#which is in itself sadly impressive

[galaxysharks]

Madlyn, but it's got flavors from that one scene from Wynonna Earp.

Someone, probably Ash's mother or something: oh and even the lesbians are here

Maddox, barely conscious, face down on a desk: technically, Ash is Ash....

Ashlyn, trying to help her: sweetheart, it's ok, go back to sleep...

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

What Sylus can do with his Evol

(That we know of. Will be updated sporadically as new info comes out)

A few notes:

1. Sylus' Evol is Energy Manipulation. Which is a bit vague to interpret just what that encompasses, but if we take it to mean all form of energy then the implications of his powers become staggering and honestly pretty terrifying. Quite literally everything around us contain energy. As per Einstein's famous equation, E=mc², mass itself is a form of energy, ie simply having mass means an object has energy. Meaning that there might be no limit to what Sylus can control and manipulate, and this is supported by the original CN text of his anecdote, where his Evol is described as essentially all-encompassing and all-powerful.

2. This post is merely a list compiling all (or nearly all) that we have canonically seen Sylus do with his Evol. It is purely for enjoyment and to hype up our man. I will not go into details on the physics behind his power or anything like that – that I leave to more intelligent minds than mine. I'm just a gremlin who likes making lists and looking at details and (sometimes) connecting dots. Math and physics? Worst subjects in school ;-; would rather sit through 89 consecutive rounds of Find Tobias than one half hour of math.

3. If I missed anything on this list, don't hesitate to point it out to me!

4. I want to give huge thanks to @kookieluvs for kindly sending me the direct (fan) translation of Sylus' anecdote! It goes into more detail on Sylus' Evol than the localization (where things sadly seem to have gotten lost in translation) does, and really gives you a sense of how truly powerful (and frightening) it is. A link to the translation is included above, and I highly recommend you check it out!

Without further ado, here is the list of what Sylus canonically can do with his Evol

✧. Disintegrate fully grown men in a matter of seconds

Nothing is left behind of these men. No blood, no matter, no nothing. As though they never existed in the first place.

(He has also done the same to inanimate objects, like bullets)

✧. Create extremely powerful energy charges

The man actually punches a crater into the ground oml

✧. Create energy bursts

✧. Infuse his energy in weapons

✧. Create black holes(?!?!)

...do you see what I mean when I say that this power is lowkey frightening af?

✧. Transform his body into pure energy

Great for when he needs to dramatically leap off skyscrapers or old cathedrals. Taking the elevator or the stairs is for lesser men. Gotta make a memorable first impression, you know?

✧. Teleport (himself and others)

✧. Heal wounds in an instant

These wounds can range from minor cuts to bullet holes. Meaning that he can repair deep internal injuries and bleeding.

✧. Mend shirts

Yes. I'm deadass. Look at the images above.

✧. Evaporate blood

And presumably other liquids.

✧. Halt fatal internal diseases

We see him do this – rather brutally – to the twins in Mischief (World Underneath Story). The twins had 3 months left to live before that. They're alive and thriving over two years later.

✧. Summon people and objects to him/Levitate them

He will occasionally do this with plushies in the claw machine too, if you let him play and if he is feeling extra helpful. A (small but still important) portion of my affinity comes from Sylus summoning plushies in a color I hadn't gotten yet.

✧. Control and restrain others' movements

✧. Manipulate Objects

Another example of this is him shutting the doors in Philip's shop in the main story. Or unlocking the handcuffs in Midnight Stealth.

✧. Put out lights

He does this in chapter 3 of the anecdote

✧. Seal off entire areas

Does this as well in the same chapter as above

✧. Strangle

What he does to Sherman in the main story

✧.Change colours of flowers

And presumably of other things. I gotta be honest, this right here is to me one of the most insane things he can do because of what it implies about just how crazy powerful and encompassing his Evol truly is.

✧.Make seeds sprout and bloom without soil

He does this in chapter 1 of the Wildlight Chronicles. The flower crumbles and wilts seconds after he makes it bloom, but still, he made it happen. Which is very impressive. Like MC points out, channeling energy into and changing something as small as a seed takes a lot of control and precision. Another major thing that I want to add on to this is that this confirms that Sylus can force a living organism to speed through the different stages of life, manipulating and changing them. Or to put it simply he can age them up. And if he can do so to one type of organism... who's to say he can't do it to other? IE animals and humans. And maybe he can even do it in reverse? This is not confirmed but it is interesting to think about and makes me ponder about his claim in Beyond Cloudfall of being able to raise the dead... maybe it is tied to his Evol after all? Or maybe his Evol powers are somehow tied to his demonic powers? 🤔

✧.Purge metaflux

MC and him use their resonance to clear a metaflux contaminated lake in Chapter 2 of the Wildlight Chronicles.

That's all I have for the strictly Evol driven powers (I have more than likely missed something, in which case I apologize 😔 I am only human. A very tired one at that. But like I said, there probably isn't a limit to what Sylus can manipulate anyway so... writing down every individual thing would be... a lot dhdjfj).

However.

I am not done.

I still want to quickly discuss a few more of his powers, because this man still isn't OP enough ig. But I put them in a sort of separate category since I am pretty sure they are not tied to his Evol but rather to his aether core and his demonic powers.

Anyway, to start off

Sylus can control/invade minds

This is only really touched upon in the anecdote as far as I can remember.

Those affected by this lose all awareness and consciousness of their surroundings for as long as Sylus wants them to. We learn that some of the victims were never quite the same again after. These details make it clear that this is not strictly mind control, but something deeper and more terrifying – a complete and total invasion of it.

Sylus can see people's innermost desires thanks to his aether core

He reveals this to MC in LAR.

Sylus can transform into a dragon

99.9% sure of this. Check out this post for more of my reasonings.

Sylus (or Stayrus) can resurrect the dead

"Even if your desire is to resurrect the people of the Ivory City, it's still within my capabilities" word for word what Sylus/Stayrus says in Beyond Cloudfall (Chapter 3). We don't know whether Sylus at present still has this ability or if it is affected by the tether/shackles that restrict his powers.

Which reminds me of one final thing...

All of the above that I have listed (excepting the final one), have been performed by Sylus in a nerfed state. He is unable to use his full powers due to above mentioned tethers/shackles. It's still a mystery when, how, and by who they were placed within him.

Sure would be nice to have some extra lore right about now don't you think, Paperfold?

Anyway, Sylus OP as fuck. His only true weakness is the love of his life. How that will play out only time will tell (actually I can tell you right now. They will marry and live happily ever after with their baby girls and with Mephie and the twins. The end. Trust.).

With this, I am finally done with this post. I hope you guys enjoyed it ♡

I myself will finally go to bed

_(´ω`_)⌒)_

[ferrstappen]

could you be more obvious? l MV1

a/n: thissss is based on a request I got and ofc I added the Verstappen twins <3 this is messy I’m sorry but I’m on a writing mood

summary: you show up pregnant for the first race of 2024, just six months after Max won his 3rd WDC.

Max being crowned world champion for the third time was something that made your skin buzz with excitement, a knot form in your throat seeing everything he’s achieved and the pride and satisfaction of knowing that every single person on the team had his back, was definitely one of the best sights.

But for Luca and Mila Verstappen, their papa being champion again time wasn’t exactly a big deal… they knew it was important because there were lots of fireworks and special tshirts, but they were born watching Max a champion, they only knew him as such.

what, like it’s a big deal?

They didn’t say it, but you knew that’s what was on their mind.

That was the reason why both Max and you decided to not bring the twins to Qatar, especially with the high temperatures and Luca’s history of getting sick during Grand Prix weekends, they were more than happy to stay with auntie Vic while you got ready to celebrate your husband.

And God, did you celebrate him.

Without the twins, the gin and tonics kept coming, the sloppy make out session on the VIP area of the club as if you were teenagers again, his front pressed against your back as he tried to impress you with his best moves, only to earn a couple of drunken giggles and peck on the lips.

Things were starting to quiet down, lots of people had already left to their hotel room, but you and Max were on a world of your own, with you sitting on top of him, but the moment you started feeling his lips ghosting against your neck, his hands moving from your waist to squeeze your hip.

and you knew it was time to go.

Bahrain, 2024

Max didn’t remember being so excited for race day. Yes, he was anxious for the new season, but the highlight of his day was seeing you getting ready, a loose blouse and white jeans accentuating the noticeable belly of six months of pregnancy, which was a complete surprise to everyone.

You entered the paddock through the main entrance, with photographers everywhere and Kym Ilman greeting your family, because the scene was worth more than a couple thousand likes on Instagram: you were holding Mila’s hand who in return was holding Luca’s, while Max walked with his arm protectively around your belly.

The twins weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of having a baby brother or sister, a fact they made clear by asking every day if there was any chance to stop the baby from coming home eventually, telling you and Max that they were more than okay having the cats. Sadly, they were the only ones

“No! No! No! Is that why you went MIA on social media? Oh my God look at this bump! Congratulations you two,” Lily let go of Alex’s hand to give you a tight hug as Alex congratulated Max with a couple of pats on the back.

The scene repeated itself with most drivers on the grid, who didn’t ask how far along you were, but were able to deduce the situation. Until…

“How far along are you?” Charles asked you as he held Luca on his arms, letting him mess with his hair.

You blushed and Max’s chest puffed as if he has been waiting for the question. “I’m a couple of days away from the six months mark,”

Charles looked as if he was doing a very specific and difficult math problem as his girlfriend, Alexandra, stares at him with a faint blush on her cheeks, probably since she has always been more reserved around you because she was younger, but she was impatiently waiting for her boyfriend to catch on the situation.

“This is a 2023 season baby?” Charles asked.

“Looks like it,” Max answered with a smug smile on his face, but in reality it was an excited grin which reached his blue eyes.

“No…” Charles jaw dropped and had to put Luca on the floor.

“No what?” Max counter asked, even if he knew the answer. This time he started drawing mindless shapes on the clothes over your swollen stomach.

“Max… is this your championship child?” Charles whispered, shocked.

“What can I say? Winning on and off the track!”

And Charles almost passed out as both you and Max laughed, beaming while interlacing your fingers over your belly, knowing cameras wouldn’t catch you there.

user1: Max knocked y/n up the night of the third championship change my mind

user2: Max Verstappen pulled a k-mag and I respect that

user3: do we know the birthday of the verstappen twins? Asking for a friend

user4: y/n and max will have a full kindergarten if they have a kid every time he wins the championship💀

user5: are we really surprised after those videos leaked of max squeezing her ass while they were celebrating the 3rd wdc

user6: if the maths are mathing this baby will be born around the Monaco gp. GODS PLAN

[bloodchapell]

he loves to hear you yap - armin a.

brief summary: just thinking about how cute armin is and him loving to listen to EVERY word you say

what to expect: alt and very nerdy reader, equally nerdy armin, mutual pinning

your sword’s note: really just thinking of how attentive and good of a listener he would be and I ACHE for it. all past and future parts of this au series available in my mistresslist

A month or so had passed since the semester started. Normally after philosophy class you would go to the library with Armin. He had convinced you to play Minecraft and you had convinced him to play Dress to Impress.

“Agh!!!” You screamed and turned off your iPad.

“Shut the hell up!” Pieck, your roommate, yelled at you.

“Sorry I forgot that not all of us have to wake up at 6 am to deliver a calf…” You apologized and she sighed.

“I will say the same when you are trying to finish up some jacket or whatever it is that fashion designers do.” She joked half asleep. “Why did you scream either way? The Sleeping Beauty nightmare again?”

“That is a very serious nightmare!” You argued. “No it wasn’t that, Armin just gifted me VIP in Dress to Impress…”

“That is so cute… now get married and let me go back to sleep, that 75 pound baby calf isn’t going to deliver itself.”

<WHATTT THANKS MIN😭> you. 2:47 am

<YPU DIDNT HAVE TO YOURE SO SWEET> you. 2:47 am

<It’s okay! I just really liked your vkei theme outfit and was very conflicted when seeing that you didn’t win… They really should made an “only pros” server, these people do not know what vkei is.> armin 👼🏼. 2:48 am

That made you laugh. He had only learned about vkei the day before, when you guys hanged out and he asked what vkei entailed.

After some more rounds of playing, you decided it was time to go to sleep, you said good night to Armin and left the electronics in the table by your bed. But before you could actually fall asleep your mind stared thinking about Armin. The wandering thoughts regarding the blonde would fall like a current that cannot be stopped, the way in which his hands would softly write in his notebook and his handwriting was so small and dainty, the way in which his slender fingers would hold the black pen, the way he would always pay attention and participate in class, his comments always so educated, organized and concise, like he had some inside knowledge and some inside understanding about it all; yes he was a little timid regarding social interactions, but when it came to scholarly matters, he was an eminence and his words would flow out of his pretty plump pale pink lips like it was just any other topic. He was so smart and so attractive when rambling about the ambiguity of morals and religion and science and politics, his bangs and longish hair framing his face and his lashes deepening the gaze of his eyes. Goddamnit was he handsome.

“Is Malice Mizer not on Spotify?” With his phone in hand Armin asked in class the next day, following like a robot Eren’s recommendations on how to behave normally when having such a fat crush.

“How do you know that?” You asked whispering in class.

“I liked the songs you showed me.” He mentioned still holding his phone. Your heart almost ran out of your chest when hearing that; not only he he understood vkei fashion to know that the fellow Dress to Impress players were ass, but was also interested in it beyond what you had explained.

And he was interested, not only because he would have the opportunity to have a topic of conversation with you, but because he trusted in your judgement so much that he understood that if you liked vkei as a subculture, it was for a valid and good reason and therefore he must check it out.

“Yeah sadly they are not in Spotify… I can recommend you some other bands if you want though.” You said and he nodded immediately, saying he would be delighted. You typed Sito Magus, SHAZNA, Gulu Gulu, Kaya and MEJIBRAY on his notes app. “Some of them can be a little heavy, I don’t know if you like that.”

“I don’t mind.” He smiled sweetly; he didn’t really mind because he was used to Eren and Mikasa blasting death black evil obscure metal.

Armin was trying his absolute best to not dissolve into a mass of anxiety and embarrassment, he kept thinking about every recommendation Eren gave him and even though sometimes it seemed like nothing he could do was powerful enough to mask his feelings, he trusted logic and knew that up to a point it could work.

"You said you had a playlist with all your favorite songs ever right? Can we listen to them together while you explain to me why you like them maybe?" He asked impulsively without stopping to think, almost immediately regretting the request before seeing your eyes glimmering like eyes do in cartoons and seeing you nod. Truth be told he was also fascinated with the way you spoke about your interests, you were so passionate and analytic of the things you liked that he could be convinced to do almost anything if you described it like you do with the things you love.

So after class you invite him to your dorm and you both sit on the carpeted floor while you go over every song and he listens to your comments and tries to hear the songs as beautifully as you do.

[sugary-daydreams3]

Quiet inbetween [Sukuna x Reader]

Summary: Collections of quiet, cozy, intimate moments you share with Sukuna, who thinks you two won't last a year. Someone who used to live a wild, fast-paced, loud lifestyle couldn't possibly be fit for a long-term relationship. But he doesn't know that you're the one he needed this whole time.

Word Count: 3.7K words

Rating: Mostly fluff with a little spice (sexual content) at the end, but no full explicit content. Mostly T with a little M.

A/N: Happy holidays y'all. This might be my last fic posted in the year so I hope you guys transition into the new year safely. Goodness, do I love writing my A.U. version of Sukuna. So fun and flirty that he makes me blush sometimes and I control what he says. But I guess that's a good thing, right. Sadly my next fic is dealing with a not so fun topic, haha. (It's Gojo-centric, so you might know where I'm going with this) Anyways, stay safe out there and I'll see you again in 2025. Enough yapping from me, enjoy!

Normal, quiet moments tend to bring discomfort within Sukuna. Dating trouble as a teen limited his time to sit and enjoy the small pleasures of life. He was all about the grand, overwhelming, taboo pleasures that one wouldn’t dare chase but rather daydream about. Or worse, make simulation games about and live out their guilty pleasures vicariously through fictional characters. But with taboo pleasures come consequences which landed him in jail for some time.  

Within the year after his release, he met you which slowly inspired him to alter his fast, vicious lifestyle. You introduced him to things he never would have found himself participating in. Things he used to tease his twin brother for being a sheep for society for. A mom-and-pop coffee shop was one of them.  

“How do you drink this shit?” Sukuna sticks out his tongue. Tanned liquid trapped in your mouth almost spills. Air blows from your nose, signifying your amusement at Sukuna’s first experience with coffee.  

Swallowing down the first sip of your coffee, your eyes admire Sukuna’s childlike distaste for your go-to morning beverage. “Because I order mine with cream, sugar, and caramel. You’re pretty much drinking burnt black water.”  

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”   

You give him a “really?” look. “I said you should start out with the caramel Frappuccino but you said, and I quote.” You notch your voice down several pitches lower. “The hell I look like drinking that sissy shit.”  

“You could have recommended me any other drink but this. This was a terrible first impression.”  

“I can order you another one to make up for it.”  

Sukuna pouts. “I’ll pass. I fear I’ll be disappointed again.”  

“Sukuna, you just drink straight black coffee, you can’t write the whole thing off just because you had one variation of it. That’s like saying “I hate potatoes” because you ate unsalted, lukewarm fries.” Sukuna scrunches his face.  

“That’s not the same.”  

“Yes, it is. It’s a perfect comparison.”  

“It’s two completely different scenarios. You really thought you schooled me with that, huh.”  

“Shut up. I’m ordering you a new drink.”  

Waiting for his redemption cup, Sukuna stares at you typing away on your laptop computer. Your hair curtains over part of your face, tempting Sukuna to reach over and fix it. Yet the messy hair curtain highlights your beauty so effortlessly, he couldn’t stop adoring your natural radiance.  

The strong smell of roast occasionally makes its mark. Ranges of chatter mingle with the loud cycle of brewing and baking. Quirky, cheesy posters hang all over, providing a drowning sense of positivity and relatability. Generic chill music slithers through the atmosphere, failing to chill Sukuna’s social anxiety. Thankfully, his new drink just came to save the moment.  

Taking a drink from the flat white laced with sugar and cream, he sits back to allow his brain to register. His eyebrows raise with a small smack of his mouth, giving you some hope that coffee redeemed itself on the oh so great Sukuna’s tastebuds.   

“Well?” You ask impatiently.  

“Not bad. Could use more sugar but it’s drinkable.” Sukuna reviews. A pleased smile killed your worry. “I’m glad you gave it a second chance. I hope we can have more coffee dates like this.”  

Sukuna narrows his eyes. “This is a date?”   

Your eyes roll. “No this is a job interview.”  

“I’m not one for customer service but if I get to look at you all day long and the pay is good then sign me up.” You hate that something as corny as that made you blush.  

“Hush Sukuna, of course this is a date. This is like our twelfth time seeing each other, I like to think all of the time we spent together so far wasn't a waste of time.”  

“Ooh someone’s no-nonsense.” Sukuna smirks, large arms crossed.  

You sigh, “I’m just over the hookups and the flings. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t just one-and-done me.”  

“Eh, all of the one-night conquests and strictly sex ordeals were starting to get stale. You got a nice face with a body to match. You’re on no bullshit and are fun for the most part. You haven't bored me yet so I don’t mind continuing this.”  

“Yet?”  

“I tend to get bored with my women so I wouldn't hold hope of this lasting past a year. Just letting you know so the heartbreak will hurt a little less.”  

You smirk, amused by his lack of filter. “Well, a year will be record breaking compared to my recent relationships these last few years. So bring it.”  

Your polished nails navigate the grassy fields of dusty pink, natural hair oil inked on your fingertips. Your poor thighs are weighed down under his dumbbells for arms. Your other hand caress Sukuna’s right bicep, fixating on the jet black tattoos contrasting with his pale skin. He rubs your left knee as he rests against your stomach.  

Sukuna releases a deep sigh, letting go of the temporary stresses of life. He’ll rather die than admit it but this is what he mostly looks forward to when he goes about his day. It took him a while to get used to you being positioned behind him, often side eyeing the first few times you two were like this.   

Call it trust issues. Slam the non-medical diagnosis of PTSD resulted from a rough upbringing and life as a criminal. Or if we’re really getting psychological, throw out the fancy “internalized misanthropy” word. Re-fucking-gardless, he’s always been highly aware and on guard whenever people are in close proximity to him, ever since he was a kid.  

