The ‘Marvel Cinematic Universe’ Chronological Timeline

James Buysen:

As anyone who keeps an eye on my blog would know; I am a big superhero fan. Especially of Marvel’s work.

Originally posted on Geekritique:

The MCU is a constantly moving, constantly turning, evolving, breathing entity of a machine. It’s the grand idea that, after selling their big name franchises (Spider-Man, X-Men, Fantastic Four) to other companies, Marvel would be left to make films with all their “lesser” characters, but that they’d do so in a way that fans could see they shared a unique universe. And after a few films (Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 2), audiences did begin to see a correlated universe unfolding – the Marvel Cinematic Universe. After a few more years and 2 films later, Marvel (and Disney, who bought them out) went for gold, bringing 4 big tentpole franchises onto the screen at once in The Avengers. Now with a few more film sequel successes to their name, multiple short “One Shots”, a primetime tv presence, and a plethora of other projects in development or in the…

View original 2,270 more words

Writing prompt: Last Survivors

“I wouldn’t understand?” he swung again but this time pulling back inches from the man’s face. “Damn right I wouldn’t understand… before all this happened; I had a family, a wife, two children… a beautiful family.

It has been a while since I have done one of these. So, I am setting myself the challenge once again. I have chosen a couple of writing prompts that I will try and weave into a short story that I hope you enjoy.

After an alien invasion destroys the Earth, a handful of survivors find that a former NASA scientist is still alive. The man from NASA operated the most powerful telescope in the world and must have seen the aliens coming, but he chose not to warn anyone. When asked, he refuses to say why he didn’t give a warning, telling them they “just wouldn’t understand.” The survivors decide to torture him until he gives up his secret. []

 “You just wouldn’t understand.” Tied to a chair and beaten beyond recognition the small beady eyed man slumped in his chair with his head hung low. His NASA uniform soaked in his own blood and torn almost beyond recognition; at one point in time he had been a prominent scientist in NASA’s deep space research program.

“I wouldn’t understand?” he swung again but this time pulling back inches from the man’s face. “Damn right I wouldn’t understand… before all this happened; I had a family, a wife, two children… a beautiful family. Marcus over here was on his way home from work to see his pregnant wife. And Alice, she had just flown interstate for a business trip; she had to leave her family at home.” He stepped back and turned to his two friends.

“This is bigger than you.”

“Damn right it’s bigger!” clenching his fists; he strained to find a reason not to throw another punch. “There’s nothing left! It’s all been wiped out. They walk around out there like this is their planet and all you…”

“Drake, he’s not worth it. Let’s just cut him loose and get out of here.” Marcus spoke up from the back of the room; a monster of a man, almost 7 feet tall and built like an ox. He carried a large alien blaster under one arm, pulled single handedly from a patrol drone and modified for portability. Across his back was a sheathed medieval long sword.

“No.” Drake drew a deep breath and looked back at the sorry excuse for a human being that sat before them. “He’ll be coming with us.”

“You’re making a mistake. He’s only going to slow us down.” Marcus was always the first to vocalize his disapproval for a bad idea.

“Perhaps… but we haven’t encountered another living soul in months. He knows something he isn’t telling us.”

Both Marcus and Alice remained silent.

“Get him ready to move; Marcus he will be travelling with you. Alice you will take the rear. There will be a way out through the old sewerage tunnels. You know the drill.”

Marcus picked up the small man, easily swinging him over his shoulder.

“On my count,” the small group of four surrounded the door to the outside world, waiting for Drake’s signal. They took one last look at the ruins that lay behind them; the crumbling remains of a hotel lobby, one of the few things to still remain after the attack. “3…” there was silence “2…” guns were raised and with fingers on triggers “GO!”

They exploded from the doors of the hotel to be met by harsh winds and an unforgiving sun. Everything had been decimated; what was once a thriving city had become an unlivable wasteland threatened to be consumed by the growing desert.

Drake led the way, closely followed by Drake and Alice they moved fast. He followed their footsteps back to a collapsed subway entrance nearby. The debris sheltering their escape, they had learnt to be over cautious in this new landscape.

There was little they could do to stand against the might of an entire alien civilization; but they would never be content to lie down and die. All their hard work and sacrifice may now pay off; they may finally get the answers they need.

