demeanor, and that shift alone convinces him the rest of the way, but her words cement his resolve down to his core.

“Tony and Natasha didn’t sacrifice just to leave something broken behind. It’s time to help put things back together and try to leave a legacy of something better.”

go to chapter one: MANHATTAN & BROOKLYN

This is an idea that sparked in during the huge sleepover I hosted in July 2023, and it's been tantalizing me for a long time, but now the muse is finally ready to play with it! gee, I wonder why...

I can't wait to bring you along for the ride! This story will have 3-4 chapters, depending on where I split up the narrative. I anticipate about a chapter a week.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[hellsitedotcom]

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*·˚ FIRST KISS HEADCANONS : SUNDAY *·˚

Yeah, Sunday escalated a little, which is why he was moved to this post, lol. That's...kinda throwing off my initial plan for these posts. Anyways, bone app the teeth??

*·˚ warnings/info: well, there's obviously going to be mentions of kissing; reader implied to be shorter than Sunday. *·˚ english isn't my native language!

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⭒˚｡⋆ Sunday ⭒˚｡⋆

⇢ Sunday the kinda guy to have his first kiss after an old-fashioned date or something. I mean, my characterizations of everyone keep changing more extremely than the weather in Germany, but yeah, bare with me for the current one. ⇢ Spending time with Sunday (and sometimes Robin) was almost like an everyday occurrence to you. You were...friends? Well, you certainly were close. It wasn't unusual for you to be alone with him, have long conversations about nothing and everything, go out to get dinner with him. ⇢ And you didn't expect today to look any different when he invited you over to spend time with him at his place, thinking he just needed some company in Robin's absence. After all, you were close, and that's what people who got along with each other did - spend time together. ⇢ But, as you spent time with him, laughing over anything you found funny enough, you felt the energy between you was...different than usual. Sometimes you caught Sunday looking at you a little longer than usual, physical touch lingering, and eventually, you found yourself standing beside him on a balcony, overlooking the Morning Dew Dreamscape, your meeting slowly coming to an end.

''I don't think I'll ever get over this view,'' you sighed, leaning against the railing as you watched Morning Dew's sunrise. You had been to a handful of different Dreamscapes, but nothing could ever compare to those that shared the beauty of the morning sun with you. Beside you, Sunday chuckled softly, his shoulder almost brushing yours as he joined you, ''Well, maybe there's a beautiful sunrise somewhere out there just waiting for you to finally witness it.'' ''I have to find a way off this place first, no?'' you quipped, glancing over at him, ''And I guess I can't really do that until Robin returns. Can't just leave you alone, can I?'' When your eyes met his, you found that Sunday had already been looking at you, a gentle expression on his face. ''Well, I'm glad you're still around,'' he muttered quietly, his smile making you flustered, ''I don't think there's anyone whose company I enjoy more.'' ''Yeah? Huh, I don't think Robin would want to hear that,'' you joked, your voice softer than before, almost hesitant. The atmosphere around you was changing, the innocence of the early morning hours suddenly filled with another emotion, one you couldn't name just yet. Sunday just laughed at your response, turning to face the sun, ''I doubt she'd be surprised.'' ''I'm sure she realized it long before I did,'' he continued, catching you slightly off-guard. With a perplexed expression, you just stared at him, repeating his words in your head. You knew that Sunday considered you someone he shared a close relationship with - otherwise, you wouldn't be here right now - but it still made your heart skip a beat to hear him voice it all so openly. In the pale morning light, you found yourself entranced by him, watching the way the soft rays danced across his face, making his golden eyes shine even brighter than you had ever seen. His words kept repeating in your head, quietly, like a choir as your mind went through all the possible meanings behind the simple sentence. ''I hope she doesn't mind that I'm her brother's favorite,'' you finally spoke again, sounding far more off than you had expected, making Sunday turn to meet your gaze. He was smiling, a mixture of amusement and endearment on his face, ''She knew that it was bound to happen.'' ''Besides,'' he added, turning around to fully face you, ''I care about the two of you in very different ways. Robin is my sister, my family. And I love her the way you love your own blood.'' A heartbeat of silence. The world around you seemed to slow down, the ambiance noise as if muted while Sunday continued his speech, ''While my feelings for you and my sister aren't...that unalike, there is an important distinction. I feel familial love for Robin, while I feel something much deeper for you.'' The beating inside your chest made you think your heart was about to break out of your rib cage, and you didn't even realize that you had stopped breathing, unable to break eye contact as you stared at the man, straightening up while trying to process his words. Neither of you was saying anything right now. You were both just looking at each other, the atmosphere completely changed. Sunday seemed as if he was expecting an answer, but your mind was racing in overdrive, unable to form coherent thoughts. And, while Sunday was starting to grow slightly nervous given your...lack of response to his ''confession'', something inside you just- switched. The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, catching not just you, but also the man off-guard. ''May I kiss you?'' Another heartbeat of silence. Then, a soft chuckle, relief flooding Sunday's expression, ''You may.'' And you did, leaning forward, the nervousness terrorizing you as your lips met his in a soft, brief kiss before you pulled away again, your hands shaking slightly.