Now, the more he allows himself to turn his brain off in your lap the easier you hear him lightly snoring within several minutes. You giggle as his resting figure emits loud snores thirty minutes in of scalp scratching and head caressing.   

“Sweet dreams.” You reach down to peck warmth on his forehead.  

Your wishes go unnoticed as child-like ease warps itself across face tattoos and a sharp jawline. A surprisingly dynamic clash.  

Your laughter saturates the kitchen space accompanied by music from the vintage radio. Flour dressed your behemoth all over, making it the sight of the century. Sukuna frowns as he attempts to smooth the pizza dough with the rolling pin. Tears edge your eyes; the catastrophe he was causing was funnier than any standup comedy.  

“Hush. You're breaking my focus.” Sukuna was struggling to knead the dough enough to be a thin foundation. It usually ends up shaping to be a deep dish or just a regular sized pizza. This was his third effort to mold the pizza, with two “epic failures” baking in the oven.  

When your laughter demoted to light chuckles, you rub his arm for support. “You know I can help you shape the dough. It took me fifteen tries before making an objectively decent pizza.” Sukuna shakes his head.  

“That’s because you were the one making it. It’s gonna be perfect this time.” Sukuna smooths out the dough and smirks at his “perfectly” thin pizza. You roll your eyes and walk over to gather the cheese and other toppings.  

The pizza rises within the oven, gluing the toppings within the cheese. Sukuna watches it carefully from the kitchen island, like his life depended on whether this Thursday night dinner was great or not.   

A marathon of T.V. commercial ramblings was bugging background noise as you tidied up. The other two pizzas sat on the cooling rack, being forgotten tasty mistakes. Flour ages his hair many decades, snowing down his chest with every tiny movement. He turns to see an unlikely troublemaker look down at him, a small hill of flour ready to be thrown from your palm. Sukuna narrows his eyes with a challenging look.  

“You’re playing a dangerous game, darling.”  

“Game on.” You threw it, igniting a two-man war.  

The remaining time for the perfect pizza to cook filled with flour fights, spotting majority of the kitchen with white powder. The cooking timer goes off as you two lay across the table exchanging flour and zeal between prolonged smooches.

This epic fantasy was seducing your imagination during the mundane hours of the late evening. You sense Sukuna spying on you and your book from the corner of your eye. However, the clever arrangement of words trailing above your bookmark helps you ignore him.  

“How do you read these things? That shit looks bigger than The Bible.” Sukuna pokes at the spine of your novel, trailing over the gold-engrained lettering.  

“I don’t judge stories based on length. If it’s engaging enough then I wouldn’t mind reading three hundred-plus pages of something.”  

“Where do you find the time to invest in a story that long?” Sukuna wasn’t even teasing at this point; he was genuinely curious.  

“People watch 10 seasons worth of television or animes with more than 100 episodes.”  

“Watching TV and reading are different no matter how much you try to make them feel the same. I can simply turn on the T.V. and watch 100 episodes of something without exerting much energy. You have to sit up, read so many words, and decipher hundreds of pages worth of story. It’s not the same.”  

“True, I’ll give you that. I just find it funny that people draw the line at consuming a story through reading only because you have to put a little more effort in it.” You bounced back.  

Sukuna rubbed his chin. “I remember being into poetry and haikus a lot as a teenager. But I started getting involved in other shit so I lost interest along the way.”   

You snap to him, no longer being a silent witness to a passionate kissing scene. “You like poetry?”  

“I suppose. I always liked how poets managed to craft thoughts so elegantly. Perfectly describing the complicated or unsaid.”  

“You know the local bookstore down the street has a whole section of poetry books. What’s your favorite poets? I could buy you some of their latest work.” Your comforter became a temporary bookmark with your book lying face down.  

“Hmm, I don’t really have a favorite poet. I used to buy a bunch of random poetry or haiku books and kept the ones that stuck with me. There is one writer that I really like though...”  

You wait in anticipation as you witness him in thought. Simple things like racking his brain makes him a cutie. Sukuna snaps his fingers.  

“Ahh, Yosa Takahama is his name. His work is usually written in Japanese but some translators re-publish them in their mother’s tongue. His work is hard to find around here though. I don’t even know how I managed to snag one of his books in the first place.”  

Despite the challenge, you were determined to get it for him. “I’ll figure out a way to get you one. That way we could be reading buddies.”  

“You don’t have to do all of that, doll. You’ll rip your hair out trying to find those books. I’m fine watching you ignore me in favor of a book that can knock your teeth out.” You chuckle.  

During the rest of the night, you noticed the boredom on Sukuna’s face as he mindlessly consumes television. The least you can do is try to hunt down this haiku book for him. Dating him for some time, he confessed to losing touch with so many hobbies he grew up with over the last few years. You wanted to bring that inner child back to life, killed by proving to the world how tough he was.  

Getting him to read something that actually interests him can be another way to embrace the innocent pleasures in life. You can tell he misses that wild delinquency some days, but you hope he doesn’t miss it enough to end this relationship over. If you can find it, hopefully it can be a building block that rebuilds his new path after leaving the old behind. Anything to help you be closer to him.  

6 weeks later 

Sukuna emerges from the bathroom. The odors of the food he cooked from his restaurant today were replaced with standard soap and his natural scent. Like every other night, you sat with your book, seemingly ignoring Sukuna’s lingering stare.  

After dressing himself, he sinks on the mattress and attempts to lay against his pillow. His thick neck isn't met with the soft cushion but instead a hard surface in the middle area. He stares at his pillow, offended for it not providing comfort, so he lifts it up. A white hardcover book reveals.  

“What’s this?” He asked, not turning to you yet. You shift from the words to your boyfriend’s confusion. “I don’t know where that came from. Maybe the book fairy paid you a visit.” You played dumb.  

“You’re so corny.” He holds up the book.  

“A corny girl you’ve been dating for almost a year now.”  

“Quiet. I’m trying to see what this is.” Sukuna didn’t even examine the title, the pages of the book flutter until he lands on a random page. He reads aloud.  

“Vindictive winter / A white, mighty rabbit looks / betrayed by the king / ...wait.” Sukuna looks at you and you copy his shocked expression.  

“This is Yosa Takahama’s stuff. How did you even get this? This must have cost you a fortune.”  

“It was costly and took me weeks to find a readable copy but the look on your face right now makes it worth it. I wanted you to read with me instead of being a T.V. zombie. Even if that means reading mind fuckery haikus.” You chuckle.  

Sukuna grabs your waist from the side and unleashes many wet pecks around your cheek, neck, and upper chest. You giggle as you brush his hair and hug him back.  

“I appreciate it.”  

“No big deal.” You replicate his cool cat version of “You’re welcome.” that he usually throws at you. Sukuna smirks at the playful imitation.  

The rest of the evening is spent with you two lost in your own worlds of literature. Your brains mixed imagination, broadened perspectives, and emotional intelligence from honeyed words inked against the white.

“I’m too big for this tub. You barely have any room to stretch your legs.” Sukuna commented.  

He adjusted his position behind you, the bubbles shifting from his large body. Your feet rested on the tip of the tub to keep from smushing against the porcelain. You turn to him, offering a reassuring smile. He snickers at your ridiculous face mask, particularly the cucumbers concealing your eyes.  

“No, you’re not. You say that every time you get in with me. You’re fine Kuna, really.”  

Sukuna rests his arms around the top edges of the tub, leaning back to make himself comfortable in his slightly cramped soak. The warm water, Epsom salt, and meditation music playing from your phone kneads away the hidden tension that plagues his body from the everyday.  

“Before I met you, I haven't taken a bath in almost fifteen years.” He confesses.  

“That sounds so disgusting out of context.” You cringe. Sukuna chuckles.   

“You know what I mean.”  

“I can’t imagine going that long without a bath. Baths are way better than showers.” You admitted.  

“Showers are for a quick wash. Baths are more for relaxation.”  

“I shower for fifteen minutes minimum, thirty-five minutes max. I spend about three minutes just letting the hot water hit my body and think about whatever. There’s no way I can just shower for ten minutes or less.”  

“Is that why you’re so smoking.” Sukuna flirted. You shake your head, “That was so corny, Kuna. C’mon you can flirt better than that.”  

“You’re right. I just wanted to see your reaction.”   

You two enjoy each other’s company. The heat protects you from winter and the sheet of bubbles float around and pop within. Sukuna arms lay over yours, rubbing over your wrist. Sukuna focuses on your face and develops a sense of mischief.  

“Babydoll.”  

“Yeah?”  

“Turn around for me.”  

You quirk a brow but obeyed by slowly turning his way. In a swift motion, Sukuna moves forward and bites off the cucumber sitting on your right eye. Your right vision sees Sukuna munching on your edible eye mask.  

“Really, Kuna? You couldn’t resist temptation to eat that?” You scolded. You take off the other cucumber, abandoning your hopes to keep your eyelids nice and fresh. Sukuna steals the other cucumber from your hand and flings it in his mouth.  

“You’re impossible to relax with sometimes.”  

“Thanks for the snack.” Sukuna mumbles through chewing.  

You sigh then lay against his chest and close your eyes. If he was going to interrupt your beauty routine the least he can do is be your pillow.

Sukuna big toe hugs your own after caressing your right foot. Both of your feet poke out from the thick blanket, suffering from the gentle lashes of the nippy air condition. You rest your head on his squishy but firm chest, goosebumps forming from his rough hands brushing your skin.   

“We should light the fireplace.” You suggested.  

Sukuna let out a lazy sigh, “What you really mean is that I should light it.”  

“Yeah, you should.”  

“I could but I fear I’ll turn into a popsicle.”  

You giggle. “Hey, at least you’ll taste good.”  

Sukuna smirks, “I already taste good. You should know out of anyone.”  

You playfully shrug. “Eh, you’re alright. No fine dining though.”  

“Oh really?”  

“Yep.”  

“How about you taste this then.”  

Sukuna leans down and traps your lips in the moment. His lips were smaller than yours yet they managed to govern the heat stirring between each lingering kiss. The frigid air in the room is forgotten in your minds as you and Sukuna make out under the grey blanket. After a couple minutes of sensual touching and lip pulls, Sukuna goes for your neck.  

“Well?” Sukuna lands soft bites inches under your chin.  

“I was just kidding earlier but that was...”  

“Better than fine dining?”  

“I don’t know what’s better than fine dining but, yeah, better than that.”  

Sukuna chuckles, “Glad to remind you.”  

Sukuna “accidentally” lands a hard bite just above your collarbone, caging a pleasured groan within closed lips. Sukuna kisses the forming red patch, “Sorry baby, got a little greedy there.”  

“I hope I give you a brain freeze.” You joked, trying to take your mind off the aching spot.  

Sukuna hooks his finger around the side of your silk underwear, his other hand slowly appreciates your ass. “I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

Your body slowly rocks on top of him, the yellow and orange from the fireplace illuminate your dips and curves. The aftershocks of your second orgasm calm down, giving you the signal to stop riding him. One hand caresses the trimmed hairs sprinkled across Sukuna’s chest. The other traces the small gold chain decorating his pecs. Sukuna squeezes the body fat from your hips then pats your left butt cheek.  

You hop off and lay down on the blanket you set down for your second round. Sukuna pulls off the condom and gets up to throw it away. The contained fire warms your naked body from a distance, defending you from the army of white cold. You hum while the fire entertains you until Sukuna comes back. He’s wearing the boxers he had on earlier with the embroidered knife patterns. Where he got those kinds of boxers you may never know.  

Sukuna drops the pillow he stole from the couch then sits down on the blanket. He pulls you towards him and you two lie down together. You perform his signature trait, pushing his hair back, enabling his wild look. Sukuna traces your spine, quietly admiring both how strong and weak one’s bone structure could be.  

“I never thought I would enjoy silly things like sitting in front of a fireplace during winter.”  

“It’s silly?”  

“Not really. I guess I just associated this with Christmas activities. Christmas always seemed too cheesy to me so I associated things like this as silly holiday stuff.”  

“Yeah, I get it. Sex in front of the fireplace, just silly wholesome Christmas activities.” You joked. You instantly felt Sukuna’s laughter rumble throughout his chest. After calming down he gives your arm a light pinch.  

“You know what I mean.”  

“I’m just happy you allowed me to bring some mellow in your life. I remember when I met you, you were always in some crazy illegal trouble. It seemed like I could barely keep up with you and your fast-paced lifestyle.”  

“Yeah, it was fun for a while, I’ll admit. Even getting caught had some sort of thrill. Now that I’m pushing thirty, I just feel over it.”  

You chuckle, “Not a spring chicken as you used to be.”  

“Yeah. I suppose every hot shot has their limit.”  

“Well, I’m proud that you’re beginning to settle down. I know your brother is too.” You rub his cheek.  

“I was surprised when he offered to help me set up my fight clubhouse. He’s usually against violence and shit.”  

“Maybe he thought that it would be a nice distraction from your life with crime. Even if it meant supporting you doing something he also doesn’t like. Like a lesser of two evils kind of thing.”  

“I never knew someone so predictable yet unpredictable at the same time more than him.” Sukuna said. You giggle then sprawl your hands across Sukuna’s abdomen, trailing over the ridges in a playful matter. Sukuna tender gaze studies your features as he softly pulls little cushions of your skin.  

“Thank you for sticking with me.”  

You look up to see the wild orange shadowing his strong features. His usual too cool-for-school attitude was replaced with a loving nature only reserved for you. A nature molded by small, seemingly insignificant moments sparked by a mutual agreement of casual dating. You plant a few kisses against his jawline then lay back on his chest.  

Before your eyes close for the night, you slur a few words that gets a smile out of Sukuna. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”  

[nonsensology]

I really wanted to draw something to celebrate the 40th anniversary of my favorite Oz movie; Disney's Return to Oz (premiered June 21, 1985). I included a couple characters from the broader Disney Ozziverse: Master Wix, from the cancelled book series Abadazad; and Finley and China Girl from Oz the Great and Powerful.

Abadazad is not strictly an Oz adaptation, but the story is so heavily inspired by the original Oz books that I feel it only fair to mention it when talking about Oz. It's so whimsical and charming! Sadly, it was cancelled after only three books, with the third book having only been released in the UK (I am so lucky to own a copy of all three), which is especially frustrating considering it originated as a comic published by CrossGen, but after three issues was rebooted as a novel-comic hybrid after Disney bought CrossGen's assets following the latter's bankruptcy.

I do not particularly care for the writing in Oz the Great and Powerful, but I do like Finley and China Girl. I also appreciate that this movie correctly designates Glinda as the witch of the South, not the North, and attempted to portray her as the wise character she is in the books, as opposed to her bubbly portrayal in MGM's classic musical.

I first watched Return to Oz shortly after my high school performed The Wizard of Oz during my junior year. This is a special memory for me as I helped paint and assemble props for the show, as well as provided the art for the cast and crew's t-shirts! My school's version of the show was unique in that it also incorporated songs from The Wiz. I had so much fun participating in the show, that I was inspired to check out more Oz material. Initially, I wasn't impressed by Return to Oz. But not long after, I began checking out the original Oz books from the public library, and the more I read and grew to love the world that L. Frank Baum created, the more Return to Oz grew on me. Now that I'm older, I can especially appreciate it as an example of 80s dark fantasy movies, as well as the incredible craftsmanship in its special effects. I wish this movie had been better received back in the day.

Disney somehow never manages to make it big with Oz related projects. Walt himself never got to make The Rainbow Road to Oz, a planned movie that would have starred the Mouseketeers. Return to Oz, Oz the Great and Powerful, and The Muppets' Wizard of Oz were not critical successes. And of course, there's Abadazad's cancellation. ABC's Once Upon a Time was probably the most successful integrating Oz in its great big fairytale multiverse, but I feel the writing quality of that show deteriorated pretty fast so I don't count it. It's actually kinda sad how Disney never sticks the landing with Oz. For a long time, Disneyland Paris' version of the Storybook Land Canal Boats featured a miniature recreation of the Emerald City, perhaps the only remaining reference to Oz anywhere in the parks. Sadly, it was recently replaced with a diorama of Paradise Falls from Pixar's Up. (Look, I enjoy Up, but it is not a fairytale and therefor does not belong in that ride, OMG Disney, you need to stop recklessly spamming unrelated IP everywhere.)

I do sincerely hope that someday, once Disney manages to finally pull itself out of its current dark age, that they can create an Oz project with a lasting impact and legacy on the public conscience. (At the very least, Disney could either uncancel Abadazad, or give the rights back to the creators.)

[angstyhikka]

Critical review on Carved and Modeled - Wittebane collaborative album - The Owl House by @a-magpie-in-gravesfield

On the day of the premiere, the four horsemen of the apocalypse (that’s me, @lasymit, @tuumcleander and @levshany) sat down with jokes and banter to watch the hour-long musical album. The project is impressively high-quality for fandom work, and the sheer amount of effort put into it commands respect. There were a few songs we especially liked, which deserve special mention.

A Dark Beginning, depicting the execution of Caleb and Philip’s parents, was dark and atmospheric—the music perfectly matched the tone of the narrative. 

Witch Hunters, a song about hypocrisy, nailed the emotional weight, particularly the lines about how their parents “lost the game” they’re now forced to play. 

I Can Be Your Friend! was also great—it perfectly captured the character’s energy and was dynamic as hell. The concept of Philip meeting the Collector in the in-between realm when he first crosses worlds is genuinely interesting. Too bad their relationship isn’t explored further. 

Curse is absolutely magnificent—from the voice acting to the body horror atmosphere, it’s our favorite track.

Disclaimer

First off, we deeply respect Magpie for their dedication, enthusiasm, and the high-quality merch—clearly the result of painstaking work, with carefully chosen materials and lovingly crafted designs. We also appreciate their attentiveness to every customer and the monumental effort poured into this project!

What follows is serious criticism and our raw reactions. If you’re part of the project, loved the album, and are sensitive to critique, please stop reading here. Otherwise, we’re open to discussion—just keep it civil. We’ve done our best to make this critique constructive and not hurtful (we kept some cursing and CAPS for humor, because otherwise it would be a boring long read). Our goal isn’t to offend but to voice our perspective.

We disagree with Magpie’s interpretation and feel it’s important to say so, especially since this project is massive, gaining traction fast, and some fans are calling it "100% canon" and "better than canon". The fandom’s response has been overwhelmingly positive, likely because this is one of the biggest fan projects of its kind, made with contributions from so many people. Philip’s fans are proud that our fandom can produce something this ambitious.

But in our view, much of this fan-made story contradicts canon or works worse than the original series. Below, we’ll break it down.

Analysis

A Dark Beginning – Tragedy for tragedy’s sake. The music nails the vibe, but the uncle character could’ve been anyone—this song exists solely to hang Caleb and Philip’s parents. This plot point only matters until the second song and then vanishes.

Witch Hunters – The song itself works well as a follow-up to the previous track’s buildup. But despite expectations, the brothers’ conflict with society’s beliefs goes nowhere. Caleb briefly mentions being tired of pretending to be a witch hunter, then it’s dropped. This tension could’ve resurfaced when Philip decides to kill all the witches, but his motivation there is shaky too.

Daydreaming – Caleb dreams of a better life. But it’s unclear what’s weighing him down—everything around him looks rosy, romantic, and peaceful. The lyrics spell out his struggles, but visually, he’s just chilling and daydreaming. We don’t feel his pain.

Distance – Caleb tells Evelyn he wants to leave Philip behind… but also loves him. Why not just take the kid with them? Philip, a literal child with no malice or grudge against Evelyn, watches them sadly from afar. What’s the conflict here?

Struggling Light, Only For A Few Days – No real motivation or tension in Caleb’s decision to abandon Philip. Author tries to parallel Caleb and Luz, but it doesn’t work—Philip is a minor, and Caleb is almost an adult responsible for him. Again, why couldn’t they take Philip with them? Even if Caleb’s tired of parenting, we don’t see any emotional breakdown—just whining. Evelyn supports Caleb but doesn’t push back. She’s just… there.

They could’ve had her egg him on, making Philip resent them both, leading Caleb to make a rash, impulsive choice to leave without Philip. Or shown Caleb blaming Philip for all his problems. But none of that happens, so his motivation falls flat.

The Other Side – Caleb feels zero guilt, which is infuriating. He writes letters he never sends and even smiles while doing it! There’s no explanation for why he can’t return. Maybe the portal couldn’t reopen? Not a word about that. It feels less like he’s chasing a dream and more like he’s just oblivious, acting like a selfish ass with no self-awareness.