Scott ‘Grimm’ Grafter (part 2)

Out of the darkness burst a giant beast; nothing quite like those of flesh and blood. Its teeth gnashed out thirsting for blood as it thundered down the street towards Scott.

A beast of the shadows, it lurched forth propelled by four powerful legs. Scott braced himself in the sights of the beast; its teeth and claws thrashed wildly for the taste of flesh. The scars that covered his back seemed to glow in the light of the moon, spreading like cracks through the earth they grew; covering his entire body. These were the marks of a Grimm.

Teeth chomped at the air longing for the taste of immortal flesh.

“FRANK!” – Hands locked on teeth as the beast crashed upon Scott’s figure. Muscled tensed and teeth grit he stood his ground, the monstrous beast twisted and folded as it was forced to a halt. Over a ton of muscle and bone forced to the ground by a single man. The beast’s jaws thrashed wildly, unable to clamp down on Scott’s grasp.

Scott had hoped Frank would yield without a fight. Souls that challenge a Grimm are doomed to an eternity of damnation. It is a Grimm’s first priority to hunt and return all souls that have run on their deal before they are mutated into beasts of the darkness. A mutated soul is deemed to be unfit and executed on sight or restrained for collection. A Grimm new little beyond this and that’s the way it was to be; information was dangerous.

Scott drew back and fist and slammed it into the lower jaw of the beast, shattering bone like glass with immense force.

With a wild swing the beast threw Scott clear; allowing it time to breathe and retake its feet. Its jaw hung loosely on from its head, connected by nothing but skin and muscle.

 Scott pulled himself to his feet, watching the beast stamp and shake its head. He saw its jaw move, but not hanging like it had; it looked to crawl. As though there were bugs under its skin…

Read intro and part 1 to catch up if you have not already.

It has been a while since I have posted here… quite saddening when I think about it. I have been progressing slowly on my blog but have sat on this piece for almost 2 months without posting it. (What’s that about?)

Between work and band I plan to try and divert my time spent wasted on social media back to where it should be spent. (writing my novel and maintaining the blog I started)

I hope some of you will leave a comment below.

Grimm: Guardsmen of The Veil

The Veil had always been thin in our small corner of the universe. No one knew what caused it; it was just the way things were. Life and Death did not obey the regular rules. It often brought chaos upon us; some had learnt to thrive on it though. What should have been a fragile existence had become a commodity.

There are tales of a time before all this; tales of an eternal death. For some, it may seem like a sad existence. But those who do not live under the constant threat of an end… will never appreciate the life they have been given.

People squander their lives on things that bare no importance; trading selfish gains for a price few understand. A life binding contract…

When it comes time to pay up, the truly stupid will run. As they squandered their lives; they squander their gifts. Realizing all too late what they have given up. It is up to the Grimm to collect those souls that choose to run from their payment.

The Grimm… truly dammed souls; gate keepers and guardsman to the other side.

I keep talking/thinking about a regular series for this blog instead of the bits and pieces I continually spit out; something fuller that will draw people to keep coming back. After having a week off and being unable to update whilst I looked out over the beach and got way to intoxicated most nights… I scribbled down a few pages of ideas that were inspired by my last couple of posts and have finally got the story I wanted.

This is a little reflection on the world to set the scene for the story to come.

More updates soon!

Scott ‘Grimm’ Grafter (part 1)

It was a dark and quiet night as the street lights cast their untrusting shadows through the streets of a small town; far from the beaten track, rarely shown on many maps. The moon hid behind a cloudy midnight sky. The air stood still, whilst the residents slept safely in their beds.

Scott had arrived on his rumbling Harley Davidson, disturbing the quiet. The presence of a late night visitor was an unseen event in the town of Maverden.

Scott Grafter was not from this part of the country; he had been born a city kid. His new line of work though, took him all across the country. It was a solitary job, but he was good at it and he was well respected amongst his superiors. There was nothing else he had ever been so successful at. It was that success which he truly enjoyed more than anything.

Boom! He was thrown from his bike in a thundering crash; sent flying through the window of a local store. His body lay still for several minutes before he pulled himself to his feet. Bar a few scrapes he was completely unharmed.

“Dammit!” his bike now lay mangled beyond repair in the gutter. “I knew I’d regret that.” He dusted off his black leather jacket and stepped out onto the street.