You were about to say something, comment on...everything that had been said and done today, but before you could come to word, Sunday cut you off with another kiss, this one longer, deeper, and as you stood there in the light of the early morning sun, you found yourself hoping the moment would never pass.

Sunday held you close after that, his forehead resting against yours as you just stood there, allowing the rays of sunlight to engulf you, the pale golden hue like a sign that you had made the right choice, that you had found the right one.

For the longest time, neither of you wanted to leave, lost in the other's embrace until Sunday slowly pulled away, a sigh escaping his lips, ''I fear I probably have to get back to work.''

''I- I know,'' you muttered, looking up at him, ''Just...a few more minutes? Is that alright? I just...I don't want you to leave yet.'' Your voice was quiet, almost fragile. You couldn't remember the last time you sounded this vulnerable.

And Sunday noticed, eyes widening momentarily before he began to smile, grabbing your chin to tilt your head up and place another brief kiss to your lips, ''Just a few more minutes, then I'll have to get back. But you're welcome to stay with me if you want.''

[ollimus-prime]

Hey :) , Loved your jazz hands and might i say that im absolutely obsessed with it. Could i request more? Maybe day in the life / slice of life of being held captive by jazz. Gosh we are just so helpless with him and jazz is special ops lmao. Is it wrong to say id be cool with it? -🐞

Jazz Hands Pt. 2

A/N, not important: Sorry if the characterization is off, I'm still learning. I'm only like, 90 comics in. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: kidnapped, you're basically a pet idk

Words: 1513

Summary: You're stuck with Jazz for now.

Pt. 1

The room was empty. You look around, glancing between the lone slab of metal your kidnapper, ‘Jazz’, slept on and the door. He was gone, really and truly gone. The desk you were left on gave you just enough of a view of the room to be certain, letting you slip nervously off of the pile of rags you now slept on. Hope bloomed in your chest before you angrily stamped it down, not letting yourself get too excited. This was possibly your only chance of leaving this horrid place, and you were not going to let something as pitiful as hope get in your way. No, you needed to be logical about this.

You carefully made your way to the edge of the desk, trying to judge the distance to the floor. The long way down made you feel dizzy, a pit forming in your stomach. The chair was slightly pushed out and, while a worrying distance still far down, was much more inviting than the floor. You try to steele your nerves to jump, working up the courage to take the fall. Sure, it was maybe 8 feet down, but the worst that could happen is you break something. You wince, starting to lose your nerve at the thought.

With carefully curated confidence and determination, you back away from the edge before bolting forwards and throwing yourself towards the chair, trying to keep your body loose as you fall. The fall is short but sickening, your mind reeling as the images of you broken on a chair for the robot who took you to find flashing through your head.

The landing is painful, your legs giving way under you and knocking you to your knees. You let yourself starfish out onto the chair and take deep breaths. Rushing getting up seemed more of a bad idea than the jump itself was. You carefully roll your ankles in a small circle as you lay there, making sure nothing was broken or damaged. Pleased with the results and your resolve growing once more, you push yourself up to inspect the next jump you had to make.

You sigh at the similar height down to the floor, internally wincing at the hard metal you’d be jumping down onto. While the chair was made of a similar material, the floor itself seemed all that more threatening. You steady yourself, getting ready to throw yourself off the next ledge and bolt to freedom. You change your tactic, lowering yourself down and hanging yourself off the edge of the chair instead of jumping straight down. With the height between your feet and the floor now much lower, you let go.

The impact on your legs is much easier to deal with. You smile wide as you merely wobble this time, almost laughing in joy at the realization you were now on the ground. You make your way over to the door, inspecting the gap between the floor. The gap was small, much smaller than anything you could squeeze through. Ideas float through your head as you inspect the door, trying to come up with some way to get out and get away.

The door wasn’t willing to budge no matter how much you tried, and the keypad was much too far above you. Not like you knew the passkey for it anyways. You grit your teeth, kicking the door in frustration. Upon making impact with the door, a loud thud sounds. You freeze, looking at the door in confusion before you hear another one, then another. Panic wells up in you as you try to scramble away from the door as you realize what that sound was. Footsteps. 

Jazz was back.