Were They Right? – Philip’s suffering again, somehow blaming himself. He’s not allowed to show negative traits. Where’s the betrayal brewing if he never saw the note? Why doesn’t he blame Evelyn? He and Caleb don’t even have one conversation in the whole album—not even before their fight.

Now Philip starts believing the witch hunters were right, that Caleb was enchanted… but nothing leads him to this. He just changes his mind over time. No trigger.

If Philip already thinks Caleb was enchanted, why doesn’t he act on it when they meet? Why not grab him and run? Instead, he kills him. Seems like he realizes Caleb wasn’t enchanted after all but keeps lying to himself. Except the lie’s so weak it doesn’t even convince him, so his real resentment spills out, and he kills Caleb. So is the delusion there or not? If it is, why doesn’t it work? If not, why include it?

If he believes in the enchantment, why not attack Evelyn, the supposed enchanter? If he’s just comforting himself, he could’ve picked a better lie. Why even chase Caleb if he doesn’t believe he was taken by force? Why is he so easily swayed that he kills Caleb on sight?

Cover Up – Over a piece of paper, they’re ready to burn him without trial. The story desperately lacks the systemic oppression that would’ve shaped Philip into who he is. The villagers’ vengeance feels half-baked, but at least the momentum’s engaging.

Finally, we get Philip’s motivation to find his brother.

I Can Be Your Friend! – A high-energy, dynamic song that perfectly fits the Collector’s vibe. Nothing concrete happens—it’s just Philip and the Collector vibing in the in-between. Fun stuff. Too bad the Collector disappears afterward.

Where Is Home? – The first murder feels unearned, and Philip has zero reaction. The description calls it an accident—let it be so—but killing someone point-blank over apples? Really?

WHERE DID THAT DOOR COME FROM SO FAST? WHAT DID HE MAKE IT FROM? DID HE JUST FIND A PORTAL IN THE BUSHES?

Has He Forgotten? – Cavelyn ex machina, resentment with no setup. Philip’s moping again. Earlier, he thought "maybe he was enchanted," now he’s suddenly certain it’s magic and leans into the delusion. The lyrics are too on-the-nose, the tone clashes with the visuals, and the pacing’s off. His motivation needed time to develop—this is a pivotal moment, but it’s rushed.

It feels like Philip just pulls out a knife out of nowhere. The song seems to frame it as a crime of passion, but he’s eerily calm when making the decision. Psychopathy fits Philip, but you can’t have it both ways—here he’s cold and calculating, in the next song he’s rage-fueled and impulsive. Which is it?

Murder – Caleb’s "I’ll always be there for you" rings hollow when he never even tried to return. This ties back to Caleb’s weak motivation—he’s completely oblivious to the consequences of his actions. Screw the note! He should’ve known it wouldn’t explain or justify anything, even if Philip read it.

We can’t tell who Philip’s attacking—Evelyn’s not in frame. If it’s Caleb, WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING WITH HIS BACK TURNED? Why stab him? Is he angry? Trying to "break the spell"? Maybe the "spell" is a metaphor for his (unshown) resentment.

How did he spiral like this? No buildup except one mention in Were They Right?. Philip seemed to want Caleb back, but then he kills him because… he’s mad? Hurt? A fucking idiot? Does he genuinely believe Caleb was enchanted? The framing’s so vague we’re not even sure if we missed hints or if they just weren’t there.

WHERE THE FUCK WAS EVELYN THIS WHOLE TIME?

The lyrics say "SOUL IS TORN APART," but Philip’s face is stone-cold, like everything’s going according to plan. Delusions need REASONS, CONFLICT—they don’t just pop up. The emotional core is missing. Instead, we get "depression in my mind, misery in my behind", with none of the doubt that should be there after KILLING THE PERSON HE LOVED MOST.

The Door – Why doesn’t Evelyn, knowing where Philip is, try to kill him? Why is HE so calm, thinking logically AFTER MURDERING CALEB—the most traumatic event of his life? WHERE’S THE BREAKDOWN? THE SHOCK? THE DESPAIR? This should’ve shattered him—horror, tilt, depression. He should’ve cycled through grief and gotten stuck on denial, fueling his future canon actions.

This needed its own song because the dissonance between event and reaction is jarring. You could argue psychopathy, but even psychopaths aren’t usually this detached. Even for them, core motivation has to come from somewhere emotional.

There’s so much fanart of Philip losing his mind digging up Caleb’s body, but here he’s just… lonely. Sticking to canon here undermines Philip’s motivation, especially for his future arc. It’s flat. Pathetic. Frustrating.

The audience can’t connect Philip’s emotions to his choices because the initial conflict was undercooked. Now the story doesn’t work. Caleb’s role in Philip’s life feels interchangeable—it could’ve been anyone. This breaks the Grimwalkers’ concept—if he just needed someone, why not make it literally anyone else?

Why does he want to kill all witches? Over Caleb? But he seems to give zero shits about Caleb to dedicate 300 years to this crusade.

Canon Hollow Mind pictures don’t fit the narrative and feel illogical. If you’re using them as a foundation, the story should’ve been different.

What Now? – Evelyn leaves him in her world… WHY??? So he can genocide her people? "Let’s lock the maniac who murdered my child’s father in a room with my entire species"—BRILLIANT plan. Her reasoning—"I won’t let you hurt anyone else"—HOW does hiding the portal stop him, dumbass? Why not execute him publicly?

Philip wants to kill all witches so his people will "forgive" him. How he reached this conclusion is unclear. Is it guilt over Caleb’s death (which we never saw)? Who knows.

Later, he claims he’s "protecting" humanity from witches luring them with magic, like Caleb. COOL. Then why the earlier motivation? Why the contradictions? Is this his delusion or bad storytelling? Since it’s not clear at first glance, it feels like the latter.

He does express doubt—saying he’ll "believe the lie" to avoid pain—which is a great angle, but it’s buried under noise (like Evelyn’s portal door).

And, by the way, why didn’t he kill Evelyn? Their conflict has no resolution. He kills Caleb but ignores her, even though he blames her and all witches for this mess.

He wonders if Caleb was enchanted… but he already killed him over it. This doubt should’ve come before the murder.

So he makes Grimwalkers to "prove" Caleb wouldn’t betray him without magic? And because he’s terrified of forgetting Caleb’s face? But earlier, his motives were different. It’s a mess. Does he want revenge? To "save" Caleb? To protect humanity? Too much for one song—pick a lane.

Grimwalkers – He’s not deluding himself anymore. He knows killing Caleb was wrong. So why keep making Grimwalkers? The song implies he’s addicted, afraid to forget Caleb. But without the delusion, where’s the guilt? Why does he regret killing Caleb but not the Grimwalkers?

Again, Philip’s murders are treated with bizarre indifference—no reason, no emotion, in lyrics or visuals.

This song’s motivation isn’t bad, but it clashes with his inconsistent behavior earlier. The overall message still falters.

CURSE – ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS. NO JOKE. WE’VE BEEN REPLAYING THIS ON LOOP. Best song in the album. The visuals sync perfectly with the music—his madness is on full display. THIS is Philip. Deranged, obsessed, desperate, agonizing under crushing guilt.

It echoes Transformation from Jekyll & Hyde, taking the best elements we’ve always associated with Philip. The whispering sends chills—his torment crawls under your skin. The vocal delivery masterfully conveys his fractured mind, pulling the audience into the horror. Priceless.

Why does it work? Because it’s a self-contained vibe—no narrative, just atmosphere. And the atmosphere is perfect.

The Titan's Will – Just canon events retold Hollow Mind, with no added depth. This song adds nothing. Cut it, and nothing changes.

Mask Of Gold – The lyrics mention "all the lives that were lost," but no kill besides Caleb’s was justified. Even Caleb’s death felt rushed. Philip rarely seems troubled by any of it—we see hints in CURSE (guilt) and Grimwalkers (doubt).

Which "lives" is he mourning? If it’s Caleb and his own, that’d make sense. But he shows no remorse for anyone else. The tragedy falls flat.

The tone doesn’t match what Philip should feel. The lyrics don’t fit the context.

It’d be more effective to show his melancholy creeping through his imperial routine—how, despite his busyness, intrusive thoughts break through his denial.

What we see—him indulging in sadness—would’ve destroyed him over 400 years. If this happened often, he’d be dead. He survives on hatred and denial, especially before the Day of Unity. He’s too busy to sit around staring at a world he despises.

Conclusion

We need to say why this post exists: It hurts to see Philip treated like this. This character means a lot to us—we’ve spent ages analyzing his motives and psyche. Seeing a project that glosses over both claim canonicity is disheartening.

This was meant to "fix" canon (where everything’s bad), but it fails just as hard by clinging to canon while creating new plotholes.

It ignores historical context that should’ve shaped Philip’s trauma and worldview, flattening his character.

There’s not one scene fully dedicated to his emotional pain—the core of his character. No standout moment focusing on his psychological damage—unlike CURSE, which highlights his physical agony and guilt.

We don’t want this project to become the "definitive" fandom interpretation. Canon left gaps in Philip’s backstory and motives, letting fans theorize and adding depth. But this album’s story leaves no room for interpretation. It offers half-baked "solutions" that raise more questions than they answer.

The attempts to patch canon’s holes clash with character motivations, making them shallow and their actions nonsensical. They’re hard to believe.

To understand their motives, we had to rewatch the album ON MUTE because the songs’ moods often clash with the events, distracting from the story. On first watch, we missed key details—there was no emphasis. We thought there was no improvement over canon. The album wants to tell a story, but its structure gets in the way.

We rewatched it twice and wrote this review to dig deeper. We did find some compelling ideas about Philip’s motivation, but it was as exhausting as dissecting the original show.

Magpie, if you’re reading this, we truly hope this critique doesn’t hurt you. Its goal is to offer constructive feedback on character writing. Whether you take it or leave it is entirely up to you.

Thanks for reading.

[abbyfmc]

Yandere story idea #65

A yandere fantasy or mythical creature who acts like a golem or your personal bodyguard.

Because...well, in a dystopian fantasy world where humans, animales or creatures of all kinds were gente or good and hostile or evil, a yandere golem is perfect for you.

My concept of a golem is based on the Minecraft iron golem, I must admit: however, my universe is not necessarily set in minecraft. This golem or yandere guardian would obviously be taller and stronger than you; its body can be made of stone, wood, metal or any super resistant material (and even a combination of all of these, with some magic if you wish).

Here are some qualities of my character:

It cannot speak because it has no vocal cords or muscles to do so, but it could do so through body gestures, some sign language, or through looks and some other source of sound. At first he would be like a small child discovering everything, committing some clumsiness to impress you, but when it comes to defending you he would not hesitate to kill whoever is in front of him.

He would not touch you without permission because he could not bear to see you hurt. He knows how strong you are and would be afraid to hurt you or tear you apart unintentionally.

He lowers his head in repentance when you scold him.

It helps you with heavy work, carrying things, and even cleaning.

He won't let ANYONE near you. He thinks that everyone wants to hurt you, and that is enough to see everyone else as his enemy.

He ADORES being repaired by you.

He would follow you everywhere you go, even if you don't want to.

He may not be able to talk, but he knows how to listen to everything you say. He has excellent hearing.

And if you want to, an excellent memory.

He doesn't need to sleep, so he would keep watching you all night.

If he were to do you harm, it would be by accident, but not by malice, or he would not do it on purpose.

Walking past him, people would be afraid to even look at you.

Now, there will be a point at which you will sadly die and thus leave it alone forever, so eventually the golem will become neglected in appearance, looking increasingly neglected and damaged. In a way to console itself for not having you, it will kidnap girls who are physically similar to you (or whoever its old owner was) and when it crosses paths with you, it kidnaps you into some sort of forest so that you can't leave it alone again.

So, imagine this:

You needed help to protect yourself from your enemies or dangerous people, so you create the Golem/ bodyguard with whatever magic or other kind of things you want.

You gave him a name, and you since then you have taught him everything he knows today.

You had to be very patient with him, as he was like a small child/toddler.

He becomes your magical bodyguard. He defends you from danger, helps you in whatever you need, listens to you and takes care of you. He makes sure you are well, that you eat and don't overwork yourself.

Since it has no stomach, it has no need to eat. It regenerates itself with the damage repairs you make to its body, which is a detail of yours that it loves.

However, he cared a lot about you. He hunted super-dangerous animals, helped you bring down fruit from very tall trees and tried to take care of you as best he knew how, even though he didn't know medicine.

It spies on you while you sleep.

He would be able to beat to death anyone he sees approaching you.

What terrifies and hurts him the most is that you are afraid of him, that you tell him that you hate him or that he is a monster, since you are the most important thing in his life.

He would never want to hurt you, so why do you think he is so afraid to even hug you? He once stepped on your toes unintentionally and broke them; ever since then he has been insanely terrified of hurting you directly.

Like the iron golem in Minecraft, he's used to giving you flowers of all kinds from time to time.

He would NEVER part with you.

However, if you disappear... he will start looking for you like crazy everywhere.

Panic and anxiety in level 100000...%.

He would become desperate and paranoid in just 2 seconds.

If he could speak, he would cry/scream out your name desperately. In a dystopian fantasy world there are all kinds of dangers and he knows it.

Your yandere golem/bodyguard would look for you EVERYWHERE.

If you return to his side, your yandere golem/bodyguard will be extremely happy.

If you will die or leave his side for good, he will become a wild beast and will be able to cause a massacre. This would be further reinforced if you were killed, since for your yandere golem/bodyguard everyone is evil but you.

Because of your death, I would murder anyone who comes near your old domain. He would kidnap girls/boys who look like you and force them to let themselves be taken care of under his overprotection as he does not want to lose you again.

Yes, i like the concept of a monster who is cute, silly or innocent mixed with a very strong, paranoid and over protective creature, specially if they are yanderes.

[antrylis]

✨Kamino’s citadel challenge !✨

I am…very excited about this one. I’ve had this vision for a long time, and I’m so happy it’s ended up looking like that.

Now, there are a lot of things I’ll go into details along close ups under the cut; the only thing I’ll mention above is that I’m very grateful for TCW’s episode guides’ artworks, without which this would have been quite a hassle.

Okay ! Before diving into all the details and things, here is a view from above, to really display how big it is. Dimension-wise, the plank I built it on is around 110*70cm.

Now of course, the first detail which is noticeable is the floor, because, well, it’s everywhere.

This was probably the most challenging part of the build, because making a grid out of Lego is tough. Most of it is rows and rows of dark square, light lines, separated by 1*n tiles. It was the easiest way to get this pattern with as if it were just tiles; because this is one of the objectives I had here : most of this MOC is smooth, except for a few zones (usually voluntarily).

The fact I used this technic means that the floor in most place isn’t very stable, but it actually holds up pretty well because of some hidden connection points with the foundations underneath, which are mostly hidden under the cover blocks.

Here for instance, I’m using modified 1*2 bricks with a Technic hole : it hold the cover block, and it also attaches the floor to the foundation.

Of course, another problem I ran into were slopes. Much harder to get a smooth effect with the technic I’ve used, so it’s a bit wonky and unstable. Also, most them are not aligned properly, which is visible in the picture above (and some area have some really big misalignments because of a few problems I probably won’t bore anyone reading this with).

Now, since they’re also here, I can deal with the cover blocks. These were, among the details, the hardest to figure out, to get a good size while keeping some texture. Eventually I came up with this design, which, ironically enough, uses the same technic the floor uses, in a different orientation.

Another detail : the miradors :

This is one of the first elements I had in place, because I needed them to get a good sense of scale (and was made better by an existing concept art of a tower alone). Most of it does not have anything noteworthy, except for one illegal technic I used (can you spot it ?)

The pillar holding the roof of the mirador is using a technic I had in my toolbox for a long time, but had never had the occasion to use : if you take two 'brick' bricks and attach them perpendicularly on a snot brick, the small space separating the lines of 'bricks' align to let a 1*n tile in. It’s somewhat reliable (for an illegal technic) and an easy way to get octogonal shapes.

Now, before looking at the Citadel itself, let’s turn around for a minute.

This point of view obviously isn’t the intended one, but it’s still worth noting, if only for some composition.

Notice that the wall here is quite small (smaller than the miradors, even), and light gray; it’s in contrast with the towering dark gray wall on the other side, behind the citadel, which technically should give at least some impressions even to the people who never saw TCW.

Anyway, it’s also on this view that we can see most of my slope struggles, including the central one, which is the biggest I had to do.

And I can’t not mention the most important element :

What would be the challenge without a squad of clones to take it on ? These clones (4 privates and a sergent) are ready to fight ! Well. Kinda. I wish I could have actual cadets, but they are not part of the Lego universe (and the floor was enough of a fee, I can’t afford to get customs figures too). I wish I had the Dominos though. I have TBB Echo, and I plan to get my hands on Fives at some point, but they wouldn’t fit here, sadly, so instead I used some movie accurate clones (because all the others are used for a project I still haven’t posted..maybe later…)

Notably, I at some point tried to get the elevator to work - needless to say it was a disaster (it’s too close to the plate underneath to make something working).

Now, without further ado. The citadel.

I’m very proud of it. I got the proportions just right (I actually made some measurements to make sure of it), and there is just enough texture to not make it bland while leaving it as artificial. This alone took roughly 8-10h (which were all spent during an accidental all nighter, whoops), but it was worth it. It’s completely empty inside, and, in fact, the wall behind it isn’t full as well, anything behind the citadel is opened. The spikes are simple 1*3 angle plates illegally connected, and the walls’ small details were made with a bunch of modified 1*2 plates, there isn’t anything really special in it.

The only really complicated zone was the middle tower, because I had to put all the cannons while keeping it clean and smooth, and including the vertical lime lines. It was a fun challenge. And I included the 'flag' At the top, too, just a red transparent cone on a stick (there’s no need for more), which peeks above the gray wall (for composition and because of a lack of pieces).

Anyway, such a long project deserves one behind the scene photo :

Yes, my desk is messy (and include my mandatory tea cup).

On the left, you can see my remaining floor tiles, which have not been used yet; and just under the citadel, you might notice the foundations visible; it’s a checker of 2*2 tiles which gives my floor a good base to be fixed on. There are also some slopes which haven’t been placed yet (in front of the background miradors), and at this steps, there were no cover blocks or walls yet.

As far as my tools go, you might notice brick separators scattered all around my work environment (I never have enough of those), as well as a tablet in the bottom right hand corner (which i use to check and measure concept arts), and in the middle, the red triangle is an official (albeit old) Lego measurement tool which counts in stud, Lego bar holes and axe length.

Also visible, finally, is the bottom of the foundations, which are stacks of 1*2 bricks (each of the three floor layer is separated by a height of 3 bricks), which means that looking directly under it can lead to watching the dark basement of my build (which isn’t aesthetic…).

Anyway, if you read until here, thanks, I guess ? I still have a few TCW related stuff (a small one next week, some other in the foreseeable feature), so feel free to stick around and maybe leave a note, if you feel like it ? That’s it, bye !

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Guarding your name from the fae in folklore

The idea of fae stealing names is quite recent (I’m a big fan of new, modern folklore, x, y), but the idea that you have to guard your name so no one could (supernaturally) us it against you, is definitely a widespread folk belief. However, I’ve never encountered an actual folktale that says the fae or fairies in particular could have power over you if they knew your name. I’ve been looking for one for a long time (and if you know one please let me know!) but so far I’ve only come up with one example. So let's take a look:

The power of names

Like I said, the power of names is an old belief that shows up all over the world. Sometimes it’s linked with naming ceremonies like baptism. Sometimes hiding the name from others (witches, djinns, etc.) is what will protect you, sometimes the name itself will protect you (like being named after a saint or in reverence of a deity or spirit). Edward Clodd published a huge essay in 1898 investigating how widespread this name guarding practice is and how it links to folklore. Which, while obvioulsy dated, certainly gives an impression of how deep this belief goes (Tom Tit Tot; an essay on savage philosophy in folk-tale, Clodd, E., 1898).

Not all folk beliefs show up in folktales though and protagonists who refuse to tell their name are not a staple of European folklore, whether it concerns fae or other entities. In “The Soul Cages”, collected by T. Crofton Croker it’s even quite the opposite, as the protagonist and a firendly merrow deliberately call each other by their full names (Jack Dogherty and Coomara). And for ages I wasn't able to find a story that actually incorporated the belief of guarding your name against fae, until I read that huge essay.