The street was once again silent. Populated only by the presence of one man, he continued to walk the way he had been headed; towards the town centre. As he walked; he removed his leather jacket and shirt, laying them across a street bench. His back and chest bore deep scars both new and old. It was as though someone had taken to him with a whip as punishment for a severe crime.

Scott felt the temperature in the street begin to drop; slowly he could see his own breath as it froze mid air.

“The tricks aren’t going to work on me Frank. Just give yourself up.” He continued to walk. “This will be a lot easier for both of us.” The street remained silent.

Just a short post to begin; a teaser of the story to come. Something different to what I am writing in my novel to help me keep the ideas disconnected.

I have a story planned in my head that I will sit down and plan out at some point to turn this into a regular posting. Hopefully it is something you are interested to read more of.

To write or not to write?

Should you really be writing when the inspiration just isn’t there? Is it okay to write utter garbage?

Those are the questions I have been asking myself for the last few days; ever since I wrote the piece of writing below. I’m not saying it’s bad, just that it’s not what I have come to expect from myself.

 “I turn 21 tomorrow, the day I can officially consider myself an adult. My awkward teen years are behind me, I’m going to make something of myself… oh, who am I kidding? Look at me. I’m pathetic. I’ve got no friends, my parents are ashamed of me, I’m flunking all my classes at Uni. In ten years time I’m still going to be living the same dead end life I am now.”

                Story of my life really; Scott Grafter the outcast and failure, no friends and nothing to live for. What I wouldn’t give… just to do something with my life.


As Scott slept that night he was unaware of the cost that wish could bring him, some deals just aren’t worth the price. But the haze of youth can cloud the judgment of the desperate. Whilst Scott slept he was unaware of the choice he was about to be given.

                “Mr. Grafter?” only a few seconds ago he had laid his head down onto his pillow. “Over here Mr. Grafter.” He could feel the rough surface of an asphalt road beneath his feet. His spun around to see where the voice had come from; he stood at the centre of the crossroad outside his house. Opposite him stood the silhouette of a man hidden in the shade cast by a street light on an old oak tree. “Do you know where we are Mr. Grafter?”

                Scott looked around; he was clearly no longer in the bed in which he had fallen asleep. He was not even in his room for that matter. “We are on the street outside my house.”

                “That is correct Mr. Grafter.” Scott eyed the silhouette warily. “It’s your birthday tomorrow isn’t it?” The man looked down at his wrist, “twenty three minutes to be exact…”

                Scott didn’t speak; this was possibly the strangest dream he had ever had. “Sorry, how rude of me, I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Alistair.” He stepped from the shadows to reveal himself, an average height man dressed in a cheap dinner suit. Cleanly shaven and short cut hair; he had the air of a door to door salesman who sold useless ‘necessities’.

                “This is a dream isn’t it?” Scott pinched himself with no effect.

                “On the contrary, this is very real Mr. Grafter. I mean, this is all in your head but you can be assured this is far from a dream.” Alistair offered a hand to Scott.

                Scott looked at him for a moment and then at his hand, he did not move. “Very smart Mr. Grafter, you do not know me, how could you trust me. Perhaps we need to find some common ground?” still Scott remained quiet. “Do you love your parents Mt. Grafter?”

                Suddenly he had taken Scott’s interest, where was he leading with this? For a moment he thought the man’s eyes had flashed a bright pearlescent white, almost demonic.

                “Of course you do what a stupid question. What if I told you, you could save them?”

                “What is that meant to mean?” Scott had started to fidget now.

                “Earlier tonight your mother forgot to turn off the oven… it’s still on right now; a very easy mistake to make.” Scott eyed the house, he made to move but found his body frozen stiff. “Hold on Mr. Grafter, your forgetting something. We are still in your head.”

                “Let me go.”

                “I can’t do that.” His tone changed, he had suddenly become very stern. “Even as we speak it is too late, too late for you, too late for them. I can give you a choice though.”

                Scott tried with all his might to move, to get free of the grip on him. “Why should I believe you?”

                “You smell that?” It was the smell of smoke, Scott could smell it strongly but he still didn’t trust it. “You can wake up now and deal with the consequences of your choice…” The windows in his house as it stood there behind Alistair lit up in a blaze of fire. “Or you can make another choice. You can save them, and in return you will work for me. Your life will have a purpose.”