The door slides open before you’re even close to somewhere you could hide, the surprised rev of his engine your only warning before you’re scooped into his hands. The speed at which he picks you up causes your head to spin. With no time at all, you’re eye-to-visor with him and he looks none too pleased.

“What’re you doing on the floor like that? I could’ve stepped on you!” He scolds, the vibrato of his voice washing over you. The deep sound still scared you. It surprised you how something so completely foreign and inhumane could sound so close to your own native tongue.

You bite down on your cheek in hopes to prevent yourself from retorting. The robot’s engine rumbles in frustration at your silence, his hands shifting so you’re settled in one while the other holds you still. Large fingers start to tousle your hair in the manner of a human to a mouse. 

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” The Porsche mutters in resignation, more to himself than to you. You try to bat away his fingers that seemed to yearn to squeeze the air out of you, the robot’s face contorting into a frown. You refused to engage with the robot in any positive way since you’ve been here, causing his insistence that you’re happy with him to come into question. It’s been nearly a month since he’s had you, and nearly a week since you had refused to even speak to him. It was the only way so far you could ‘fight back’. Especially since he and the others freak out if you skip even a single bite of food.

The ‘bot sighs after a while of you still refusing to respond, his hands cupping under you once more before depositing you onto his shoulder. The temptation to try and jump from his shoulder was quickly squashed with a quick glance down reminding you that you couldn’t make it unscathed. The height from the desk to the ground seemed like child's play now. You ease your way into the small space between where the car’s hood ended and the cables of his neck began, taking careful consideration to stand somewhere you weren’t going to lose a limb if he moved weirdly. The first couple steps made your stomach lurch and your hands cling desperately to the thick cables in hopes you wouldn’t be launched off the shoulder of the metal beast. It was a hated compromise, to cling to the monster that kidnapped you and made you a glorified pet or be dropped from thirty feet, but a necessary one.

The Porsche walks through the halls of the ship he brought you on, greeting the other robots he sees with an easy smile. You weren’t particularly sure where he was going, the ‘bots sure steps tussling you each time. You hated when he carried you like this, yet you weren’t willing to be held in his hands either.

It was a short walk to the room he wanted. The tables were occupied by other bots you didn’t care to find out the names of, garbled speech washing over you. You didn’t usually care to hear what they were saying, their conversations of ‘Decepticons’ and whatever war they spoke of going completely over your head. Nothing here made sense anyways.

The ‘bot under you walks over to the dispenser of their fuel(Energon, as he’d explained one) and draws a cube. The glowing pink liquid was mesmerizing. You were drawn to it in a way, the soft glow easier on your eyes than the harsh lights the rest of the ship had. He starts to drink from his cube-shaped glass while moving away from the dispenser to let others access it too. You stumble slightly as he moves, tensing back up against his neck in hopes to stay upright.

“Jazz,” One of the more robotic voices sounds. You scowl as you look towards the call, hiding further behind Jazz’s neck. The cop-bot stares at your movement as he regards the Porsche, his metal face scrunching up. “Ah. You brought your organic. Of course.”

Jazz’s engine revs slightly at the dig, his hand coming back up to cup around your form. You shrink away in an attempt to escape the new prison, but fail miserably as your space gets noticeably tighter. “Uh-huh. I don’t see the problem.”

“It’s an organic,” Prowl says with heavy judgment in his voice. Jazz sighs, his optic flashing at the tactician.

“They’re called humans, Prowl.”

“Sure,” He dismisses, ignoring the Porsche’s statement. He hands Jazz one of the large tablets the robots used. You zone out of the rest of their conversation, their heavy voices deep enough to go in one ear and out the other. You settle down against Jazz’s neck cables as his hand starts to rub at your head and back again. You kick at his fingers to no avail in an attempt to fight him off. The ‘bot pays no attention to your wants, instead shifting his hand so you can't fight back.

You slump back, bitter and miserable in your new state of life. Daydreams of hopping down heroically from the monster’s shoulder and running to freedom fill your head as you sulk. Maybe you could come up with a plan to finally get you out of here and back home.

Maybe.

[livelaughloveluffy]

when he's falling for you - eustass captain kid

a/n: surprise!!! i am officially starting to write for eustass now!! i have definitely been planning on writing for him for a while now, and now that i'm finally deeper into wano, i feel confident enough in my understanding and characterization of him!!!

nothing but fluff here 💗

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-kid isn't shy about his attraction towards you. "oi, hot stuff! get ya ass over here!" is a phrase you hear far too often... and your rosy cheeks definitely don't go unnoticed by him.

-eustass stops at absolutely nothing to tease you.. there's nothing the red-haired captain loves more than seeing you flushed and flustered by his words or actions. he'll whisper dirty things in your ear in front of the crew, "accidentally" brush his hand against your ass while giving you a sly smile. he just loves to watch you squirm.