Hiding your name from the fairies

In his book, Clodd mentions a single folktale in which it is mentioned that the fae are trying to learn someone’s real name. Sadly he does not tell it in full, but since it is the only real example of this concept I’ve able to find so far, I will give the full quote:

While these sheets are passing through the press, my friend Mr. W. B. Yeats hands me a letter from an Irish correspondent, who tells of a fairyhaunted old woman living in King's County. Her tormentors, whom she calls the "Fairy Band of Shinrone," come from Tipperary. They pelt her with invisible missiles, hurl abuse at her, and rail against her family, both the dead and the living, until she is driven well-nigh mad. And all this spite is manifested because they cannot find out her name, for if they could learn that, she would be in their power. Sometimes sarcasm or chaff is employed, and a nickname is given her to entrap her into telling her real name, — all which she freely talks about, often with fits of laughter. But the fairies trouble her most at night, coming in through the wall over her bed-head, which is no laughing matter; and then, being a good Protestant, she recites chapters and verses from the Bible to charm them away. And although she has been thus plagued for years, she still holds her own against the "band of Shinrone." (Clodd, 1889, p. 83-84).

This story fits the concept of keeping your name away from malicious fairies so you cannot truly fall under their power perfectly. Sadly I haven’t been able to find this story in Yeats’ own folklore collection, but it fulfills my criteria even so.

What I have been able to find many examples of, however, is the reverse trope. Namely that knowing a fairy’s name will give you power over them. I thought this only showed up in Rumplestiltskin-type stories, but it seems a little more widespread than that. Which is very exciting to me, and merits its own post. So stay tuned.

[maukree]

Masterpost with all parts

Heyyyyy, I’m back. Again.

Did you miss me? Don’t answer that, I’m fragile.

Anyway, I just posted Chapter 5 of my increasingly 616-obsessive winteriron fic (you know, the one that this recap was meant to be for and all, not that it got away from me or anything), and it suddenly hit me that I may have jumped the gun there a tiny bit in terms of canon context.

Oops.

So here I am, crawling back into this super short (ha. HA.) recap series to catch up with my own fic timeline before anyone starts shaking receipts at me in the comments. And yes, I’m painfully aware that my very fancy, very curated, very aesthetically pleasing cover art doesn’t actually list half the comics I’ve ended up referencing in these posts, but we’re still on track: from when Bucky pops into the 616 continuity just before Civil War, through all the post-Civil War fallout, and heading straight toward Fear Itself.

Yes, other events are going to pop up in between. No, I’m not updating my Photoshop files to reflect that. Just squint, pretend it’s all intentional, and move on.

Now, as for this specific part, if you read this, you’ll find out:

What happens to Tony as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

What happens to Bucky while Tony mostly flails under the weight of the world's dumbest job offer.

That there are some intersections between them, but this is canon, folks, and, sadly, they both spend time banging people completely wrong for them (just my opinion, calm down).

Still, this is the part where, if you make it to the end, you’ll finally know how the hell Tony ends up deleting his own brain after the Secret Invasion—because he’s just that dramatic—and who he sends the only backup to. It’s Bucky. Sorry, I just knew the suspense would be killing you.

Quick reminder: we left off Part 3 with Tony handing Bucky Steve’s shield, Bucky agreeing (somehow??) to let Tony mess around with his brain, and both of them pretending this was totally normal behavior and not the fandom equivalent of swapping promise rings.

Anyhow, let’s go.

Holy shit, you clicked again. What’s wrong with you? Kidding, please stay.

So… Tony has finished emotionally decimating the superhero community via Civil War, and also just had his sexy little moment with Bucky in Captain America (2004–2011).

I might repeat myself a bit here, but I’ll at least try to keep it only to the relevant shit you came here for. (Lies. I will likely repeat myself a lot here, because only a crazy person would re-read their own ramblings to see where I actually stopped. And I will very likely add a ton of completely irrelevant information and too many bad jokes, but if you are reading part 4, you might be sorta into it, so that’s your problem, not mine.) 

We are roughly over in Invincible Iron Man Vol. 4 (2004–2007), around Issue #15, where Tony bullshits himself into thinking he’s ready to lead. Despite the fact that he’s been freshly dumped by his entire friend group and is still grieving his dead boyfriend who asked him—in writing, to make it legal and binding or something—to take care of his very stabby former possibly-love.

This stretch of comics in general is fascinating because it’s less about the suit and more about Tony vs. The System, which is hilarious when you remember he is the system now. He’s balancing national security, superhuman politics, his own guilt, and the absolute circus that is post-Civil War America. I mean, you might love him, you might hate him, and he did make a spectacular mess of things in Civil War, but the man’s trying, okay? And the art is really nice. 

Invincible Iron Man (Vol. 4) #15–18: The Initiative 

This tiny arc is mostly foreshadowing and starts off Tony’s tenure as Director with exactly the kind of subtlety you’d expect from him: by pissing off everyone. Especially Dum Dum Dugan, who, as I’ve mentioned before, is around, is very ginger, has a very impressive mustache that deserves its own comic book run, and has some very strong opinions.

So, let’s talk about Dugan for a second. Because my man is not having it. Tony rolls into S.H.I.E.L.D. with his futurist swagger, immediately starts running it like a Stark Industries satellite office, replaces a beloved cook named Cookie (rip legend, we never knew you, but your name lives on) with a private chef, and suddenly—for completely no reason at all, honestly—Dugan's looking one fabulous lunch away from full mutiny.

I mean… he kind of has a point? From the very beginning, as soon as he takes the job, Tony is so hands-on as Director that it's a miracle anyone else at S.H.I.E.L.D. has anything to do. He’s micromanaging ops and personally suiting up to punch bioweapons, which is, arguably, super effective, but also very infuriating for hardened pros. I kinda agree with Dugan here in a sense that Tony’s behavior is giving the entire agency, who already has deeply repressed authority issues from Fury, too many reasons to call Tony both daddy and their emergency field response unit.

But don’t worry, Sal Kennedy is here to try and convince Dugan that Tony’s fit for the job. If you were around for Part 1 of this totally useless recap series, you’ll remember (or not, I don't remember if I told you about him) Sal from Extremis—Tony’s chill tech philosopher BFF who wears sandals on government property and speaks exclusively like a walking TED Talk. He is ride-or-die Team Tony, which we respect, and Sal spends most of Issue #15 trying to convince Dugan that installing childcare on the Helicarrier is a boss move (it is) and that Tony isn’t an actual threat to the republic (debatable). He’s the only person besides Jarvis who talks to Tony like a human being, which, of course, means he is absolutely doomed.

More on that in a minute.

Meanwhile, over in the “Should’ve Stayed in Jail” department, Maya Hansen is still around. Remember her from Extremis, where she invented nightmare fuel, emotionally manipulated Tony, got him nearly killed, and then helped him inject that nightmare fuel into his bloodstream? Good times.

So, yeah. This gal. Unofficially working on Extremis for Tony, officially killing Tony’s chances of having a normal relationship for the foreseeable future, and vibe-check failing in every panel. She and Tony have that tragic pseudo-ex energy that won’t fucking die already, mostly because she keeps hanging around long enough to remind us she still exists.

And Tony, poor bastard, is just trying to get to the part where he can start obsessing over Bucky in peace—but no. Maya is here with her Extremis research and suspicious side-deal offers behind Tony’s back because everyone in this comic is after Extremis like it’s a completed, no archive warnings applies, slow burn, good smut on AO3.

Also, yes, in case you’re wondering who’s looming in the background all mysterious and villainous—since there’s always one of those per series—it’s The Mandarin. Yay? Different from the MCU, for sure, and you don’t know that yet in these issues, but I do, and now you do, and I’m telling you this man will haunt Tony’s entire run like the yoga-practicing demon asshat he is. He doesn’t do much here at the beginning aside from loom and look ominous and flex his yoga poses, occasionally making me confuse him with Sal (’cause both could use a haircut), but…

Anyway.

By the time we hit Issue #18 and Initiative wraps up Tony’s intro to being Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., things go from “shaky office politics” to “oh no, Tony’s having a trauma spiral again.” 

Sal dies. 

And it is gnarly. It’s really gross, people, and it leaves Tony absolutely gutted and flashing back to a few folks he’s recently lost, starting with Steve.

Thankfully, this is not a Captain America comic book, and reminiscing about dead friends is more of a Steve move, so the writers of the Iron Man comic book promptly decided that this specific moment could wait and instead gave us an epic naked scene to round this arc off—for which I am willing to forever visit comic book shops on Wednesdays and buy so many I am running out of storage space, hoping for another naked Tony scene.

That. Yeah. Tony takes off his clothes and uses the power of being hot, upset, and nearly dead to defeat an Extremis-inspired biotech weapon. It’s symbolic. It’s sweaty. And yes, I will be including those panels.

This arc ends with Maya, the sweet summer traitor that she is, taking that shady offer and wandering off to go work for the Mandarin. Seriously. Get Bucky on the phone. Or someone else on the phone. Because this isn’t the person Tony should be banging, okay?

At this point, it should be painfully clear that the only person Tony should be entangled with in the 616—or any continuity—is either:

A) A traumatized assassin with a metal arm and an obsessive lip-licking habit

B) A traumatized, mouthy, currently unemployed and on-the-run photographer who goes by Spider-Man

C) Okay, fine, a guy who used to have a shield, but is currently dead, so not dealing with trauma, lucky him

Unfortunately, Peter is busy dealing with his own angst in New Avengers, Steve is, in fact, still dead, and Bucky is somewhere punching fascists and feeling feelings off-panel—which brings us to a small detour to discuss World War Hulk, because I briefly mentioned it in my fic, which I will continue aggressively plugging because it’s Tumblr and nothing is free in this life except maybe actual fanfiction.

Invincible Iron Man (Vol. 4) #19–20: World War Hulk 

Ah yes. The event where Marvel looked at the most damaged and in need of a break heroes and said, “Want to be punched in the face?” And Tony, being Tony, said: Sure, I’ll go first. Make sure to hit hard.

A while ago, Tony and his big-brain boyband—also known as the Illuminati, or, as I like to call them, powerful assholes with terrible ideas—decided it would be a genius move to yeet Bruce Banner into space. For reasons, obviously. Because he was too unstable, dangerous, big green feelings, etc., and because nobody in that group has ever heard of successful therapy.

Naturally, Hulk comes back from space with an army, a lot of rage, a spaceship (well, you kinda need one to come back from space, but it’s a cool spaceship), and a very short, extremely pointed “Puny humans, I’m gonna wreck your shit” speech.

This is an actual Marvel event, but in issues #19–20, we stay tight on Tony’s perspective, while others, presumably, have their own tragedy happening. Since I read this event in full donkeys ago and don’t feel like doing it again just yet, here is a basic recap as it pertains to Tony.

Tony is spiraling hard. He feels genuinely awful about what they did. But guilt doesn't stop him from immediately dusting off the Hulkbuster armor to fly straight into Hulk’s fist, since 616 is peak martyr Tony. This is “let me throw my body at a problem because I deserve it and maybe also it’ll prove something to Steve, who’s still dead and everyone would not shut up about it, and Bucky, who’s probably watching” energy. It’s so Tony. And if by now you are at the very least not interested just a little in reading 616 comic books, idk what I’m doing wrong here.

Anyhow, Maria Hill and Dugan, who were skeptical at first, are fully Team Tony by this point. They’re trying to stop him from the full-on confrontation by reminding him they have protocols, but Tony always needs to suffer because he hates himself a little, so suffer he does, and he absolutely does not win. 

In fact, Avengers Tower gets leveled, which is deeply rude to all the fic writers who imagined Bucky moving into that specific version someday. Tony gets captured, but still looks great while doing that, assuming you’re into him being all chained up and in a lot of trouble. Panels included for all interested in that dynamic, you perverts. But I am not deleting those screenshots from my phone, so you are not alone. Isn’t that nice?

The actual World War Hulk is pretty fun, and a lot of shit does get wrecked, but Tony isn’t the one to save the day. It all boils down to the very shirt-ripping showdown between two of the most overpowered boys Marvel has ever created: Hulk vs. Sentry. And yes, if you’re here just after the new Thunderbolts movie, it’s that Sentry. Our boy with sad eyes and weird slippers—Bob.

I’m not gonna spoil anything about Bob (much), but 616 is different from the MCU, so don’t worry too much, I guess? The point is, both of them go full God Mode, and for a few glorious panels it’s “trauma vs. trauma,” gamma rage vs. unstable sun-god energy, and absolutely no one wins except the artists who got to draw it and readers who forked out $3.99 per issue for it.

In summary: this is a cool event, Tony gets his beatdown, gets humbled once again, and the city gets a facelift. I wasn’t yet a winteriron shipper when I read WWH, so I actually do not remember what the hell happened to Bucky during this event, but there are no Captain America issues that cover it, so… possibly not much? I assume he punches things. 

On a completely unrelated side-note (but also kind of important because I can’t stop thinking about it):

The second I mentioned Sentry, my brain—filthy thing that it is—flashed me straight back to that one issue of Mighty Avengers that ran during the same timeline as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and I had to cackle when I remembered Tony got turned into a girl, and the first thing he did as soon as he came to after it was over was check that all of his body parts were still there.

Like. No “is my heart okay,” no “do I still have functioning lungs,” just straight to “do I still have my Stark Industries, patent-pending, nanotech-augmented dick.” Iconic. (I’m kidding about it being augmented, btw—that man has big dick energy, we all know it.)

And no, I am not recapping Mighty Avengers fully here, unless I have to. Because if I do that, I’d have to go back and cover New Avengers properly, and that’s no longer a recap—that’s me writing a wiki.

Just sort of assume that there are many other issues, adventures, and semi-shippy shit happening at the same time as the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. We nod, acknowledge, giggle at Tony pawing at his boy-parts in front of his new team (Bucky excluded for the moment), and, yes, move on.

Invincible Iron Man (Vol. 4) #21–28: Haunted 

In this arc, Tony is just trying to do his job, save the world, maybe cry in peace over Steve’s memory, and instead gets absolutely steamrolled by the government, by biotech horror, by Maya “Poor decision making is my thing” Hansen, and, finally, by Mandarin.

It’s important to remember that during his time as Director, Tony is doing the best he can under impossible circumstances. And by “impossible,” I mean: the government is always on his ass, Norman Osborn is also on his ass, Norman Osborn is also just... an ass, and Tony can’t stop losing people.

This lovely eight-issue arc begins with Tony getting mindfucked on his own balcony by hallucinating Steve standing there looking all blond and tragic and judgmental, which is extra delicious for Stony shippers—especially since this is a very tender hallucination moment that hurts in all the right ways. But if you’re here in winteriron goggles, Bucky is currently wearing the stars and stripes, and if Tony saw someone in that somewhat similar suit and had a flash of “Steve?”, there’s a very real chance his brain could've hiccupped and whispered “Bucky?” first.

Anyway. Real Steve is still dead at this point (ish), so hallucination Steve disappears, and Tony is left spiraling. Again.

Then he gets… mindfucked. Also again—this time by Maya, when he’s told she’s dead. Maya, in her defense, doesn’t know she’s being accidentally evil, which is kind of her brand at this point: smart-stupid. She possibly thinks she’s helping humanity but is really just aiding Mandarin who is doing Extremis experiments on kidnapped humans and superheroes in a very evil-looking lab.

Tony, upon learning all this, reacts the way anyone in his position would: by launching an actual investigation. The government, in turn, puts him on probation, and if there’s one thing this arc reinforces, it’s that no one appreciates Tony unless he’s saving the world shirtless and bleeding.

Maya eventually does discover she’s being evil, but still manages to nearly cause a full extinction-level event, since Mandarin’s very classic plan is to unleash Extremis on the world, knowing full well only a tiny percentage of people (Tony included) can survive it.

You’d figure that instead of trying to make it more difficult for him, the government would back off—but instead, Tony gets collared with a device that dampens his Extremis connection, has to use his clunky old Iron Man suit, gets blamed, blocked, and nearly blown up. Which is where it builds to a massive showdown between Tony and Mandarin that includes a lot of sci-fi body horror, Maya yelling science things too late to be helpful, Tony nearly dying, Tony mutilating his own body to rip off the collar and reconnect with Extremis (ugh, that was very ick), and Tony saving 99.9% (or something) of the planet while bleeding out.

It’s pretty epic. It’s horrifying. It’s kind of hot in a very unwell way. And yes, I recommend reading it. At the end of all this, the same government that was just about to fire him suddenly goes, “Oh wait—you’re a hero,” and lets him keep his job.

It’s, obviously, a very squished recap of what actually happens, but do you want me to write up in detail Tony having to slice off his own heel to save the world? Nah, I didn’t think so.

Bucky’s not around in these issues, but he’s wearing the suit, carrying the shield, and probably somewhere hearing the news about Tony almost dying again. Personally, I like to imagine him muttering something like “idiot” under his breath while lowkey loading a sniper rifle labeled “In case of Osborn.”

Invincible Iron Man (Vol. 4) #29–32: With Iron Hands 

So, these four issues are technically the final arc of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. era in this run (unless you count some stuff about War Machine doing War Machine things)—even though Tony keeps clinging to the Director title like it’s an unhealthy relationship (which it is) through the beginning of the next series. Honestly, the timeline is a bit of a mess (classic Marvel), and the next run kinda starts before this one fully ends, but for all narrative purposes: this is where Invincible Iron Man Vol. 4 drops the mic. Gently. Into a crater. While on fire.

You’d think, after everything Tony’s been through—bio-horror of Extremis, Maya-related betrayal, his support system and friends dropping dead all around him, government gaslighting—they’d give him a proper send-off. But no. Then again, maybe it’s perfectly fitting that this run closes out with two separate murder plots, a mini-nuke or two, and literally everyone and their mother acting like Tony on purpose handcrafted their personal trauma in a Stark Industries lab.

The arc is about Tony winning (barely) yet another fight, but also looking like he desperately needs a nap, a decent lay (you know with whom), and five minutes where someone isn’t trying to lecture, blame, or explode him. This arc also has two villains—sorta—because, heaven forbid Tony gets a single uninterrupted crisis. Bad Guy #1 is a former friend turned nuclear hobbyist, since in Marvel, failed friendships don’t simply end in blocked numbers. Bad Guy #2 is a salty ex–S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist-slash-weapons designer who is so terminally offended by Tony’s brilliance that he hijacks a superweapon just to scream “NOTICE ME, SENPAI.”

To the shock of no one—and please tell me you are seeing the pattern here—Tony nearly dies while trying to sacrifice himself.

I could walk you through the whole plot—the plans, the explosions, the monologuing—but it’s frankly boilerplate Evil Genius 101. The real meat of this arc is in the ending, where Tony takes the win and the guilt in equal measure. Broods. Reflects. Self-flags. Stares off into the distance while flashbacking to everyone he’s ever failed and—no, this time fully dressed.

If you’re feeling MCU nostalgia, this is “I remember all of them” mood before the Russos gave that line to Bucky for drama purposes (panel included). This is OG 616 Tony Stark, kinda constipated when it comes to expressing his feelings but fully aware of every ghost he carries around in his tortured Gucci luggage.

Depending on who you ask in the 616 fandom, Tony from this era—with Civil War and all—is either a fascist, a martyr, an idiot genius with bad boundaries, or just a problematic fave with better hair than everyone else.

I say he’s a man doing his fucking best.

Yes, I’m biased. Yes, my "I Heart Tony" goggles are welded to my skull. But this run makes it very clear that Tony always believes he’s doing the right thing—or at least the best possible thing when everything is already falling apart, and the best possible thing is, okay, occasionally, a still pretty shitty choice. And unlike a lot of other superheroes who love to grandstand and sulk from rooftops, Tony actually steps up every time and doesn’t run away from hurt. And, boy, do comic book writers love to hurt him.

616 Tony is wildly flawed, emotionally repressed, and so bad at self-care it makes fanfic-level angst look tame, but he always shows up for people—whether they want his help or not. He tries, even when he knows that his past choices made it impossible for some to even say thank you. Could be why S.H.I.E.L.D.—for a hot second here—actually respects him at the end of this run. Sure, he’s a control-freak boss if there ever was one, but they don’t just tolerate Tony; they believe in him because he never asks his people to do shit he isn’t willing to do himself. And yeah, that belief is going to implode spectacularly the minute we step into the next run and Tony helps to level the whole organization, but shhh. That’s future drama.

We’ll get there.