                Was that it? What did he have to lose?


If only it had been so simple, he had shook Alistair’s hand that night and his life had changed forever. He had awoken in a burning house and dragged his parent’s unconscious bodies from the flames. He was made a hero. His face was all over the TV for weeks. Never had he felt so loved by his parents and the people around him.

                At the end of the second week though, Alistair came to him again. It was time for him to hold up his end of the bargain. He would become a Grimm; a soldier of the Covenant. For eternity his soul would be held until his dept was deemed repaid.

                For months he wore the price of his parents lives; until he learned not all had gone so well for them. Whilst he hunted souls that had run from their deals; his parents had died in a fiery car crash. He had sacrificed his soul for them, only to have them taken from him months later. And then he learned the worst part… a soul saved through the selfishness of another would be condemned to an eternity in the pits of hell.

                He had not asked any questions; he had been promised a purpose in life, a chance to be more then what he saw in himself. Without thinking about the cost he had taken the reward, and it was only temporary. It was snatched from his grasp like it had never been his at all.


“You realize that if you do this, you will be hunted as a traitor and a rogue? It is forbidden for a Grimm to peak through the veil.” Scott had managed to track down a highly reputable Psychic who was reported to have a direct line to the souls of the damned.

“They are there because I put them there. If there is even a chance I can save them from the fate I have committed them to, then I owe it to them to do just that.” She closed her eyes and took a hold of his hands as they sat across the table from each other.

If you have gotten to the bottom of this post then I thank you. And I would like to ask you; is this utter garbage? Is it okay to write utter garbage sometimes? How do you get through those lapses in inspiration and motivation?

This weekend I have come up with ideas for some short stories that I look forward to writing in between working on my novel. I also have an idea for a series of posts inspired by the short story above.

Let me know your thoughts, I love to read them.

Not enough time in the day

It’s so hectic this time of year. I just wish it would stop; I wish everyone would stop and just slow down. Christmas should be a time to be spent with your family. Instead we all spending it running around headless buying gifts for people when we should instead be enjoying the things that inspire us to get out our wallets.

I’m not a big supporter of a Christmas full of gifts (of course I enjoy them). For me Christmas will always be about seeing some part of my extended family that I do not get to see too often. I am more then content to receive nothing for Christmas; these days that money is better off saved or used for more important things.

What is most annoying me now though is the endless amount of over-time I am working and the lack of inspiration and energy I am left with at the end of the day when it comes to writing.

I just want to write.

I want to update this blog more often, and I have several ideas for a new series of blog posts I hope you will enjoy; I just need the time and energy to work my brain. I promise, starting this weekend I will do my best to return to regular blog updates.




When the girl stumbles into your life with eyes that glitter and blood stained lips that demand to be kissed, do not love her; look past the sparkles and shades, the cashmere scarves and stilettos sharp as needlepoint. Do not fall for her innocent smile and demure demeanor, she is not an open book that is safe for you to read. She will trap you with her words and steal the breath from your lungs for comic relief. She will smell like a poisonous flower, sickeningly sweet, and the scent will linger long after she leaves you for another. She will leave them too.”

I highly recommend reading this entire post; a beautifully written piece of writing . Read, enjoy, and learn. Sometimes you should not take things for what they appear to be, or for what you hope they can become. Let your past experiences guide; take a moment to quiet your heart and let your brain speak.

Read the full post

A sample from an old draft.

I was reading through some old backup files, and I found this. No particular reason I’m sharing this part, I don’t have any new ideas for stories at the moment (perhaps I’m not reading enough or watching enough TV).

Freddy had become a product of this new world; they called them ‘Mutants’. They had lived in the shadows side by side, man and mutant for centuries. Most people never knew they existed, they were happy to live there life’s.

People fear what they don’t know… Freddy had always thought that perhaps ignorance really was bliss for some people.

It was in high school she discovered drugs… they made the night terrors disappear. For a while she felt normal. It couldn’t last though, it was an expensive habit to support and it wasn’t long until she began stealing for money. A slippery slope…

The night she was caught… everything changed.