-the captain is definitely a bit possessive over you... he'll stare daggers into any man too close to you, his large metal hand gripping your waist pulling you closer to his side.

-he's also surprisingly kind, and as much as he tries to play it off as something casual, you know better than that. kid's quiet gestures of affection easily stand out to your eye, when he softens his voice to speak to you, his subtle whispers checking in on you in front of the crew "ya doin okay, doll?"

-it also goes without saying how protective he is, the amount of times he's jumped in front of you during combat, taking hits at point blank range, all for your safety. and he doesn't ever say a word about it... no mutter, wince, or complaint of pain, nothing but worry filling his eyes as he tells you to get some place safe.

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a/n: ahhhhhhhh!!! eustass is just sooooo fun to write for!!! i will definitely be writing for him more in the future (probably when i'm procrastinating/taking breaks from my labs later this week 💀)

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[maybe-im-dark]

Weapon X by Marc Cerasini — a review

Marc Cerasini’s Weapon X novel is a bold, visceral adaptation of Wolverine’s origin story, drawn from the iconic comic by Barry Windsor-Smith. For fans of Wolverine, Cerasini’s adaptation is a powerful deep dive into the psyche of Logan as he endures one of the most horrifying transformations in comic book history. Cerasini’s attention to Logan's internal struggle and trauma elevates the novel from a straightforward adaptation to a harrowing character study, adding considerable weight and a fresh perspective.

One of the novel's strongest points is how vividly it captures Logan’s dissociative episodes during the adamantium bonding procedure. Cerasini brilliantly uses these moments to give readers Logan’s perspective, grounding the pain and terror in his memories. To cope with the trauma, Logan’s mind takes him back to his time working for the Canadian secret service in Korea, where he carried out a mission alongside his partner Neil Langram. It’s in Korea that he also meets Miko Katana, adding some layered background to his character and further illustrating his painful journey before Weapon X. This narrative choice not only gives readers a glimpse into Logan’s pre-Weapon X life but also provides insight into his survival instincts—how he copes with excruciating agony by mentally escaping to past memories.

While Cerasini captures Logan’s internal world beautifully, he also occasionally falters by diverging into backstories that don’t add much to the plot. For example, in-depth backstories for characters like the Professor and Carol Hines feel superfluous. These details don’t enhance the main story or Logan’s journey, making them feel like page fillers rather than essential elements of the narrative. The focus on these secondary characters pulls the reader out of the intense, claustrophobic atmosphere of Logan’s perspective, which is where the story’s real strength lies.

Another questionable choice is a fantastical sequence near the end, where Logan realizes he might be an immortal warrior reborn over centuries, who has fought in all major battles throughout history, “the right hand of God”— possibly a fallen angel with a divine purpose. This subplot feels forced and doesn’t align with the grounded, gritty tone of the rest of the book. It reads more like fanfiction, detracting from Logan’s characterization and Weapon X’s darker, more science-driven lore. Rather than building on Logan’s established backstory, this fantasy sequence feels out of place, stretching the novel's credibility and diminishing the raw intensity of Logan's origin story.

In summary, Weapon X by Marc Cerasini is a compelling, if occasionally flawed, adaptation of Wolverine’s origin. The novel excels in adding depth to Logan’s perspective, capturing the horror and dissociation he experiences, and grounding his trauma in moments from his past. But while these aspects shine, some elements—like unnecessary backstory expansions and an ill-fitting fantasy sequence—detract from the otherwise gritty and intense narrative. For fans of Wolverine, though, Weapon X is an insightful and engaging read, one that captures the brutality and resilience of Marvel’s most feral hero.

[scatmaan]

Every netflix original show feels like they were made for 13 year olds exclusively

[lost-on-t-umblr]

I heard nobody talking about the fact that Agatha telling Billy, who's ashamed of his uncontrollable mythical power: "No, [you're not killing him.] Sometimes, boys die." in the most resigned, heartbroken voice could've been an act of forgiveness towards Rio. Like she finally understood that sometimes, bad things happen and it's nobody's fault, especially when the accused can't control their power.

...and then that was lost on everyone in order to have a big epic fight Marvel style. Was it so hard to show change, forgiveness, compassion on screen, instead of blind rage and conflict, especially given the time we're living in?

And we have another parallel between Billy and Rio when he says that she (Agatha) is good, and she replies that he seems to be the only one to think so. EXCEPT HE'S NOT. And Agatha knows it damn well, because Rio literally asked her why she lets other people believe that she's evil (implying that she doesn't!).