Okay. So we’ve been elbows-deep in Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. for a while now, and at this point, you might be reasonably screaming: “What the hell is Bucky doing during all this, and please don’t tell me he’s off-panel polishing a gun?”

Well. I'm glad you asked.

It’s time to treat ourselves to Captain America (2004–2011) and catch up with our favorite murder-angel-turned-America’s Sweetheart boytoy.

And yes, before this gets more confusing—let me for the tenth time shout it loud and clear for those in the back: comic book series all happen at the same time, simultaneously, in parallel but out of order, written by four different caffeine-guzzling writers on a gazillion separate timelines. 

It’s a fact, no matter how sad, that it’s logical to suspect they don’t even read too much into the issues that do not relate to them directly. And while the guys who wrote Tony’s run didn’t think to include Bucky (we deserved at least one rooftop scene with heavy breathing and unresolved sexual tension), the guys who wrote Bucky’s Cap run did include Tony, because they clearly know he can’t resist orbiting drama that isn’t his.

Quick refresher: this picks up right after Bucky officially steps into the Captain America role, courtesy of Tony, who is secretly funding and outfitting him like it’s his side hustle. Of course, Tony lies about all this to his government bosses because honesty is not for people who are just after meeting the love of their life.

At this point, Bucky’s already thrown a few punches in the suit, decided he’s definitely not Steve, and fully committed to his own personal combat aesthetic: gun in one hand, shield in the other, a lot of fucks suddently left to give. This man is perfect, and his main bad guy to deal with is Red Skull who is lurking in the background like a racist cockroach. 

Sharon is still around (we love her), but girl is having a time. She’s pregnant with Steve’s baby, which is already a lot, was the one to kill him (oh, honey, I know brainwashing ain’t fun), and she’s also currently being mindfucked by Red Skull, which is somehow the least of her problems. Last we saw her, she faceplanted over a mysterious sci-fi tube in an evil lair she’s currently hanging out in, inside said tube finding someone who looks suspiciously like her dead baby daddy.

Captain America (Vol. 5) #37–#42: The Death of Captain America Act 3: The Man Who Bought America

This arc is super packed. Not plot-wise (meh), but emotionally, sexually, and with more sweaty men in tight costumes than a single arc should be legally allowed to contain, and this is me saying it.

Things get rolling with Tony trying to explain to Sam (Falcon) that his whole “I gave Bucky a shield, lied to my bosses, and started secretly outfitting him like a blushing sugar daddy” thing isn’t what it looks like. 

Sam’s not buying it, and neither are we, because let’s be honest: this smells strongly of love at first sight. That shield was not handed off platonically, okay? You don’t break protocol for just any guy with cheekbones and a murder record, and nobody can convince me otherwise. You can, of course, try, but when was the last time you won an argument on the internet?

Right.

Anyhow, Sam, who is hanging out with both unregistered heroes and Tony because he’s a good guy like that, is very unofficially—but also very emotionally—asked to “keep an eye” on Bucky. Aw. Again, that’s either babysitting, low-key stalking on Tony’s part, or the 616 equivalent of “he needs someone who isn’t me to make sure he eats.”

As for the actual plot, yeah, yeah, evil guys are trying to install their own president via independent candidate blah blah political corruption blah, but who the fuck cares when the shippy content is this loaded? 

Such as: Clint shows up at Bucky’s place while Bucky’s sweaty and angsty (arrrr), and they proceed to have a feelings-heavy pow-wow about what it means to wear the suit and be Cap and carry that legacy and—yeah. Winterhawk is practically canon-adjacent, tbh, and the sparks are flyyyying as Clint and Bucky have their first interaction in this timeline.

This is where we pivot to Sharon, who’s still being held hostage in Red Skull’s lair of awful and finally stumbles into a tube containing... someone who looks a hell of a lot like Steve. But… sadly not Steve. Clone Steve, since this collective trauma lasagna clearly needed more layers. So, back in evil plot town, the bad guys are still pushing their off-brand evil president, but now with a combo pack of cloned Steve they’re trying to pass off as Captain America. If you’re a little confused, we’re in this together. Let’s just assume the bad guys think this is a cool, normal, stable plan.

Some things do progress, such as: Bucky going head-to-head with evil Clone-Steve in a mutual homoerotic recognition; Sharon getting into a bit of a fight with Red Skull’s demented daughter Sin (who Bucky fucked up a few issues back); and Sam saving Bucky from falling to his death (allegedly—Bucky probably had a backup plan, but sure, let’s give Sam his moment). Bucky and Sam then set off on a shady-motel road trip to track down the clone, who sorta escapes.

I am going to repeat this again:

Sam. Bucky. Bucky and Sam. Go on a road trip that includes very shady motels, and while we are not explicitly told they’re sharing a bed, I only see one, and this was giving off so many gay vibes that Marvel editorial immediately had to send in Nat to join them before folks got the wrong idea.

On a more serious note, by the end of this arc, Sharon finally gets saved by the good guys, but loses the baby she also now doesn’t remember ever being pregnant with, which is heartbreaking. She also gets kinda fired for it, and I am not sure I am with Tony on how he handled that particular HR dispute. Sin is to blame for the baby loss, which was sorta easy to see coming and gutting to read about, and I assume was added in so we have one more reason to hate her annoying AF character. 

Bucky, of course, performs like an absolute beast under pressure, wins hearts and minds, and everyone stops side-eyeing the New Cap—though he’s still technically illegally running around as far as Tony’s official stance is concerned.

And the end of this arc—because Marvel giveth and Marvel taketh away—has Bucky celebrate by starting a cozy little hetero-flavored romance with Natasha, which I personally choose to ignore in favor of yelling “winteriron supremacy” all over Tumblr when I’m not busy yelling about winterspider, starker, or, occasionally, winterhawk. 

And while I think Anthony Mackie is one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever had the privilege to water-damage my keyboard over from excessive drooling, I am honestly blanking on what the Bucky/Sam ship is even called, which should give you all you need to know about how much I care about it. I will, however, be fair and keep my own eye for any shippy Sambucky (looked it up, are you people serious with that name?) panels.

The clone doesn’t die, btw—he’s still around and cracked crazy—but a few bad guys do get what’s coming to them. Just not the main cast. Obviously.

Captain America (Vol. 5) #43–#48: Time’s Arrow Arc & Old Friends and Enemies Arc

Okay, I’m not gonna lie—by this point in the reading order, I’m running out of steam, out of chill, and possibly out of character limit. So consider this a speed recap of the two arcs that are very much worth reading, where Bucky is doing some extra brooding, Natasha is being very bendy and helpful, and I am rapidly losing patience because Secret Invasion is coming and so is the Tony-deletes-his-brain moment we’ve all been thirstily waiting for.

But first, here’s what matters for these two arcs—which really should’ve just been one, because they both deal with the same issue, technically. The big mood for this stretch of time is: Bucky has trauma (shocking), Nat has abs (glorious), and Bucky is having some trouble sleeping. Which is unfortunate for him but also possibly unfortunate for all Bucky/Nat shippers, because instead of having healthy sex with his extremely attractive girlfriend or at least cuddling her in bed, Bucky chooses to brood and monologue about the ghosts of his past. I mean…

These arcs are basically the closest thing we get in comics to the Bucky vibes from The Falcon and the Winter Soldier show, minus Sam, who is just... not here. What we do get initially is Bucky staring into the distance, whispering “I remember them all,” and quite possibly in this timeline at approximately the same time Tony is doing the same dramatic whispering with a nearly identical speech/thought bubble.

Yes, yes, I know I joked about this line belonging to Tony and being given to Bucky, but here’s the actual beautiful winteriron parallel: both of them, simultaneously, are struggling with their past mistakes. Yes, Bucky’s guilt isn’t his fault. Yes, Tony’s guilt is kind of his fault. But I’m calling it: soulmate behavior and winteriron brainrot symmetry at its finest.

Now, about Bucky/Nat. I know I’m biased—deeply, unreasonably biased—but I don’t fully ship them? Like… at all? Even though I love them separately to bits? Yeah, they’re canon. Yeah, there’s chemistry. Yeah, they are still, sorta, going strong in the comic books. Yeah, she shows up in most of these arcs wearing strategically unzipped spy suits, and he’s out here looking like a beefcake with PTSD who is super into that, allegedly, but. Okay. Okay. Hear me out.

They have history, sure. Soviet conditioning, manipulation, sexy espionage nights, all that jazz. But both of them were stripped of agency for most of their lives, and now you want me to believe that makes for a solid romantic foundation?

No, Marvel. That makes for trauma buddies who should’ve stayed very emotionally intense besties without benefits. And yes, I do have a panel of Bucky below doing some next-level brooding on a motorcycle while referring to Natasha as his “best friend,” and if that’s not textbook “we should’ve just stayed friends” energy, I don’t know what is. Please don’t throw tomatoes, this is just a woman’s opinion. 

Back to plot: Bucky, Nat, and Namor (that fishy guy in charge of the oceans that I don't care about because DC got Jason Momoa to play Aquaman first) head to Asia and deal with some bad guys. That’s pretty much the whole plot aside from aforementioned brooding and too many (never enough) panels of Nat almost flashing us her behind. 

The bad guy in question is someone Bucky had encountered in his Winter Soldier days when he was like… 12 years old or something. Said bad guy is a super-genius with a world-ending virus, and he’s a bit salty since Winter Soldier may or may not have killed someone they love. The bad guy has a plan to use a body of Bucky’s old buddy Human Torch from the 50s (they had one when Bucky was with Steve in the Invaders) to unleash a deadly virus on the world (while, yes, Tony is preventing Mandarin from doing the same with Extremis—and are you seeing what I am seeing here?). 

There’s obviously more to this very generic bad guy and very generic bad guy plot, but the key takeaways are that Nat does cool flips, looks flawless, and occasionally side-eyes Bucky’s descent into angst. Bucky wins. World doesn’t end. The virus stays in the plot fridge.

The end.

TL;DR: Before Secret Invasion kicks off, Bucky’s haunted but doing well as Captain America. Nat’s hot but emotionally evasive, sorta. They flirt, fight, presumably do fuck. The whole dynamic is sexy, but mostly friendship-coded with a side of spy kink, and I won’t be convinced otherwise. Bucky clearly wants someone to say, “You’re enough as you are,” and I would like a word with whoever is in charge of making these decisions about why that someone couldn’t be Tony.

Anyway.

That’s it. That’s the recap. Nice arcs. Great art. Solid Bucky development. You should read it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s finally time for Secret Invasion: proper trauma porn, and Tony fucking up so bad he has to resort to turning his entire brain into downloadable content.

How do Marvel Events actually work?

Alright. Quick but necessary explanation I probably should’ve done in Part 1. Because if you’ve ever opened the Marvel Unlimited app (recommended), tried to “just read Civil War,” and suddenly found yourself 26 tabs deep in something called Front Line, you’ve already been here. Welcome to hell. We have tie-ins.

So how do Marvel events work? Well. Every once in a while, Marvel goes, “You know what would be great? Making every superhero’s life miserable at the exact same time.” That’s an event.

Here’s the basic structure: Main Event Run — usually around 5–10 issues, sometimes more. This is the “core” storyline. Think:

Civil War (2006) #1–7

Secret Invasion (2008) #1–8

Fear Itself (2011) #1–7

You can also think of Infinity War—that was an event in the MCU. Everyone gets wrecked, regardless of how well their franchise is doing. Sure, they called it a “phase” or whatever, but an event is where the big bad stuff happens to everyone and overlaps other plotlines: alien invasions, political fallout, exploding cities, Steve dramatically dying (again), Tony spiraling (again), Peter being stuck in the middle (also again), etc.

And you probably sorta get this already, but tie-ins to events specifically are where Marvel interrupts your regularly scheduled programming to say:

“Hi, we know you were enjoying Spider-Man’s personal arc, but now we’re hijacking it to show you what he was doing during this big crossover event. You will be very confused as to what the fuck is going on unless you suddenly subscribe to about a dozen other runs you never had any desire to pay for before. You’re welcome.”

Every major character, side character, and pigeon that’s ever been near a superhero gets a tie-in. Some tie-ins slap (Iron Man, Captain America), some are emotionally devastating (Front Line), some are hot garbage. But they’re all technically canon.

So when I say Secret Invasion had about 98 issues related to it (I counted once, while scrolling), I mean: the main run, a bunch of spin-offs and all those pesky tie-ins.

Am I a well-adjusted person who read all of these once like a sane casual reader? No. I read them three times:

Once for fun, because I love comic books and already finished my list of 100 classic books to read before I die, so everyone can fuck off with it not being an adult hobby (do you know how expensive it is to collect runs that completed decades ago?). Second time a few months ago for a few fic paragraphs, to make sure I got the canon right. And third time for this recap, which is less of a recap now and more like 60% my weak analysis of trauma (and repeating the words trauma, again, and hot too many times), and 40% my unhinged shipping headcanons.

I never claimed sanity. I do, however, claim to have a comic book collection, three fireproof longboxes, and a boarding technique that would make your LCS weep tears of pride—just for this event alone and the event-adjacent other runs. But that’s my cross to bear, I digress. Yes, if this amount of space for only 98 issues is confusing, well… I can’t possibly slot, say, New Avengers into my event without, like… having the whole New Avengers run. So there’s that.

I am not actually going to cover all tie-ins, just what I think is somewhat relevant to Tony and Bucky, for once.

Avengers Groups: Explained Poorly but Accurately Enough, I Hope

Okay, now that you do suspect I’m a bit crazy, let’s clear something up before Marvel gaslights you into thinking there’s only one “Avengers” team in comic books. Here’s the cheat sheet for this specific stretch of time:

Mighty Avengers

The Clean-Cut Government-Approved Avenger Experience led by our professional mess, Tony.

Includes: Carol Danvers, Ares, Wonder Man, Sentry, and others whose names I keep forgetting because they never seem to be around when Tony is having a breakdown and needs a hug.

New Avengers

The Underdog, Off-the-Grid, “We Don’t Follow Your Rules” Vibes Team—essentially Steve’s resistance crew.

Led by: Luke Cage, and occasionally (they come and go), featuring Spider-Man, Wolverine, Jessica Jones, and Doctor Strange. Clint’s around—I'll tell you about him banging Wanda in a second (whoops, let it slip too early).

Basically, they’re the scrappy, emotionally exhausted, chaotic little brother of the Avengers world. And yes, for those who’ve seen Thunderbolts, I just need Marvel to call Sam’s team the Mighty Avengers and my life will be complete.

There’s actually a new New Avengers run planned? Bucky’s on the cover. Arrrr. I can’t wait.

So… let’s assume that just before Secret Invasion, Tony is running S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Mighty Avengers, and Bucky is Captain America and mostly aligned with New Avengers vibes—though he’s not technically with them where we left him before Secret Invasion and is mostly doing his own thing as Cap while also doing Nat, who works for Tony. Neither team seems to know jack shit about what the other one’s doing 90% of the time, though Tony does spend a lot of time trying to talk his pals on the other side into giving up already and coming back to him.

It does involve the New Avengers sitting very quietly inside Strange’s magicked-to-look-like-crap mansion and pretending they are not home while Tony is standing outside with a small army, scratching on the door like a sad rejected puppy and asking for Peter to come out. I am not kidding.

Back to more important things: it is now canon in my brain (and it was planted there by the evil mastermind known as @massivespacewren) that during this exact post–Civil War, pre–Fear Itself period, Tony and Bucky were absolutely having a secret relationship. Like, think about it: Tony helps him, even though they’re on opposite sides / they’re both grieving Steve / they’re both emotionally compromised on the account of feeling too much guilt, weaponized hot, and need someone on their side privately who just wants them for them / neither of their respective teams knows where they’re going at night or why they keep showing up with mysterious bruises and better moods (Ugh… fine, this is pure headcanon, whatever.)

Still. Tell me that’s not peak forbidden romance setup. Tell me that’s not operationally inconvenient, emotionally catastrophic, and deeply sexy. You can’t. You won’t. Right? 

Anyway… now that you understand how events work (not that you didn’t before, after I alluded to this about 20 times), that Marvel dabbled in money-grabbing before Disney, and how the Avengers are more of a rotating trainwreck than a team, you’re ready to tackle Secret Invasion. Good for you. Keep reading. You know you want to.

Secret Invasion Event

When I didn’t say but very much implied that tie-ins can joyfully fuck themselves with a chainsaw, I meant it. I wasn’t exaggerating—and yes, I meant it with the full force of a person who has willingly, repeatedly, and stupidly read every tie-in to Secret Invasion, not once, not twice, but three times. That’s… not dedication so much as a personal obsession I’ve accepted. I’m not putting you through that insanity. Instead, I’m giving you a bite-sized recap of how it kicks off and what you actually need to know.

Well—bite-sized by my standards, and if you want to know more, just… read comic books or something.

So, let’s begin, like I always do, with someone emotionally repressed and traumatized making it everyone else’s problem.

Clint comes back from the dead.

This was pre–Civil War business (long story, Wanda killed him) but, as I’ve repeatedly pointed out, nobody commits to permanently dying in comic books. So, here he is, very much alive again.

After checking in on the emotional wreckage of his friends, Clint finds Tony, chats briefly about the concept of being Captain America, politely declines, and then goes off to find Wanda. To clarify, this happens just before Tony chokes on Bucky’s super-thighs and slaps that shield on him.

Now, what Wanda’s up to is happening in a completely unrelated comic I didn't read, because, contrary to what it looks like, I do actually have a personal life, the cutest dog to ever dog and full-time job. But yes, Clint finds her while Tony and Bucky are sadly not banging, bangs her, does not get the closure he’s looking for (since he’s still very much in love with his presumed-dead wife), pops up in Captain America to say hi to Bucky, considers falling in love with him on the spot and moving on just for him, but changes his mind (postpones), and decides to reinvent himself instead.

While Clint was dead for, like, five minutes in comic book years, a spunky gal stole his Hawkeye brand, and Clint’s a giver, so he lets her keep it instead of asking for his shit back. He’s a bit upset with Tony, just like everyone else, even though he missed entire Civil War and has no fucking leg to stand on, so he heads off to Asia with the New Avengers (Luke Cage, Peter, Spider-Woman, et al.), wearing a mask, wielding a sword, and being unnecessarily sexy about it as Ronin.

While in Asia, they fight Elektra, they kill Elektra, and then her body turns into what I can only describe as a very unattractive green alien lizard-zombie thing. Not even the weirdest thing that’s happened in 616, but there’s usually a bit more lead-up when a popular (ish) character like Elektra dies and is then revealed to be an alien. So this is the moment the New Avengers take a collective shaky breath and go, “What the actual fuck?”

That’s when the event kicks off.

Spider-Woman (whose arc in 616 is wildly underappreciated, btw) promptly fucks off with the Skrull-Elektra corpse, finds Tony back in his bedroom in New York (not for a sexy, slightly complicated Avengers hookup… this time) but to drop the suspicious-looking dead lady in Elektra’s clothes on his floor and ask, him being Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the guy allegedly in charge of Avengers with a big, government-approved A, what exactly he plans to do about it.

I am not a mind reader, and while Tony—who, at this point, has been holding his career together with sheer delusion and willpower, who does not need this job, who is increasingly unsure whether the clout was worth the collapse of every meaningful relationship in his life—gets out of bed, I can only hope he at least starts to wonder if he should’ve opened a winery in Malibu instead of becoming America’s scapegoat-in-chief.

But, yk, he does get involved. Of course. 

Which brings us to…

Who the hell are Skrull and what their deal is?

Green. Shapeshifting. Space assholes. That’s the short version.

The longer one is that they are a race of green-skinned, pointy-eared alien shapeshifters from a planet called Skrullos (come on, Marvel, you can do better than that). They’ve been around in comics since the 1960s, which means they’ve had decades to cause a bunch of bullshit.

They can look like anyone, down to DNA-deep impersonation. I mean, it’s not the shittiest power. You want to be Tony? Cool, now you are. You want to be Peter and perfectly mimic his resting trauma face and bubble-butt? Sure, go for it. The Skrulls started out as just one of many alien races Marvel cooked up to make the Avengers’ lives harder, but then they got kinda interesting and actually got good plotlines. Their history is unclear on some points and clearer on others, but basically for the purposes of this event:

The Skrulls once had an empire.

Then their shit got blown up.

Then they got very religious and very desperate.

Then they said, “Hey, let’s infiltrate Earth by pretending to be their heroes and sow paranoia even though… we could probably just invade.”

Which… I mean, it is still a much better plan than to keep cloning superheroes for plot reasons (cough, Thor, cough, Steve). 

