We’ve got a dude who reincarnates in the Marvel universe (you know, a world of gods, mutants, crises every other day), and what does he do with this golden ticket? Absolutely nothing. No plans, no ambition, no reactions. Not even a lazy “watch from the sidelines” vibe. Just… vibes. Dead, boring, flat vibes.
You give a character Superman-tier powers and throw them into Marvel, and you write 40 chapters of… walking around? Sitting? Bro, he doesn’t want to get rich, doesn’t want to be a hero or a villain, doesn’t want anything. It’s like reading someone’s depressive journal entries masked as a fanfic.
If this was meant to be a slice-of-life, it failed. If it was meant to be a power fantasy, it failed. If it was meant to be anything other than a diary about a bored, tired guy doing nothing—it failed.
I get that the MC is supposed to be lazy. But there’s “laid back,” and then there’s “mentally checked out from life.” This feels less like a story and more like the author projecting some deep burnout onto a Marvel OC with zero direction. Like, at least give us something—chaos in the background, funny commentary, a purpose.
This fic isn’t slow burn—it’s just stalled. Hard pass.