[sneezegoblin]

Another Trigun comic I drew last year! It’s rough and wonky but- I kind of still like it 🤷‍♀️

I always love to think about how an actual conversation about the whole “not actually dead-thing” situation might have gone in blr

[FIY: I actually don’t think Wolfwood would’ve hit him (probably. Idk) This is just a silly slapstick idea I had so don’t think too hard about it]

[fictionadventurer]

Beauty and the Beast for the WIP game?

My only real attempt at writing poetry before this year happened during a stretch when I tried to write a Beauty and the Beast retelling in verse. I got about two-thirds of the way through before it fizzled out and languished forever unfinished.

When it comes to my recent novel-in-verse obsession, the simplest option would be to take another look at this work and try to finish it. There's a lot of terrible poetry in there, but there are some that are somewhat better than I remember. I can't claim to be a judge of what's good poetry, but some of these are readable, so I'll share some of them here.

The first set of semi-readable poems covers the first meetings between Beauty and the Beast. (These are all numbered, and I'm leaving the numbers in place to better differentiate between separate poems. I think the speaker in most of these is fairly clear from context, but just in case, I'll put the speaker's name in the title, too.)

VI. beauty and beast

he is every nightmare i’ve ever forgotten he is thunder and darkness and death he is fear with fangs he is beastly

she is every dream i’ve never dared for she is roses and sunlight and life she is hope with jewels she is beauty

*

VIII. beauty

the chair creaks when he sits

my knees quake when he speaks

the master laughs when i ask

when i will die

my ears doubt when i hear

my mind reels when i realize

the master wonders when i began

to think he’d kill me

IX. beast

the rules are these you are mistress of this castle the servants will obey your every whim the rooms and all within are yours including me

you will dine with me at dusk we will not speak if you want silence you will look at me and try not to scream

i will not harm a hair of your head i will not cause a moment’s worry you will do whatever you wish except leave

X. beauty

his mercy shatters my world makes it bigger and at the same time smaller

how can i live in a monster’s cage

my life will be long and lonely with him my friend and at the same time jailer

how can i look at a monster’s face

the castle teems with wonders that all belong to him and at the same time me

what do i do with a monster’s love

*

The next set of poems I feel like sharing starts with Beauty finding a portrait in the castle, and then leads into her sharing a dance with Beast that makes her kind of freak out over the fact that she might be falling in love.

XXII. beast

today you found a painting in a long-forgotten room covered in cobwebs and shrouded in dust

there was a reason it was lost

the portrait showed a man with a face like the dawn and eyes like the sea you thought he looked kind

he was young and a fool

you may keep it if you wish or lock it back in darkness it matters not to me i used to see him daily

i doubt i’ll see his face again

*

XXIV. beauty (and beast)

if rooms have souls the ballroom is wise a radiant beauty long past her prime

she treasures the days when she lived and was loved she keeps them and counts them like pearls on a string

(she is not the only one, my dear)

long past midnight in moonlight and hush this sleepwalking girl can glimpse former days

a flash of a gown and a whisper of waltz what glorious balls must this room have beheld

(they were marvelous indeed, my friend)

it seems a shame she grows old alone with nothing but darkness and dust held within

i would dance for her return the spark of life if only we had music and i had a partner

(i will gladly dance with you, my love)

XXV. beast

my dear beauty don’t you know i learned dancing long ago

one step closer take my hand with a waltz you’ll understand

let the music guide your feet in a dance that’s slow and sweet

hand in hand and heart to heart it’s not love but it’s a start

XXVI. beauty

he is hulking beastly

i am small delicate

i should be stumbling crushed

but

we marvelously miraculously dance

and it feels like flying

XXVII. beauty (to the portrait)

man on the wall i may be mad but i must give voice to the storm in my heart and you are the only one near

the master puzzles me i know his home as well as my own but i know so little about him

(is he beast or man or nightmare or dream or captor or friend)

i saw his face and thought him a beast

(but he grows roses and reads poems and has never killed or even raised his voice)

i heard his voice and thought him a monster

(but he spared my life gave me his home and all he owned offered his heart and never once has been anything but gentle)

i watched him dance and thought him a man

(with grace like an angel or a prince and i think that maybe he was not always so lonely and that his heart aches for things lost)

what am i to think do say be feel about him now

and why do these questions always come at midnight

*

The final poem is one that I had completely forgotten about, so I was shocked to find it lurking in the latter sections of the document and showing signs of using some decent imagery. By polishing up the last couple of lines, I've got something that's not half bad as a standalone poem.

This one occurs during an extended period when Beauty is still trying to process her feelings toward Beast and figure out if this is really love or if her feelings are being warped by isolation and close proximity.