And Skrull are not actually always evil by default, but Secret Invasion makes sure you think they are. If someone was a crazy-obsessed lore-hungry lunatic, one might know by now that there are good Skrulls, bad Skrulls, sexy Skrulls (hi, Teddy), and just deeply tired Skrulls who don’t want to shapeshift into your dad anymore and would rather go back to pretending to be cats in Brooklyn.

But in this specific arc they’re mostly fanatical religious terrorists with a God Complex and a master plan called “He Loves You” (the he is God, or possibly Reed Richards who they used for evil purposes, depending on how cracked your interpretation is). So yeah. They infiltrate Earth. They replace a bunch of heroes and hero-adjacent individuals—some A-list, some Z-tier (RIP whoever was pretending to be Dum Dum Dugan), and sit quietly in the background for years, waiting to strike.

In addition to their normal shape-shiffting thing they’ve got going on for them, in Secret Invasion, they’ve upgraded. They’re not just Skrulls anymore—they’re Super-Skrulls? Which somehow means they have composite powers of multiple heroes. Essentially, imagine fighting a guy who’s Spider-Man, Wolverine, Cyclops, and has Carol Danvers’ energy blasts. Now imagine there’s 20 of them. Now imagine Tony—poor, trying so hard, nobody loves him anymore Tony—emotionally compromised and under pressure, trying to tell who’s real and who’s a lizard in Steve Rogers’ pants (who, duh, is still dead).

I personally both loved and hated this event, because literally anyone could be a Skrull. That sexy panel of Natasha? Could be Skrull. That dramatic moment where Sue Storm leaves Reed in Civil War and tells him about an oily fish dinner? Actually is? That villain who suddenly got a redemption arc? Guess what. Essentially, the main reason not to love this event is that if you care about canon and character development, especially given the clusterfuck that was Civil War… well, fuck you, your favorite character might not even be the real person. So, the basic wisdom of this event, as it stands is: trust no bitch, she might be Skrull.

Main Secret Invasion Event

While we’re talking about Secret Invasion—because Tony deleting his entire brain (god, I hate that phrase too) is a direct consequence of what goes down during this event—you are not going to get a lot out of me (again, by my standards). 

Unlike Civil War, which I lovingly dissected like it was a frog in a high school lab, I’m not as emotionally invested in giving you the full play-by-play for everyone involved. So here’s me speed-running through most of it until we hit the juicy Bucky content, because, let’s be honest, that’s why we’re all here anyway.

The main event has 8 issues. Issue #1 opens strong with Tony’s meltdown arc, Season 87, things kicking off in the Savage Land. You might remember that place from that one amazing ’90s X-Men cartoon with the dinosaurs and inexplicably shirtless Charles Xavier. This is where a Skrull ship lands, so, both the New Avengers and Mighty Avengers decide to crash the party.

And just a quick side note while we’re at it: while this group of unrealistically hot people is off playing jungle lizard whodunnit, Skrulls are already running amok around the globe too. People are turning mid-sentence, Tony’s tech is getting absolutely wrecked by alien malware, S.H.I.E.L.D. is compromised, satellites are offline, and somewhere there’s probably a Skrull that was pretending to be you, stopping drawing hearts on the poster of Sebastian Stan and getting to work.

Both Avenger squads show up in the Savage Land with maximum distrust, immediately run into each other like exes in the same shop aisle, both thinking they totally had the right to be there first, some yelling happens, insults are exchanged, and everyone is kinda sweaty until the Skrull ship dramatically opens and spits out a lot of heroes.

Including Steve, which is not cool, Marvel. And Peter, who is already there, making the whole situation extremely awkward and extra uncool. No one knows who’s real, everyone is sus, the vibe is mostly paranoia, and Clint has a full-on oh no my dead wife is alive but what about Bucky moment when Bobbi Morse steps out looking sexy but possibly lizard-coded. It’s emotional. It’s also probably a Skrull.

Issue #2 is technically not filler, but it sure does feel like everyone in the Savage Land just woke up, had a group panic attack, and decided violence was the best love language. We’re deep in jungle fever now—with everyone, yes, sweaty, pissed, and staring down their dead friends in the world’s worst family reunion. Like I said, the Skrull ship has popped like a horrifying piñata full of imposters. Some of them look like old-school Avengers, some are presumed-dead exes, and others are “please God no” duplicates of people who are already standing there. And they all think they are the real deal. Spider-Man vs Spider-Man standoff freaked me out, and is literally the only thing that could make his life worse than it already was. (Besides, you know, One More Day. But we don’t talk about that anymore.)

Teams split into smaller groups to punch each other because you can’t keep stuffing 50 people into a single panel, and paranoia hits a ten. Outside the Savage Land, the rest of the world is still watching S.H.I.E.L.D. crumble, big scary spaceships land and the general question floating about is: “Are we about to get bent over by our new scaly overlords?”

Issue #3 is gutting. It’s trust no bitch, take 3—but now with the addition of not trusting your butler. The issue itself is also a banger. I love it. Peak chaos.

So. Everything’s blowing up. S.H.I.E.L.D. is fully compromised, strategic facilities around the globe are detonating like it’s clearance week at Doomsday Depot, no one knows what the fuck is happening, including the reader who is now losing track of who is alien and who is not, refusing to believe, and the only consistent thing is that literally everyone is accusing each other of being lizards.

Like—Maria gets called out for possibly being a Skrull purely because she’s competent, organized, and doesn’t flirt with Tony. Which, in 616 logic, is apparently suspicious behavior. She’s also a robot who gets very much beheaded. Long story, all good there. But the biggest betrayal of all is Jarvis. My sweet, soft-spoken, murder-capable butler is also a Skrull. The betrayal cuts deep, and this is why we can’t have nice things.

Tony, for the moment, doesn’t know he needs to start looking for another British emotional support blanket, and is hiding in a cave in Savage Lands. No, really. Tony, billionaire genius futurist, is once again dying in a dinosaur-infested jungle cave. He has no Wi-Fi, his Extremis is crashing harder than his social standing post–Civil War, and his fancy suit might as well be made of wet cardboard. Then—just to add insult to internal bleeding—Spider-Woman walks in. You’d think: “Oh, cool, someone here to help and finally give him a hug.” No. Absolutely not.

She slinks in all sultry and suspicious, looks him dead in the eyes, and says something that sounds awfully similar to: “Hi babe. You’re one of us. Surprise! Congrats! You’ve done so well! Mommy Skrull is proud.” The Skrull Queen claiming that Tony—the man who already hated himself more than the public does—is the greatest Skrull weapon of all time is just…

You know what? For a second there, it makes sense, and would explain a bunch of things and his recent fuck-ups. But no… they just let Tony be Tony, that’s all. Which is somehow worse. Give him enough rope, a registration act, and control over national defense systems, and boom: StarkTech in everything and the Skrulls are waltzing in—all thanks to the damaged but still very lovable unintentional war crime with facial hair I don’t approve of in these runs. 

Issue #4 is somehow both eventful as hell and weirdly filler-adjacent, in that a bunch of important shit happens, but also half of it is setup for the finale and the other half is just everyone still being sweaty and confused. Tony is still not enjoying his caving experience, looking like he’s just lost a three-way fight between a Skrull, his nervous system, and the concept of self-worth. Thankfully, Nat kicks in cave’s non-existing door, with guns blazing and hair immaculate, delivering the closest thing Tony gets to aftercare in, like, a decade of comic books. She scares the Skrull Queen away, sees Tony mid-breakdown, and is like, “Jesus Christ, you look like shit.” Then she shoots him up with adrenaline, because she’s awesome like that.

Back on the mainland, Nick Fury finally crawls out of his hidey-hole, just after finishing binge-watching all of Netflix and is now ready to kick some things. He’s got a new crew, a trench coat, and approximately zero time for anyone’s bullshit. Thor shows up too, back from the dead, officially. Not a clone. Not a Skrull. I don’t actually remember why, but I assume it happened in his comic book. The point is, the big blond thunder daddy is back and is descending from the sky to say, “Alright, who the fuck broke Midgard?”

I don’t know if Bucky found out about Skrull on TV or opened his door in New York to find a Skrull on his doorstep trying to sell him girl scout cookies, but he’s joining the fight too and doesn’t currently know how much trouble Tony is in. 

Issue #5 is… kinda skippable. It's the narrative equivalent of holding your breath and hoping nobody asks if you’re a Skrull. The Skrulls decide it's time to go full reality TV and broadcast a heartfelt global message starring Tony, a few random politicians (lol, "trusted officials"—Marvel, be serious), and a touch of “we come in peace” bullshit. Classic intergalactic gaslighting, now with better production value. Shockingly, some civilians buy it and start chanting “Take us!”—which is maybe kink, maybe cowardice, but definitely not the way to be saved.

Issue #6 has Thor, Tony, and Bucky-Cap gracing the cover, which is the stuff of dreams for me, honestly. Thor and Bucky share a weirdly intimate, testosterone-heavy moment where Thor’s like “Who the hell are you?” and Bucky’s like “America’s rebound, nice to meet you.” Meanwhile, Tony is still out here having a crisis inside a crisis, his Extremis all but useless, but also gearing up to save the world while nearly dead again. For the love of God, someone hug this man already. Or at least offer him a sandwich and tell him he’s doing okay.

The rest of the issue is just Marvel flexing every team-up they’ve got. New Avengers, Mighty Avengers, Young Avengers, probably someone's cousin from the West Coast Avengers—all yeeted onto a battlefield in New York. The Skrulls are out here led by Queen Veranke, who is still doing her sexy Spider-Woman cosplay, and the issue ends with the general vibe of it’s everybody-vs-everybody-else-but-green and “Avengers Assemble!” energy. It’s very symbolic post-Civil War, it is. I just wish they didn’t touch Jarvis, that was a low blow.

Issue #7 is 90% punching, 10% emotional damage, and 100% shipping fuel if you’re feral enough (hi, it’s me). The big battle’s in full swing now, and we finally get a panel with Tony, Bucky, and Peter all in the same frame—which, if you know me at all, is basically my OT3 doing a full-body naked Eiffel Tower in my brain. We eat.

Tony is grumbling that his suit’s duct tape, since Extremis is toast. He mentions it while punching bad guys, and then Bucky—who is surprisingly tender when he wants to be—looks at him and goes: “Go fix yourself. This isn’t the place for—damn!”

Now.

I’m not usually the type to hallucinate ships out of nothing (bold lie, moving on), and I’m sure someone out there will claim “He just meant Tony was complaining and Bucky just needed him in top shape to fight,” but no. No. Because this isn’t just a professional concern. This is “I’m trying really hard not to say ‘baby’ in front of the Avengers.”

There’s a pause. A cut-off word. That’s comic book language for feelings, people. He might as well have whispered, “Get to safety, love, I’ll hold them off,” and slapped Peter on the ass just to make Tony jealous.

Panel included. Because I’m a giver too. You’re welcome.

While you rejoice and want me to shut up already to scroll to that panel, we cut to Jessica Jones, who has been hanging around for a while like a relatable, exhausted mom trying to finish one (1) cup of coffee before a new level of shit hits the fan. She’s mostly been off-panel burping the cutest baby in the Marvel universe, which she made with Luke Cage, obviously. Power couple. Literally. But now, while sipping her juice and watching the Skrullpocalypse unfold on basic-ass cable, she clocks her man Luke out there getting his ass handed to him and goes, “Yeah, no.”

She panics. She tears up. And in the ultimate I’m-a-bad-bitch-and-a-bad-mom-sometimes-too move, she grabs her jacket, tosses the infant at Jarvis, and fucks off to join the battle. Yes. You read that correctly. She leaves the actual, literal Avengers baby—the Marvel equivalent of America’s Next Hope—with Jarvis, who, friendly reminder, is currently a Skrull, which we know and are crying about.

So, good issue. While Jessica is off joining her man in battle, Bucky is here being a supportive, leather-clad husband, telling Tony to “go fix yourself” while casually sticking around to bodyguard Peter—the traumatized child they co-parent via mutually unresolved guilt or, like, do other unspeakably awesome things to, since he’s—I am tired of saying this to everyone—not underage in 616 (dude was married) and, since it’s about time you all quit it, is also not underage in the MCU anymore. Starker, winterspider, and winterironspider for life, every ship is valid. I give you SamBucky, Stony and Stucky in equal measures, give me that.

So let’s break that down:

Jessica says, “I see my man suffering—I’m going in.” Bucky sees his man suffering—says, “I’ll take care of our kid while you go put some make-up on, darlin’.” Jarvis is in the kitchen being like, “Would now be a bad time to reveal I’m not actually me?” The symmetry is gorgeous. The emotional neglect is peak Marvel. And the shippy content is everything you want it to be.

Issue #8 is where the event technically “wraps up,” as in, we won—but at what fucking cost? The Skrulls go down, the planet is saved, sure, whatever, congratulations Earth—but emotionally this issue breaks Tony over its knee like a cheap broomstick. The final kill shot doesn’t even come from one of our main heroes. Norman Osborn is who gets the last shot in on Queen Veranke, who is already dying anyway. And that one move—that one media-perfect, camera-ready “hero” moment—is all it takes for the world to decide he is the new face of heroism. As opposed to Tony and everyone else who busted their ass and didn’t roll in at the last minute like the criminal with greasy hair and government connections and the moral compass of Elon Musk he is. 

One last Skrull ship opens its door on the battlefield (because drama), revealing the real Dugan, real Spider-Woman, real Jarvis, and real Bobbi and some other real folk. It's supposed to be a big moment—yay, everyone who was a Skrull is now not a Skrull and are technically back, just missed the last few however long—but the only one who really gets anything good out of this is Clint, who starts making out with Bobbi immediately. That is, of course, until Bucky becomes emotionally available for some mutual pining in Hawkeye and Winter Soldier run, which I really should cover one day, ‘cause Tales of Suspense slap.

And while Jessica and Luke promptly realize that their baby has been kidnapped…

Tony. Is. Ruined.

He’s bruised. He’s exhausted. He’s so happy to see Thor again—you can literally feel the baby-hope coming off him in waves. He’s already smiling, already probably planning post-battle shawarma and a group therapy invite—and then Thor tells him to fuck off. Just, “No, you don’t get to be part of this.”

And then everyone walks away. Yup. Every hero on the battlefield, including Bucky, turns their back on Tony. Like he didn’t just risk everything (again). Like he didn’t just crawl through this entire event bleeding from the brain and still trying to fix everything.

And look—I’m not saying this is the moment that broke him, but if Tony was still on the fence about deleting his own brain before this? Yeah. This is the last straw. He’s lost his rep, lost S.H.I.E.L.D., lost the narrative, and now he’s lost his people what feels like for good.

Which leads us—seamlessly, tragically—into World’s Most Wanted and Dark Reign, which I’m going to skim past because if I don’t, this recap will hit 15k and nobody is that committed to reading my shit unless it involves actual smut. Not that I have any illusions that anyone’s still reading this except maybe Googlebot and the 2.5 mutuals who also cry about 616 Tony at 2AM, but I’m stubborn as hell and I need this finished—for me. Because I have plans. I have fics. I have so many winteriron and others ideas shoved in my notes app related to 616 I will die on this hill.

So… we keep going. Just for a few more issues and the brain deletion. But, like, we sprint, okay? 

Invincible Iron Man (2008–2012) #8–#19.

Or, as it will be known from now until the solar death of the internet: Brain Damage Is a Love Language.

Note: The first 7 issues of this run feature Tony still as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. pre–Secret Invasion, with Issue #7 featuring both Tony and Peter on the cover—for my brand of perverts—but we’re gonna skip those, because they’re not that relevant.

So here we are, post–Secret Invasion, and boy, are things just peachy. By “peachy,” I mean Tony has been very publicly fired, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been deleted from the timeline for the foreseeable future, and Norman Osborn—yes, the former Green Goblin—is now in charge of national security. He’s renamed the operation H.A.M.M.E.R. after firing everyone else, which everyone from the MCU probably finds at least a bit confusing (the name)—since, what about Justin? Idk, nobody cares.

Tony is not coping well, sure, and he’s once again been abandoned by everyone. He’s been ousted as Director, publicly humiliated, accused of handing Earth to the Skrulls (it wasn’t entirely his fault, okay?), and now Norman “I Put the Creep in Creepypolitics” Osborn is breathing down his neck demanding the superhero registration database. You might wonder why he needs it, but Norman has an uncomfortable fixation on Spider-Man that will make Quintin Beck seem very subtle and boyfriend-material, and if Norman can’t bang Peter, he at least wants to fuck him up—or, at minimum, know his legal name.

If you’ve been paying attention, you might recall that during One More Day (gross), Peter traded his marriage and the knowledge of his secret identity to Mephisto for Aunt May’s life, like the messy Catholic masochist that he is. So now no one remembers he unmasked during Civil War, not even Tony. This is prime Starker identity-porn brainrot territory—Tony doesn’t remember Peter’s face, but there’s this haunting familiarity, this vibe, this urge to protect the mouthy little spider. Delicious. But this is not about Peter, so this is all you get on this for now. (Pause for mournful sigh from the Starker corner.)

So, this is the real start of Norman’s Dark Reign era: Tony disgraced, on the run, hated by everyone, but still hot and surprisingly functional until becomes a lot less functional but remains hot even when in a coma. We are nearly there, I know you are tired.

So while Peter is swinging around anonymously again and Norman is salivating over his IP address, Tony is quietly deciding to erase his memories from existence. Because that’s what you do when:

Your public image is in the toilet

Your tech has been compromised

You’re personally holding the most dangerous database in the world inside your brain

And literally everyone you love has left you or been brainwashed or died

As in: Tony takes one look at the hellscape that is Norman Osborn’s Dark Reign, knows he’s about to be officially hunted, and goes, “You know what might fix this? Me, but less,” and starts planning his brain deletion.

Like… is this him giving up? Is this him taking a mental health day? Is this a long-overdue vacation into clinical dissociation? I am honestly unsure—it’s a bit unclear. All I know is, he thinks wiping his brain like it’s a crusty hard drive is a good idea, and unfortunately, nobody can stop him.

Now, to be fair, Pepper and Maria both try to talk him out of it. They give him the whole “Tony, sweetie, maybe don’t” routine. But their voices of reason are quickly overridden by the even louder voice of comic book logic, which says: yes, deleting your own memories to protect the superhero registry from Norman Osborn is a totally normal decision. It’s also extremely yummy when it comes to angsty fanfiction follow-ups, so we are gonna call this a splendid move on his part, cool?

Anyway, here are some greatest hits from this extremely questionable arc:

Tony leaves Stark Industries to Pepper, but then tops it by giving her her own Iron Man suit, because apparently you can’t be CEO of SI without having a repulsor of your own.

He also bangs her goodbye. As in, “Sorry I’m about to erase my personality, wanna hook up real quick?”

Then Tony gives the only backup of his brain to Maria Hill and pretty much tells her, “Take this to the one man I trust with my entire mind.” Maybe not in those words, but sending his chance to ever wake up again to Bucky has to mean something, right? Let’s pause and feel that. Bucky. Who Tony, allegedly, met only a handful of times. Like… Maria is there. She could just hold onto the drive. But… no. Give it to Bucky. Do I even need to say more here? How are there not, like, 10000 fanfics about this?

Then, of course, Tony bangs Maria goodbye too. Which I’m honestly fine with because it’s weirdly sexy, but also a clear sign that the brain deletion is working and we’ve officially entered the “Tony regresses emotionally to horny self-destruction” portion of the arc. For further clarity, the brain deletion is not instant, hence all the random banging, not that it’s not already Tony’s brand.

To my extreme disappointment, this whole storyline is not just “Tony on the run, being clever.” I wish. It’s Tony getting increasingly dumber by the issue, Maria losing her mind trying to keep the backup safe and delivered, Pepper doing something I really couldn't be arsed mentioning, and Norman Osborn looming like an asshole he is, making his crush on Peter everyone’s problem. It all culminates with Tony finally going full potato, Norman about to kill him, and then having to back off because it’s being broadcast live on TV.

By the end of the arc, Tony doesn’t get fully dead, but does fall into a coma, Norman doesn’t get his database, Bucky is doing Bucky things and about to properly team up with New Avengers, Peter included, and that’s the big ending of the World’s Most Wanted arc which will be promptly followed by actual panels of Bucky standing over Tony’s unconscious body and resisting the urge to hold his hand. 