February 1st 2010 she turned 16. Her birthday… the day she was committed to a new state of the art Juvenile Detention Centre in a remote part of Victoria. It became her home for the next 2 years, for better or worse.

It changed her… she cleaned up. For the first time in her life she had real friends, people she could talk to; friends that understood her pain. In time the night terrors stopped, she gained control.

Freddy learnt a lot about herself. Dreams are dangerous things. You can live a lifetime in one night, you can rule the world and burn it to the ground. You can have complete control and none at all. It’s in those dreams when your most afraid and lose all control that you run for your life. But you always know you will wake up.

It had never been a Detention Centre… they were training. Freddy and her new found friends were soldiers; a new weapon for a new world. They taught her to control her powers, to master the ability to walk in another person’s dreams.

I’m writing some more on the novel at the moment, when I’m done I think I’ll do some brainstorming for a new blog post.

We create our own evil (part 3)

I have owed you all this post for a while. These posts, this whole blog in fact has taken a bit of a back seat lately and it really bothers me. It makes me feel uncomfortable when I don’t write.

This will likely end here at part 3… although I think this may be revived in another form at some point. But that would be revealing to much!

If you haven’t already, please read the previous posts in this series:
part 1

part 2

Before their eyes his body visibly transformed, it shrunk in size and shape. As if at will, he had become a different man… creature, entirely different than the one before. He was composed and civilised. He surveyed the men before him, no one moved, no one spoke. Unsure why they were he; why he had been freed, he turned to look at the man responsible.

The tall lanky figure of Fracture still stood next to the glass tube, now a foot taller than the man before him. “What’s your name?” the man spoke. Fracture looked at him for a few moments, unsure if he would end up in the same place as his commander.

“They call me Fracture.” He spoke with a steady, confident tone, although still unsure where this was leading.

“Are you in charge here?”

He thought for a moment… had he not just killed the last man who had admitted to being in charge? Could he trust him? “Yes, I am in charge here. These men followed my orders.”

The man scoffed, he stepped towards Fracture. Before he had moved even a few feet every man in the room had raised his rifle, aimed at his head. Fracture said not a word, he may now be leading the men in his company but they were free men, and they respected him. Unlike the man whose body now lay on the ground in front of them, they would not take a threat on Fracture’s life so lightly.

“Relax,” he raised his hands and stood in place. “They call me Goliath… for rather obvious reasons I suppose; although rather ironic considering my current form.” He reached out with his right hand, a peace offering, a show of trust towards Fracture. “That is a rather useful talent you have yourself there.”

Fracture took the man’s hand, he held firmly with a crushing grip. He wouldn’t show it on his face but Goliath’s grip almost crushed his own. He bit his tongue to prevent a show of weakness, it was clear though; Goliath was warning him, threatening him.

“Get this man some clothes.” They released their handshake to Fracture’s relief. The men lowered their guns as one of them disappeared to scavenge up some suitable clothing.

“What is it that brings you here? What is it that causes you to drag me from my imprisonment?” Goliath spoke not only to the new leader but to the group of men before him.

“There is a warm coming.” A woman’s voice spoke up from the crowd, a sweet southern accent. She moved forward removing a mask to reveal a mane of long silver hair. She had once been a stunningly beautiful woman; burn scars were now visible to a large portion of her body. The entire left hand side of her face had been disfigured. And yet she carried herself with much pride and confidence, as they did to Fracture, the men in the room showed much respect for her. Most would and had put their life on the line to protect her.

“By the end of the year it will be upon us… without an army we will crumble. In the last few years the world has been on a slippery slope, chaos is the only world order. We need men like you to take back control of the chaos. The only way out from this dark cloud is under the control of people who are prepared to do what is required. We live in a world with many powerful enemies, above anything we have seen before.”

Goliath studied her, analysing what she had said. “You have a choice, you can come with us and bring this world what it needs… or you can remain here, you will never leave this room.”

It was a simple choice, Goliath knew even he was no match for the small army that surrounded him.

“Know that if you double cross us, there won’t be any escaping, there won’t be anywhere you can hide from us. Your life will be forfeit the moment you cross that line.”

I don’t get a lot of reader feedback around here (sadly), so if you have taken the time to read these or any of my posts please let me know what you think. Either leave a comment below or visit the ‘About’ link above and email me.

I love to speak to my readers and I love to know what you think.