XXX. beauty

if this is love it is a dark and grasping love a child stumbling in the night crying for a candle flame and cherishing the smallest spark of light

if this is love it is a bleak and desolate love a skeleton tree in a barren desert windbeaten and scrubbed to bone and bursting into bloom at the first drop of rain

if this is love it is a smoke and mirrors love a sleight of hand or trick of light that takes my broken heart and fools me into thinking he can make it whole

[choices-binglebonkus]

Terror Fest is fun enough. It’s nice having multiple love interests again, and not just two: four love interests. I’m already interested in seeing where they go with this book.

All that said, parts of it are definitely AI-written.

[trans-leek-cookie]

listen I'm not gonna be a Curly apologist he did Fucked Up as captain but I genuinely recommend ppl watch a playthru that goes thru the game in chronological order. It kinda helps clear up the events and gaps between them, bc even tho u See the times, you still experience it out of order.

The stuff Anya says definitely sets off alarm bells but it doesn't seem like he Fully Understands what she means, and I'm going to be 100% honest I think she was trying to repress it herself. This isn't to say that she is AT ALL "at fault" for what happened after and she should've gotten help even if she wasn't ready to fully discuss the issue but I genuinely think she herself was still coming to terms with things, so she didn't necessarily process the full impact before talking to Curly, and a lot of what happens occurs after they're laid off- like this delves into personal interpretation but I genuinely think Anya only registered Jimmy as a serious danger after his outburst towards Curly. Ofc my interpretation is limited bc of the limited pov in game and not having gone through what she has, but it personally reads more akin to coercion over time than a singular Obviously Violent incident (like. Not to say that Sexual Assault isnt violent in nature, just that coercion often specifically works to obfuscate the fact it is a form of violence.) The layoff is a Massive catalyst for her bc of Jimmy, in that she now has a very clear understanding of his capacity for aggression.

To extrapolate a little from the "Dead Pixel" conversation, she starts by saying she Likes The Screen (even though it's fake). While Curly has his quotes about the pixel "not ruining the illusion" which. Y'know is Symbolic Of His Flaws. She doesn't say the pixel ruins it, just that she can't get it out of her mind.

If we take the pixel to represent her Or jimmy, either way the way she talks about it kind of downplays things, like it's a Minor Thing that's Slightly Upsetting, but she's still okay with the big picture. Idk I could be 100% wrong but that is my take

Besides that, Anya tells curly she's pregnant 2 days before the crash, and it isn't until she outright states it that he starts Putting The Pieces Together. I want to note, he says "I'd do anything" and "this doesn't have to go on our performance evals" 1. Before he knows shes pregnant 2. Under the assumption she might attempt suicide, and I doubt he even thought about her using the gun on anyone else before she brings that up. He says literally before the line where she tells him she's pregnant that "being laid off isnt a reason to hurt [herself]". Like I've seen ppl talk about the performance evaluation thing like it's about her and jimmy, but I think he's referring to (his belief) that she might attempt suicide or similar which might genuinely be a consistent thing he's seen her struggle with, given she's able to go through with it. Also just to note: assuming their society is like ours (hellish) reassuring her he won't blab Abt her mental health is like. Genuine reassurance- lots of mentally ill ppl will Not Open Up bc it could have long term consequences (like. For example. On employment) ANYWAYS I hope it doesn't come off like "Curly never failed Anya" but rather "Curly approached this specific situation without the context of why Anya is panicking and (possibly validly) assuming she's dealing with a very different issue"

Also let me say again the time frame is 2 days. We don't Really see what happens, but we know Anya tells Jimmy without Curly knowing. I genuinely believe he maybe didn't do a Great Job in those two days (the fact he says Anya should've talked to Him before telling Jimmy is uhhh. Mm. 1. Your job to create an environment where she comes to you my man 2. Weird to tell her what she should do with HER OWN PERSONAL INFORMATION) but like.

I get a lot of ppl want immediate consequences but consider that they can't really get rid of Jimmy (co pilot. Which is. Y'know it's Own Problems) but also like. Curly knows Jimmy, and we know that Jimmy tends to lash out. Curly should probably Not Confront Jimmy Unless He Knows Exactly How To Keep Him From Hurting Anya. Like I'm not an expert but this is something genuinely important- when confronting an abuser you NEED to take into account the impact it can have on their victim, and sometimes for the victims safety you need to wait until you have a Solid Plan. It sucks but it's important.

And theres discussion to be had about Curly kinda going along with Jimmy saying "well what if we all died" and like. I do believe he Didn't Realize What Jimmy Said. Like he was just processing/trying to keep the situation under control (and failing because he underestimated how willing Jimmy was to hurt everyone including himself).