And that—that’s where I leave you. Also where I left you in my fanfic, since my refreshed canon knowledge and my AO3 published shit like to meet at the exact same tragic midpoint. Sorta. 

I’ll be doing some more comic reading this weekend, so expect another recap soon, my trusty Googlebot. Later.

P.S. Yes, I’m including the panel of Tony banging Maria—not just because I’m weirdly into it (I am), but because Marvel gave us a full visual of Tony going at it against a wall and this needs to exist on the interwebs.

[shiki-jin]

YOUR CELESTIAL MAJESTY • SAGAU

(part 0 here)

was listening to TruE on loop while writing the last part of this, it's genuinely such a good song ugwvdya

also can you spot the contradiction ;D it's plot relevant i promise

not proofread, dont bully me ill write a thesis on why youre a meanie

—

you had long deleted genshin, since you had other things to do. you had wanted to go back to the game for a while now, now that you were less busy, but there was just one little problem.

it was now taking up nearly triple the amount of space that it was when you uninstalled it. around 300 whole gigabytes.

jesus christ, what phone can even handle this???

your phone, apparently. because as you opened the game to see if maybe a miracle would happen and that if maybe they would just, like, remove half of the things in the game, it just… kinda loaded?

no installing new files, no checking for anything, no nothing…. just an immediate pan to the gates of celestia.

you decided to check if it was the right genshin since this was just way too weird, but countering your judgement, every link you found led you to the same game, leading you to believe it not to be a bootleg or an illegal version.

guess i’ll trust it then.

you clicked on the gates which opened smoothly, and your screen turned white. then, the symbols of the seven elements appeared in gray.

and then the game just… opened. no loading time, once again. no getting stuck on the geo symbol, nothing. nada. just a smooth entrance into what you had to assume to be teyvat — but your surroundings didn't really support that claim.

the grass was brown and just looked off, the sky was gray. a darker shade than, say, mond’s walls, but it was like one of those game crashes.

well, except you could still move around.

you moved your current character around (the traveller? since when were they the only one in your team?) and decided to open the map after not figuring out where you could possibly be.

hold on, this is springvale? since when?

eveything looked dead, like it had been rotting for a century. you tried to ignore it though, and teleported to the inside of mondstadt. surely this was just some glitch, right? one that would fix itself if you teleported?

maybe the world loaded incorrectly, maybe the fact that nothing took time to load meant that it couldn't load, maybe this or that, maybe…

maybe this really was how the game looked normally. you hadn't done any quests though, so you wondered if it could be restored.

you took a screenshot of the your surroundings — the stone, worn down and dirty. the houses which looked to be in a horrible state, and… the npcs, all sickly and pale, like they were starving.

you went to reddit (yes, reddit), and posted the screenshot, asking if it was normal.

you closed the game and decided to take a nap, too tired to really deal with this shit any further.

while you slumbered, people replied to your post.

╰┈➤ lol me too anon, me too

╰┈➤ isn't the game closed or wtv? how'd you get this wtf

╰┈➤ they're trolling

╰┈➤ o makes sense oops

╰┈➤ So we’re all still mourning huh

╰┈➤ jokes aside that's a super impressive edit ngl

you remained unaware of the truth, but you'd find out soon enough.

actually, you'd find out now, apparently…

what the fuck?? why is my bed so hard now?

you groaned and forced your eyes open, seeing a dark, nearly black sky.

the only light was a single star, lingering right above you.

“since when was i outside...?"

a voice spoke to you, answering your question.

“you always have been, have you not? but would you like to head inside, my lord?”

... huh? i recognize that voice...

—

p.s. place your bets on who it is, i’m thinking of one specific character but if there's a fan fav i'll make it them instead since i haven't written anything beyond this point (⁠・⁠_⁠・⁠;⁠)

p.s.s. don't expect updates to this series too quickly, i wish i could write as quick as i think of ideas but sadly that's not the case orz

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXV

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Drinking is mentioned, Satoru is ooc and a bit mean. Umm... I don't know. If you think of anything, let me know.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII, Part XXIV

----------------------

“Are you sure you don’t want some company? You look kind of…” Haruki did not finish that sentence, but you could guess what he meant.

Affected? Dumbfounded? Hurt? I am, all of those.

After your argument with Satoru, both of you had returned to the table looking gloom and shaken, and none of you had had the stomach to try the dessert after all.

Out of decency, Satoru had not made any excuses to leave early. But his eyes did not meet yours for the rest of the night, alternating between Haruki, Shoko, and the dessert he would push around over his plate but would not eat. And just like you, he had lost all will to chat with the rest. Then he had said his goodbyes quickly and left you all standing on the street outside the restaurant.

After you accompanied Shoko part of the way in the direction of her house, Haruki had insisted on walking you home.

Now you were standing in front of the closed door to your apartment with concerned hazel eyes trying to decipher what was going through you head.

“I guess I could not impress your friends, could I?” he asked, testing your mood.

You still did not look at him when you replied “You didn’t do so bad. Shoko was quite pleased.”

It was true. Even if the mood had become awkward towards the end of the night, you could tell Shoko had apparently enjoyed herself for a while.

“But Gojo wasn’t… It must have been quite a chat if it let you both that quiet.”

You knew there was no hostility in his tone, but it still reminded you of everything Satoru had told you.

“Is it because…?”

“Why did you have to…?”

Both of you had spoken at the same time, but when Haruki’s eyes connected with yours, he knew the answer to the question he had not finished. “So, it is because of what I said that Gojo got so weird. Am I right?”

He sighed.

It was not like you to look for someone to blame, and in all honesty, you could probably blame yourself for most of what had happened, but…

“He got the impression you and I have something, and now he thinks I was toying with him.”

He figured it had been something like that. He had felt like Gojo was mentally throwing daggers at him when he finally returned to the table and set his eyes on him.

“I’m sorry...” Haruki’s eyes showed genuine regret. “I guess I got petty. The other night, when you told me you felt he actually likes you, and that you wanted to give him a chance…” He smiled sadly. “...I felt happy for you, really. But when I saw him tonight, and the way he looks at you, I realized I would have to let you go.”

He had never seen it up-close, the way you and Gojo orbited around each other; how any of you would say something and immediately look at the other as if waiting for their reaction, the looks and smiles between the two revealing the complicity shared, like a dance you were the only ones who knew the steps of, a synchronized waltz perfected through the years.

You leaned against the door and looked down. “He hates me now though.”

Haruki leaned his side against the wall, looking at you. “You know,” there was a slight change in his remorseful tone from before, “when I was in high school, I was working parttime at this coffee shop, and one day during cashier duty, I spotted this person in the line and immediately felt like I needed to know them. I could have just given them their order and taken their money, but I asked them about the keychain dangling from their bag.”

I remember.

“I’ve never once regretted it,” he said looking into your eyes. “They turned out to be fun and smart, and made me so happy during a time when I was so miserable at home. I even felt a bit jealous of the friends who got to see them every day, and of that Satoru they talked so much about, and who obviously had loved them long before I even met them.”

Right, even back then, you would constantly mention Gojo during your outings. You had thought it was just natural for friends to talk so much about each other, to be constantly reminded of your bond, to see something and wonder if Satoru would like it, eat it, what would he think of it, and the need to share anything you found enjoyable with him.

‘Satoru would say this is not sweet enough.’

‘Satoru likes this anime too.’

‘The other day, Satoru said…’

Looking back at it, maybe you had fallen for him long before your lips touched his.

“I am sure he still feels the same,” Haruki said almost in a whisper as he reached for your face.

Looking at you, Haruki wondered what would have happened if you two had had more time. Would he have had a chance if you had met at a different stage in life? Would you have still drifted apart if your time had not been cut short when you were younger? If only he had met you sooner or maybe later than that hot summer that persuaded you to enter the air-conditioned coffee shop where he was working to escape the heat for a few minutes, would things have been different?

No... It is unfair to blame timing.

Those few minutes making small talk with you stretched into one of the happiest seasons of his youth. He did not want to change it, and hoped you did not either, even if the period when he could hope for anything more than friendship had come to an undeniable end.

“And you and him will sure have many more happy seasons together,” he said before pressing a caste kiss on your cheek and embracing you.

To you and Haruki, this was his way of saying goodbye to the possibility of anything else between you and him, an amicable end to a bright summer.

Unfortunately, to the white-haired man standing farther away in the hallway, who had not heard his words but witnessed his actions, although unnoticed by any of you, it felt like the end of the world he had been living in for the last few weeks.

***

If anyone had told Yaga that hiring two of his own former students as teachers would make his life this hard, he would have decided against it from the start.

Gojo was MIA, and he had had to call a substitute to cover for him. And then, there was you, who while physically present before your students, did not look as focused as usual.

You had taken your class to the training grounds for an improvised training outside, or that was what you were telling to Principal Yaga.

“I didn’t think ‘improvised’ was your teaching style, [name],” Yaga said while observing your students. “That’s more like Satoru’s.”

“I suppose,” you agreed, trying to ignore the painful feeling hearing his name caused.

Yaga glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Your face was turned to the training grounds ahead of you, but a look into your eyes would easily reveal your mind was somewhere else.

As your former mentor, Yaga usually trusted your teaching methods and knew better than to pry on your personal business, so he opted for letting it is slip.

“Now, about Satoru, you wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

That question seemed to briefly pull your mind from wherever it was, and Yaga saw you focus on the kids running around in the field and shake your head lightly. “No, I haven’t heard of him.”

Nothing since that night.

“What a way to slack off,” Yaga grumbled. “I’ll have Ijichi pay him a visit.”

Despite your low spirits, that thought amused you.

Poor Ijichi; he had been your junior in high school, and while he had become a reliable assistant, still looked up to you and Shoko. You suspected he held some of the same respect for Gojo, and that may be why he put up with his antics so much. That did not mean that Satoru had stopped treating him as his underclassman, though.

Even if he can find Satoru, he will be lucky if he can talk any reason into him and drag him to the school.

“Right, why don’t you go instead?”

Yaga was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

Had you said that aloud?

“Me?" you asked. You? Reach out to Satoru, after everything that had happened? "I can’t.. I mean, I have to watch my students.”

Lame excuse, and by the way Yaga kept his eyes on yours, you could tell he knew it was just that, an excuse.

Of course, he probably was not caught up with all the drama between you and Satoru, so he did not see any issues with his request.

“You mean the students who are about to shot us an arrow?”

“What…?”

You did not have time to finish the question when indeed, and arrow infused with curse energy flew by between you and Yaga followed by the gasps and ‘watch out’ screams of the kids.

You looked at them in disbelief and yelled, “I said no cursed tools for now! Put that away.”

Their obedience probably was motivated by Principal Yaga’s stern watch on them rather that your scolding.

“Sure, you may need to keep a sharper eye on them.” The principal’s expression was a severe as always, but you thought you saw the ghost of a smile on his face. “Check on Satoru later, alright? And tell him that he should pass by my office when he finally decides to grace us with his presence.” Now his tone had been a bit more serious.

With that, Yaga left.

Only once he was out of your sight, he allowed himself to smile more openly, remembering a certain group of students who had done their own fair share of mischief back in the day. Not that he would not give one of them a good scolding for skipping work though.

***

“Hello?” you asked, cautiously stepping into Gojo’s apartment.

You had knocked, many times actually, but there had been no response.

He had missed the whole workday at the school; as far as you knew from the assistants, he not been sent on any missions, and even Shoko had confirmed not having communicated with him at all that day.

He had not responded to your texts or calls, so you did the one thing you had been hoping to avoid all day: going to his place.

After some awkward minutes knocking on his door, you decided the situation was getting concerning and took out the emergency spare key you had to Satoru’s apartment.

When you were finally in, the darkness was the first thing you noticed. The sun was going down and some light still filtered through the partially open curtains.

Maybe he is not home?

“Satoru?” you called.

You walked further into the apartment and saw Gojo laying down on the couch of his living room. You stepped closer and noticed he was asleep.

Carefully, you towered over him.

Is he sick or...?

Only then, you noticed the half-full bottle of vodka on the table. Since when did he have alcohol at home?

“[name].”

Satoru was laying still, looking at you with half-lidded eyes, and you took a step back, straightening up. “You’re awake.”

He sat up. “How did you get in?”

At least he does not look too drunk.

You raised your hand, still holding the spare key he had given you. “You did not come to the school. Have you been here the whole day?”

His focus shifted to his surroundings as if he was disoriented.

“Where is your phone? We have called you a hundred times. Yaga is pissed, and…”

“Can-can you stop?” His brows were furrowed, and he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have a headache... Why is it that you are you here again?”

You huffed. “Yaga asked me to come here. Are you drunk?”

You did not recognize the look he gave you and his eyes drifted to the bottle sitting in front of him, the recollection of the last couple of days slowly coming back to him. Him telling you those awful things in the restrooms, him going to your place because he felt bad for saying them, him seeing Ikeda getting all affectionate with you, his blood boiling at the sight and the ache in his chest that followed.

The rest was a blur.

He had bought that bottle and been hesitant at first about drinking any of it. No, he did not like the taste of it nor the burning feeling in his throat, but once the alcohol had settled in, it would numb his senses, and if he was lucky, he would fall unconscious into a prolonged dreamless sleep. At that moment, it looked exactly like what he needed. The only thing he had not considered was the pounding headache he would wake up with.

The place was almost completely dark, but the little light getting in shone too brightly. He closed his eyes.

“Satoru?”

With effort, he opened his eyes enough to see you were handing him his blindfold. He must had left it discarded on the floor.

He took it, and the way his fingers brushed yours did not go unnoticed by either, but he quickened to pull his hand back and cover his eyes as if it had not happened.

You let a soft sigh scape your mouth. “Can we talk?”

You looked at him expectantly.

“I think we’ve talked enough,” he said in a flat tone.

He knew you needed to talk. What had happened in the restrooms that day had hardly been talking. It had been yelling and accusing, mostly from his part. He had felt ashamed for exploding like that, but when he thought of Ikeda holding you in front of your apartment, he could not help but feel hurt and betrayed all over again.

“No, Satoru. I mean, actually talking, explaining, and…”

And telling you I love you.

“I said there is nothing to talk about, [name]. Please just leave me alone.“

You swallowed your words. He wanted alone time. That was understandable.

“Okay,” you agreed almost breathless. “I get you are not feeling well.”

You eyed the bottle on the table in front of him. “Don’t drink more, okay?” Your voice was soft, mindful of the headache he had.

You wanted to stay and look after him, just as you always did when he was not feeling well, but his rigid posture and the way his face was turned away from you, was a clear sign that he would not be receptive to your presence now.

“And call Yaga," you continued. "He wanted to know if you’re coming to the school tomorrow or if he will need another substitute.”

The slight nod he gave you was the only confirmation that he had heard you.

“Okay,” you nodded back and turned to leave.

“[name]?”

You halted at the mention of your name and walked back, hopeful.

Satoru was still looking at some invisible point in front of him instead of your face, and the fact that his blindfold was on, and the room was almost completely dark made it only harder to read his expression.

“I’d like you to please leave your spare key.”

Huh?

You blinked once, twice. Your throat was closing. Why did you suddenly felt like crying?

Was it the foreign courteous tone in which he had request it? Was it because he was asking you to return a symbol of your friendship and trust in each other?

Perhaps, it was the underlying meaning behind such action why your hand trembled slightly when you placed the key on the table in front of him.

If he noticed the tear that landed on his carpet when you bent forward or if he was tempted to stop you and comfort you, you could not tell because you had never walked out of Satoru’s apartment faster.

----------------------

Note: Sorry for any typos, errors, etc. I'll proof-read later... at some point...someday.

For now, I hope you are all well. <3

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XXVI

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski @rosellerinfrost @catowru @bi-narystars @wondermilka @fortunatelyfurrygiver @shrxui @cc1306 @chili-paste

[mysticstronomy]

COULD WE USE BLACK HOLES FOR TIME TRAVEL??

Blog#463

Wednesday, December 18th, 2024

Welcome back,

Black holes form natural time machines that allow travel to both the past and the future. But don’t expect to be heading back to visit the dinosaurs any time soon.

At present, we don’t have spacecraft that could get us anywhere near a black hole. But, even leaving that small detail aside, attempting to travel into the past using a black hole might be the last thing you ever do.

A black hole is an extremely massive object that is typically formed when a dying star collapses in on itself.

Like planets and stars, black holes have gravitational fields around them. A gravitational field is what keeps us stuck to Earth, and what keeps Earth revolving around the Sun.

As a rule of thumb, the more massive an object is, the stronger its gravitational field.

Earth’s gravitational field makes it extremely difficult to get to space. That’s why we build rockets: we have to travel very fast to break out of Earth’s gravity.

The gravitational field of a black hole is so strong that even light can’t escape it. That’s impressive, since light is the fastest thing known to science!

Incidentally, that’s why black holes are black: we can’t bounce light off a black hole the way we might bounce a torch light off a tree in the dark.

Albert Einstein’s general theory of relativity tells us matter and energy have a curious effect on the universe. Matter and energy bend and stretch space. The more massive an object is, the more space is stretched and bent around it.

A massive object creates a kind of valley in space. When objects come near, they fall into the valley.

That’s why, when you get close enough to any massive object, including a black hole, you fall towards it. It’s also why light can’t escape a black hole: the sides of the valley are so steep that light isn’t going fast enough to climb out.

The valley created by a black hole gets steeper and steeper as you approach it from a distance. The point at which it gets so steep that light can’t escape is called the event horizon.

Event horizons aren’t just interesting for would-be time travellers: they’re also interesting for philosophers, because they have implications for how we understand the nature of time.

When space is stretched, so is time. A clock that is near a massive object will tick slower than one that is near a much less massive object.

A clock near a black hole will tick very slowly compared to one on Earth. One year near a black hole could mean 80 years on Earth, as you may have seen illustrated in the movie Interstellar.

In this way, black holes can be used to travel to the future. If you want to jump into the future of Earth, simply fly near a black hole and then return to Earth.

If you get close enough to the centre of the black hole, your clock will tick slower, but you should still be able to escape so long as you don’t cross the event horizon.

So, you’ve found a black hole and you want to use your trusty spaceship to go back and visit the dinosaurs. Good luck.

There are three problems. First, you can only travel into the black hole’s past. That means that if the black hole was created after the dinosaurs died out, then you won’t be able to go back far enough.

Second, you’d probably have to cross the event horizon to get into the loop. This means that to get out of the loop at a particular time in the past, you’d need to exit the event horizon. That means travelling faster than light, which we’re pretty sure is impossible.

Third, and probably worst of all, you and your ship would undergo “spaghettification”. Sounds delicious, right?

Sadly, it’s not. As you crossed the event horizon you would be stretched flat, like a noodle. In fact, you’d probably be stretched so thin that you’d just be a string of atoms spiralling into the void.

So, while it’s fun to think about the time-warping properties of black holes, for the foreseeable future that visit to the dinosaurs will have to stay in the realm of fantasy.

Originally published on https://www.astronomy.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, December 21st, 2024)

"WHAT IS OUR UNIVERSE SURROUNDED BY??"

[brailsthesmolgurl]

'BLIND' DATE

Preview: After the end of a situationship, you had mustered up the courage to go out on a blind date to finally settle down. But what if, your date happens to be the guy you were in a relationship with?!

Warnings: Angst that is gonna hurt you in your meow meow, Fluff that shall heal the hurt in your meow meow. Mild-implied smexy scenes.

Divider is credited here!

Staring at your own reflection in the mirror, you utilised your 20/20 vision to scan every part of your body, to ensure that you look the best you had been since the last parting with Rafayel. Yes, y/n is finally ready to crawl out of her wailing dungeon to go on a date with a potential boyfriend. A guy whom you had met on some dating website--that you had downloaded out of the blue--had asked you out on a date.

Your gaze paused at your wrist, the bangle that wrapped loosely around your wrists casted a frown on your face. There is no way you are going to wear something your supposed-ex had given to you a long time ago. You see, Rafayel and you had never been exclusive anyways, although a huge part of you wished that the both of you would gravitate towards being more than friends.

But that wish of yours simply stayed as a wish, till the day it was crushed by Rafayel telling you that he does not see himself in relationships due to how demanding he can be in one; be it physical or mental. He clearly has a reason of his own but you could not seem to see it from his two sense and so, a stupid argument erupted which led you to your confession and with him standing in shocked. However, he decided to add fuel to the fire and dismissed your liking towards him and off you went. Not even turning your head back at once.