Like he's definitely an enabler but I would say his problems are mostly before he understands the gravity of the situation, in that he's friends with Jimmy and assumes the best of a man with abusive tendencies, and fails to create an environment that can keep Anya and the others safe. Like, he definitely doesn't handle in game events perfectly (psych evaluation for one- he does do it instead of Anya which is actually helpful, but he still treats it like. Weirdly.)

Idk I have a lot of thoughts about this game and I don't necessarily want to defend Curly but more like. Anya's situation is very delicate (and light on details) so sometimes the way ppl talk Abt it feels like they aren't actually focused on what she wants and what it means to prioritize her safety y'know?

Edit bc I just now figured out kinda how I want to word it: curly is an enabler and making things worse bc he doesn't put a stop to Jimmy's BS, but in the specific scenario we see in game I think he's trying to use his Skillset of like, people pleasing not for Jimmy's sake but for the crews (like "if I nod my head and say I sympathize he won't lash out and hurt them") which like. There are situations which that is unfortunately the safest option (on an individual level yes, but sometimes it's also necessary to prevent abusers lashing out in response toward ppl who are more vulnerable) but it was the Wrong Choice.

It's like. I think Curly was trying and had good intentions, and understood that he needed to protect the crew, but he didn't have the toolset/experience to realize he can't Just go along with things and that he needs to be able to set hard limits, even for ppl he likes and trusts. Like he failed but the failure was "for want of a nail", where it began way before what we see (for want of an understanding of power dynamics I guess.) Again, don't think this makes curly more forgivable or whatever, I just think he's a good example of trying to make the right choices when you never realized you'd have to make these kinds of decisions and therefore are unprepared and/or unaware

Second edit: personally I don't think you can really incapacitate jimmy without there being serious risk (again he's the copilot) but curly should've given Anya the gun when she told him Abt the pregnancy

[scarlet--wiccan]

Everybody breath!!!! Daimon is hot again!!!

[mikimeiko]

My Lady Jane | Season 1 (2024), Gemma Burgess

[heroesriseandfall]

People absolutely have justifiable criticisms of Countdown to Final Crisis but I will say that Jason’s behavior post-Bruce’s death makes a lot more sense with that context.

Battle for the Cowl mostly just brings up Bruce’s death message for why Jason acted out so massively. But I do think that Jason meeting Earth-51 Bruce who gave him the Red Robin costume so they could fight side by side and then that Bruce was murdered in front of Jason’s eyes after Jason jumped in to help him, and Jason was openly devastated despite only meeting this Bruce that day (Jay killed an alternate Joker for laughing at his reaction)…

…and then Jason comes home and throws away the Red Robin suit to banish the remnants of that trip from himself, only to find out that actually, his Bruce did die too, in his own universe. And then other people dig the RR costume out of the trash to use it. I just think maybe maybe all that’s relevant to Jason going nuts after seeing Bruce’s death message.

[psygull]

First Snow (2006)

"Hey, they say it's gonna fuckin' snow down here this year, can you believe that?"

[silverislander]

day 12: ekko

there's a lot that goes into building a community: houses need building, machines need fixing and people need to eat, just to start. things are going well, really well, but every day will always bring a burst pipe or a fever making its way through the daycare, and there will have to be someone to do some diy plumbing or make a medicine run up to topside; that's just the way it is.

luckily, that person is ekko. he prides himself on it, does his best every day, throws himself into learning whatever has to be learned whether it's finding parts for a new hoverboard or babysitting someone's kid, and yeah, it's tiring, it's hard. the work seems to multiply by the day.

it's not like there's anyone else looking out for zaun, though. someone always needs him, so he's always there.

today, though, something isn't right. he wakes up, and he's kind of expecting to feel like shit considering the all-nighter he pulled to work on his latest prototype, but he really feels like shit. he's shivering in the warm air, and his nose is running, to boot.

it takes a second for him to remember the daycare fever last week, how he'd been there to help calm the kids down when they were getting their medication, and when he curses to himself, it hurts to speak.

it wouldn't have been such a big deal- ekko's toughed out worse colds before- but he had shit to do today. he'd promised tez a new pair of glasses, and he wanted to kick himself for leaving the guy to another day of an already year-long headache thanks to his cracked goggles. hell, he was supposed to go up and meet vi for lunch, and if he doesn't show up she's going to worry, and when she worries, whatever part of her brain that had been in charge when they were kids turns on and she goes all bossy older sister on him for weeks after.

there is something left that he can do today, though, and that's work on the new rebreathers for nina and her kids. he manages to drag himself out of bed and heads out for breakfast.

miri's behind the counter, and she squints at him a little as he's grabbing his oatmeal.

"you're not sick, are you? lennie was telling me everyone who was there last week's coming down with something."

"i'm good," he lies. "don't worry. tell lennie the rest of the medicine's with tash- her kids are still getting over it."

he winds up having to leave the mess hall, all the lights and the people giving him a headache on top of everything else. maybe it's for the better: now, he'll get an earlier start on the breathers.

on the way back up to his lab, he runs into miller and asks them to send a message up topside- let vi know he's gonna have to leave her hanging today. they're a good kid, a little too nervous to prove themself, but ekko remembers what that's like; they salute (he keeps trying to tell them not to, but it's clearly not sticking) and run off. ekko keeps heading up.

the bridges are rough, though. when the kids had it last week, the cough had come after the fever, but ekko feels like he's getting hit with it all at once. he finds himself taking a seat on the side for a second, looking down into the firelight tree.

even when he's at his worst, he'll always be proud of this, what they've all made together and the part he's played in it. there are people living here who had been struggling with third-rate prosthetics, and now they had versions they could fix themselves on the rare occasion they ever broke. there are families living together away from the mines, away from shimmer, away from death. there are there are children here who were born in the branches whose skin has no scars at all.

yeah, it's hard work, but he wants to do it all. it's worth it. after all, nobody else is looking out for-

"what are you doing out here?"

ekko turns, still a little lost in his head. an old woman is marching towards him- moved in last week, what was her name? rosie, rosalynd, rosa?

"just taking a break. what do you need?"

"need you to take a damn break," she snorts, then holds out her hand.

when he doesn't take it, she shakes it insistently. "come on. up you get. i have it on good authority we're having soup for lunch, too, and that'll do you some good, shivering like that."

"i'm okay, thanks-"

"you're sick."

"it's not that bad."

"oh, it isn't? then why'd you have my granddaughter on bedrest for the last week when she caught it?"

he starts trying to explain himself, but she cuts him off, clicking her tongue. "come on up, ekko. take the day, we'll survive."

it's clear she won't be taking no for an answer.

the soup is delicious. rosalie- that was her name- gives him a blanket that he feels guilty for taking but that she refuses to let him leave without, then sends him along with strict instructions to rest. on his way back, tash stops him, carrying the twins in tow, and hands him a little glass vial of medication with a sympathetic smile. he thanks her and tries to head on again, but someone else's kid is running up to wave at him, so he-

"i'll deal with her," tash grins, and with no small amount of effort, bends down to talk to the little girl, who seems perfectly happy to talk to anyone at all. as he's walking on, she calls out, "get well soon!"

outside the door to his place, nina stops him to thank him for the respirators. ekko starts to say that he hadn't finished them yet, but someone clears their throat behind him first. he turns to face them and it's lennie standing there, looking like he's still in the thick of the fever and half-covered in engine grease, who gives him a thumbs-up and a wink- he never was the most subtle of the bunch. ekko presses his eyes closed, nods and tells tash she's very welcome.

he gets about an hour-long nap in before he hears his door creaking open. groggily, he sits up-

"sit back down, little man."

"vi?" he manages. sure enough, she's setting a paper bag down on his table.

"miller told me you were sick, so i wanted to check in." mentally, ekko makes a note to talk to miller about oversharing as well as the saluting thing. "i brought you some of the fancy cough syrup. thought it might help."

"can you bring it over to miri's first? her husband-"

"if you don't drink it, i'll make you drink it." it doesn't quite sound like a threat, though, the way she says it.

ekko just sighs and motions for the spoon. vi brings it over and sits on the edge of the bed while he takes it.

"tastes like shit," he manages. "no wonder the kids hate it." vi laughs.

"you're going to rest up, right?" she asks, but it doesn't sound like a question.

ekko grimaces. "i wanted to get some stuff done today, though."

"it's going to have to wait, then. you're sick."

"but what if it can't?" he bursts out. "if people would let me get up, i could- i could do something, at least. i hate sitting here like there's nothing to do when i know there's something i could help with."

when he looks up to vi again, he can't quite read the look on her face, but he knows she's concerned.

"ekko, it's going to be okay. what they need is for you to get better." she takes his hand, squeezing it gently just like she did to comfort him when he got hurt as a kid. "you built all this, and now- now you've got to trust that it can hold. rest up, okay?"

he wants to argue, wants to get up and get started on something. he doesn't have the energy to do either.

after she leaves, he thinks back to the tree. all those people, all the innovations that they've made together. all the lives they've changed. it's been hard to build, but he can see it: all the load-bearing pieces, all the flashing lights and mechanisms that make the firelights work.

can ekko trust that it can hold under his weight?

he thinks, for a minute, of all the people who lean on him.

yeah. yeah, he can.