It has been months from then, no form of contact was initiated between the both of you. Mostly you blocking him off of your social media and contact lists and beelining only on your own self-recovery. Life was pretty banal for you till you stumbled upon this user on your dating app, who is in search of a partner. This app only allows you to get to know the person via texting, all of their information such as gender, MBTI, Blood Type, Likes and Dislikes etc were shown except for their looks and name. It is an app that prides itself on making matches purely based off of one's personality rather than looks.

Perhaps, this is a fresh start for you. The guy you had been chatting with so far has left a good impression with you, sharing same perspectives, telling humourless dad jokes (that you sadly fell for all the time, smiling behind the screen like a fool), flirtatious and incredulously charming. For a glimpse, you thought it was Rafayel given the similarities of their spelling errors in their texts yet you figured well enough that this may not be the same guy afterall since this one is searching for a serious relationship. Flirtatious texts do not die off easily as one may think and this situationship of yours with this mysterious man named ‘Turtleboi’ had fluorished so much within the span of a few months that it got you to thoroughly consider going out to meet him.

Flashing back to the texts where he had asked you out on a date, you could not help but to blush at the thought of it. The way he proposed for a date was exactly how you figured, or wished Rafayel would have done it to you and it goes something like this:

𝗦𝗼, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘂𝗽𝗰𝘂𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗮𝘆.

𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗹𝗲.

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲. 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂??

𝗔 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸?

�� 𝗯𝗲𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿, 𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗼𝗰𝗰𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀! 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗳𝗮𝘀𝘁, 𝗹𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗵, 𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿, 𝘁𝗲𝗮 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴!

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬. 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲.

𝗢𝗵 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆, 𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀.

Your hands would not stop trembling, the atmosphere of the fine dining restaurant eerily colder than ever. It was however, a restaurant that you would never step foot into given its prestige. Not that you have the sort of funds to spend it on fresh seafood here when bulk, half-par seafood you can purchase from any supermarkets is a huge bang to your buck. Maybe it is the way the lights barely glowed in this private room as well, causing the velvet scarlet walls to take form of the insides of a belly, enveloping you within its grasp and that is the moment you know that you are way too nervous for a date as such.

You fumbled with your fingers, dazing off with your eyes trained on your bodycon dress as you stayed sat on your plush dining seat. The restaurant should be sued for having such comfortable seats as you might actually consider stopping by just to nap on the seats rather than have a meal here. With you being such a nervous wreck, your last bit of conscience took over and you started to grab your clutch, already aiming to leave at the very last minute before you are about to meet this guy.

Your conscience speaks of your deepest insecurities and you know why you would want to back out at the last moment. Your insecurities are consuming you at this very moment. Maybe you did not have the adequate amount of time to heal from Rafayel’s rejection and it led you to believe that you probably should not be in a a relationship until the day you can forget about Rafayel. You got up and made your way towards the door only for it to be swung open in front of you and your eyes widened in shock, fascination, horror, and all kinds of emotions that you had never felt before. But most likely had gotten it bottled up, sealed closed and stuffed into the darkest corners of your memory closet.

“IT’S YOU?!” You could not help the rise of volume in your voice, the scrunched eyebrows of frustration, the gritting of teeth that tightened your jaw, the heartbeat that you could only achieve after a marathon and your trembling hands that would very much like to cross jab towards his face. Rafayel’s handsome face. His nebulic eyes formed beads on his pinched face, question marks littered all over his face, his form a bit more frail than you had last remembered but he still is looking like a living, breathing art piece. And you curse yourself for that thought despite your current state.

“I guess it is me.” The artist recollected himself, readjusting the flaps of his blazer and he stood up straight again, his facial features setting back to their own neutral position again. Now he looks like those marble statues of famous people, not smiling, but just introductory. He gestured at the room and you sighed, knowing that it would be even more rude to walk out now so you turned and sat back at your seat. “You look nice today, y/n.”

Your silence and ennui attitude made it clear that you did not want to be anywhere near him and he was quick to read the room, choosing to take the seat right next to you when the table can fit up to 15 guests and the most ideal seat would be the furthest one away from you. “Let’s get this over with.” You avoided his gaze when you spoke. Being enthralled with his beauty is the last thing you wish for right now, let alone being in a room with him.

“Alright then, don’t mind me treating this like an actual date then.” He shrugged off his blazer, revealing the formal white formal button-up shirt beneath and his slender digits went up to unbutton the top two buttons, revealing more of his Adam's apple. Damn. "It is a fair night to be acquainted by you Miss Y/n. I hope this dinner shall not disappoint you in considering me to be your boyfriend."

How did you not realised? No, how did you not trust your own gut? The nonchalance, the flirts, the typos, it was all pointing towards Rafayel but why did you not buy it? "What made you changed your mind about being in a relationship Rafayel?" You finally lifted your head off of the floor, but was only able to look at his Adam's apple as you spoke. Damn.

"You know." Rafayel uncorked the bottle of champagne and started pouring it into the champagne flutes. The gold liquid sloshed around as it got emptied from the bottle, almost sparkling under the shine of the chandelier. "It was a bit of a brutal brulesque for my mind. I had to strip down what I had fundamentally believed in, set away my ego for a while to give whatever a relationship is, a try it deserves."

Your eyes blinked rapidly a few times and you silently thanked him as he passed you the champagne flute. It smelled of honeysuckle, with a mixture of grapefruit and lychee. It is your first time drinking a champagne afterall. "Why did you consider it only after I had left?" You took a small sip, the cold liquid kisses your lips before gliding down your throat and leaving a sweet and fruity trail in its wake.

The champagne in Rafayel's flute failed to meet his lips as he drew back his arms in midair to answer your question, his eyes lost a bit of a glimmer when he reminisced the bitter thought. The expensive stalk twirled between his thumb and index finger, his gaze following the tiny movements. "Maybe, I wanted to try it with you instead." He was cool-headed when he spoke, the sweetness of the champagne may not even be a cure to the taste of bile he is feeling in his thorax. "I got the app because I figured maybe I could try it on some nobody before I get to you finally."

"So...you wanted to try it with someone you barely knew?" Your eyebrows frowned, just like your lips and you caught his eyes, which were already trained on you. It has been quite a while since you had seen a pair of eyes so beautiful. The last you recalled a pair of great colours would be an old lady whom sat down to have a chat with you while you were enjoying the sunset by the park. You remembered her eyes clearly, both sparkled a close resemblance to amethyst stones. Perhaps, a swatch of pink would be more of a familiar gaze. And now you are met with those familiar windows of one's soul.

"You could put it that way, but I was only prepping myself for you." He cleared his throat and finally drank, downing his drink in one go and refilling it almost immediately. Although looking nonchalant, the man cursed himself for not pacing his words well.

"And you thought breaking someone's heart for a stupid experiment of yours is a great idea?" You voiced in bruquesness, reproachful even. "I think I should leave." You pushed your chair back, the carpeted floors silenced the protesting screeches of the heavy chair. Snagging your clutch off of the chair, you turned towards the door and careened over to the exit.

A strong grip settled onto your wrist and you were tugged back in an instant. Rafayel was up and off of his seat, holding onto your wrist and making use of his larger body to entrap you against the wall. Your height only allows you to extend all the way to his collarbone. His cologne ambushed you as well, a waft of sea salt and bergamot. His signature scent. You snapped yourself back to reality by chewing onto the insides of your cheek, nagging yourself to not be tempted. "Who said I was going to break their heart hmm?"

"It's not like you get to know who is behind the texts on that stupid dating app." Your face reddened, the warmth of it easily being the heater to warm up the chilled room. "All the more reason for you to just settle temporarily and move on if things don't go your way." His other hand snaked around behind your back, his touch blazing a hot track against your covered skin. Your bodycon dress not exactly the thickest material to fend off physical touches. He wrapped his arm around the lower of your back and pushed you further up against the wall and you gasped when his nose tip came in contact with the top of your head.

"I would not do that, because I chose wisely." You can feel his arm tightened his grip around you and he pulled back slightly, the chandelier's glow formed a soft outline for his figure. "And I had a strong hunch, the person I am interested in, is you." The hand that was previously holding your wrist, came to pepper your cheek with featherlight touches. You looked like a porcelain doll to him, too hard of a touch and you might just crumbled, like how you did in front of him last time. Your abjection made his heart ached and hence the mindset change.

The tips of both of your noses touched as he lowered himself a little, a gesture he usually do when he hugs you last time in respect of your smaller size. It was adorable till it lasted, but now, in this moment, it still is an adorable detail that does not go amiss. "How...did you knew...it was me?" Your curiosity got the best of you, and you just got to be greedy and to sought for the answer. "There are just as many other candidates out there, that could be me."

"The story you told me of the turtle." His eyes wandered, from your left eye to your right, then down to your lips and back up again. He is using the triangle method, yes. "I had never told anyone other than you and Thomas, and my aunt who has been with me for as long as I could remember." His username 'Turtleboi' was what prompted you to narrate a story to the anonymous fellow about how a 'guy friend' of yours befriended a turtle during one of his sea adventures. The intricate details and all were told as how you remembered Rafayel reciting them to you. So, that was what sold you off apparently.

You could feel your weight started to shift, the embarassment-o-meter going past its threshold when you realised that Rafayel has gotten you wrapped around his fingers. You wanted to scamper with your tail, or head, buried in between your legs but with your current position, it seemed impossible to escape. "I...I just didn't thought you would--"

"I love you y/n." Interrupted by the man, you felt a finger lifted your chin up and a pair of soft, pillowy lips touched your lips. Your very first kiss, taken in a fine dining seafood restaurant, by a man who had rejected you but oddly rejoiced with you again via a dating app. The kiss ended when you were about to close your eyes and you see Rafayel leaning back slightly, Adam's Apple bobbed once while he gulped down what is possibly nervousness of his own. His diffidence disappeared alongside his gulp and he smiled at you. "This relationship deserves to be given a chance, yeah?"

The sincerity his gaze holds got you good. You smoothed your hands up his taut chest, feeling his pectorals beneath your touch and you locked eyes with him, a smile of solace settled on your lips. "I forgive you Rafayel. And...I love you too." The both of you were leaning in for another kiss before the door opened with a thud and startled the both of you, causing Rafayel to pull you into his arms tightly, shielding you away from any potential threats but the young waiter stood in the doorway, a tray held in front of him, ready to serve the appetiser.

"You may come back later." Rafayel was quick to dismiss the tomato-faced waiter while rubbing small soothing circles on your back as your cheeks laid dormant on his chest. Once the door closed with a thud, Rafayel turned back to you, and lifted your chin once again. "Now, let's not let someone else ruin our relationship yeah?" And he presses his lips onto you again.

A beautiful idea from one of my readers and also a writer whom I look up to greatly. Thanks for requesting me to write this, I had fun burning some of the midnight oil to finish this piece @xvysarene <3! Do support her works as well!

[trenchcoatimpala]

The Only Thing Left

Read below or on ao3

Castiel hadn’t expected it to end like this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, and yet here he was, standing on top of fresh dirt, staring at a headstone that bore the name: Dean Winchester. It didn’t seem real. 

“You gonna be okay?” Sam asked from where he stood next to Castiel; his voice was raw with grief.

“No.” There was no use in lying. 

Sam simply nodded, his breath billowing in the cold December air. “Yeah. Me either.”

“Yes, you will,” Castiel said. It was fact. Sam would never forget but he would move on; live. 

Castiel was an ancient being, an angel born before the creation of Earth itself. He had nothing to move on for, no day to day to find a way through. He could spend eternity here, in this graveyard, where Dean’s body decayed with rot below his feet; where he wished he could crawl into Dean’s bones and stitch him back together as he’d done once before. Of course, he couldn’t do that. Dean was dead for good and Castiel had no way of reaching him, of ever seeing him again. 

In order to defeat Chuck, Castiel had been granted his powers back in full force, but the cost was that he could never return to Heaven. He’d meddled too much in Heaven’s affairs and the angels that were left were tired of it. But then Dean had died and Castiel realized that Dean would go to Heaven, where he belonged, where he’d always belonged, because he was good and he was kind, and Hell never should have held such a beautiful soul in its decaying hands in the first place.

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to let Sam burn Dean’s bones; Heaven wasn’t going to let Dean come back in any way, there was truly no need. Sam had been wise enough not to fight him on it and so Castiel had picked out Dean’s coffin and arranged Dean’s body with precious care. Dean looked like he was sleeping, his expression calm and devoid of all of the horrible things he often wore under a mask. His laugh lines looked deeper in death, more worn, like they were tallies of life’s good moments, which Castiel knew were truly rare. Now, Dean lay under six feet of dirt, where those lines would fade as time moved on without him. The world without Dean in it seemed like no world at all. 

Sam sniffed beside him, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “I think I’m gonna head out. You coming?”

Castiel continued to stare at Dean’s headstone, his feet rooted to the spot. He didn’t want to leave Dean’s side ever again. “No.”

Sam sighed sadly. “Okay, man. Just… the bunker is open to you whenever you wanna drop by.”

“Thank you.”

He didn’t watch Sam leave, barely heard his footsteps trail away. 

Dean Winchester

1979-2020

It was too simple, but there wasn’t enough space on a single grave to list all the wonderful things about the man buried beneath it. So, Castiel stood there and began to list them into open air. All of the things he wished Dean had seen in himself. His love for his family and the world– and his passion just the same. The way he ate his food like each time was better than the last; how he insisted on cooking for everyone, even Castiel himself who didn’t eat, and how he took pride in it. The love and care he showed his car. His obsession with classic rock, that had turned endearing the longer Castiel had grown to know him. His sometimes vulgar and colorful language. The way he teased him and Sam with love in his eyes and a playful smirk on his lips. The way he’d talk along with the awful cowboy movies Castiel was forced to endure, doing his best impressions of the characters or laughing along to something they said.

Castiel wished he could’ve bottled Dean’s laugh. The sound of it was the best thing he’d ever heard in all of his time in existence, he was sure of it. 

He continued his list as the sun rose and set, continued it through the next few days and weeks. Sam came and went and Castiel stayed. Time crept by in intervals he was hardly aware of. Snow fell around him and he only noticed when the snowflakes began to pile up on top of Dean’s grave. The first time he moved it was to brush that pile of snow away, to keep Dean’s name legible, but the snow was falling heavily and Castiel couldn’t keep up. 

He moved behind Dean’s grave and sat down in the snow. His wings unfurled from his back and he brought them forward, wrapping them around the headstone, protecting it from the elements. His forehead came to rest on the cold stone and he waited out the storm just like that, as more and more snow piled up around him, covering him in white, the purest color in the universe; the color of Dean’s soul. 

One day, Sam stopped coming. Castiel supposed he’d been getting older, though he hadn’t really taken the time to notice just how much older. It was when Eileen hobbled up to him one day with gray in her hair and lines on her face (that Castiel didn’t remember being there before) and told him that Sam had died that he realized for the first time just how long he must’ve been standing guard over Dean’s grave. 

Eileen never came back after that day. 

The Earth continued to spin. 

Time was so insequential, and yet Dean had not had enough of it. Castiel mourned his lost years, all the love he could’ve shown to so many more people. He mourned them, too; the people who never got to know Dean. He mourned Sam once it truly sunk in that he was gone. 

Sam used to sit with Castiel for hours, bring a drink to share and regale him with stories of Dean when he was a kid. Castiel hadn’t really said anything during Sam’s visits, too lost in his own thoughts, but now that Sam was truly gone, he found himself missing him. 

Come to think of it, all the others were starting to stop coming too. Jody, Donna, Garth; everyone. Claire came by when she could, but she too was growing older, gray streaks peaking through blonde. She’d leave flowers; once she left a mini-golf ball, Castiel didn’t understand but he didn’t ask.

“You’re really never gonna leave him, are you?” she said in a voice that didn’t sound like the little girl he’d torn a father away from. She was so grown up now, so sure of herself, so kind. So like Dean. 

“Never,” Castiel answered softly. 

When Claire didn’t return, Castiel began to realize that maybe he should continue his watch in a plane of existence unseeable to the human eye. People had tried to talk to him since he’d started his vigil, but he’d always waved them away and ignored their questions. They didn’t matter. 

For the first time, eternity looked daunting. 

He would sometimes appear at night, just to prove to himself that he wasn’t becoming a ghost, but eventually he stopped doing that, too– well, almost stopped. He would appear to the select few; to the children. The ones who would come up to the grave that was as pristine as the day it was put in the ground and would whisper Dean’s name aloud. 

Their parents would tell them the legend of a man who was seen in the graveyard, watching over this singular grave. They would talk of the fresh green grass that Castiel grew for Dean in the summer, the sprinkling of leaves he’d let dust around the base in autumn, the snow he would let fall around the grave but not on it in winter, and the little flowers that he would guide to the sunlight in the spring. 

When they turned to walk away, Castiel would appear. The children would look back and he would offer them a smile before disappearing in the wake of their shocked expressions, tugging on their parents’ hands as they tried to explain what they’d seen. 

There were of course the teenagers who wanted to see what made Dean’s grave so special; the ones who came with sledgehammers and pickaxes. Castiel would call thunder and lightning from the sky, allowing his wings to be the only thing to penetrate their plane, sending them flying with a flick of his unseen hand. They never came back and word traveled quickly not to try and rip the grave from the ground.

To the lonely kids who came to the graveyard for peace and quiet, or to gain inspiration for novels or art, Castiel would let them approach Dean’s final resting place. Some of them would whisper soft hello’s, others would sit down cross-legged with an open sketchbook or gently trace Dean’s name with their fingertips, mouthing his name out loud for what must be the first time in centuries. If they were truly kind souls, Castiel would appear to them. 

When their shock subsided, and assuming they stayed, they would listen to him tell the story of Dean Winchester. Once, the teen he’d been telling his tale to, rested a warm hand on his arm and gave him a teary smile. “I’m sorry you were left to love him like this.”

Castiel had shaken away the gentle pity. “Loving him like this is better than not being given the gift of loving him at all.”

“Love is the longest form of suffering,” the kid had replied, and Castiel had been surprised at how right they were.

More and more time came and went. A book had been written about him, The Moonlight Angel, it had been called. Castiel had quirked a small smile at that; it was fitting. 

It was when she came that everything changed. She was too young to be out on her own and yet here she was. Castiel watched her approach and was surprised when she didn’t look at the grave, instead she came to stand beside him, the sunlight catching the green of her eyes, Dean’s green, as she looked up at him.

“He says you can rest now,” she said. 

Castiel blinked at her. “What?” 

“He says you can rest now,” she repeated. “He says it’s okay.”

“Who?” Castiel choked on the word.

The little girl giggled. She couldn’t be older than ten. “Dean, of course.”

Castiel felt many emotions crowd him at once, disbelief being the first and hope being the last. “You’ve talked to him?” he asked in a whisper.

“More like just listened.”

Castiel dropped to his knees. Dean had been watching him the whole time. Dean had been here the whole time and he hadn’t known. The sun suddenly seemed brighter, the grass greener, the birdsong less melancholy.  

“He says you should ‘stop hangin’ around my grave like a damn widower and go do a miracle or somethin’’. I think you should listen to him.”

Castiel laughed. It rumbled from his throat in an unpracticed wheeze, but it was a laugh nonetheless. And then the tears began to fall, because this little girl, whoever she was, had just allowed him to hear Dean’s voice again, the cadence of it, the gruff fondness and exasperation. He had missed it so dearly. His grave was the only thing he had left of Dean, but now he had this. 

The little girl patted his back as he cried, standing with him until the tears subside and he could offer her a raw and raspy, “Thank you.”

The girl smiled at him; her two front teeth were missing. “Get on with your life, Castiel. It’s time you stopped being shackled to this grave. Grief is no friend.”

She was right, of course. He should not become a gargoyle against gray skies. Slowly, he rose to his feet and placed his hand on Dean’s headstone. “I love you.” He would never stop. 

Beside him, the girl closed her eyes, her smile widening before she opened them again. “He says he loves you too.” Castiel let out a deep sigh, relief and acceptance mingled with profound happiness at those words. The girl offered him her hand and he took it, allowing her to lead him away from the graveyard.

Time continued to wage its war, turning many graves to dust. Dean’s, too, aged slowly. Lichen and moss covered it like a curtain, the top began to chip away as it was battered by the elements, but the stone never fully crumbled. Castiel doesn’t have the heart to let it. He can't stay away forever. No, Dean’s name would forever remain on the stone, for Castiel could never truly abandon his post. After all, it’s what he was best at: watching over Dean Winchester. 

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