#somehow I end up drawing that angle quite often and I suffer every time

[vhalesa]

Kiiiiith

#mayakuro #kuromaya #revue starlight #saijou claudine #tendou maya #shoujo kageki revue starlight #revstar #yeah it's them!!! #missed drawing them #also this turned out better than expected #someday I'll master the damn half back view of Maya #somehow I end up drawing that angle quite often and I suffer every time

[thetriumphantpanda]

LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fic #Pedro pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike au #pedro characters #pedrostories

[dailyaudiobible]

03/16/2020 DAB Transcript

Numbers 24:1-25:18, Luke 2:1-35, Psalms 59:1-17, Proverbs 11:14

Today is the 16th day of March, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian what a joy it is to be here with you as we get ourselves going into this new week. So, let's continue our journey. We’re moving our way through the book of Numbers and we’re also just getting moved into the gospel of Luke. So, we’re reading from the Message this week. Numbers chapters 24 and 25 today.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the book of Numbers we've had quite the dramatic story unfolding over the last couple of days. The children of Israel have moved north and there's been some battles. They've been attacked, they've been victorious. So, they kind of carved out a little space for them to be in but they're freaking out their neighbors. And, so, the king of Moab, whose name was Balak…and Moab is modern day…the modern-day country of Jordan, at least the area that we’re talking about in this story. And, so, Balak, he's already seen what happened and he can kind of get the idea of what might come next for him and his people if these Israelites aren't stopped. So, he sends a way for this prophetic kind of figure, this person who can bless and curse named Balaam. And from the biblical narrative we see that Balaam hears from God and God tells Balaam when Balak’s people come not to go. And, so, he doesn't go. And, so, the king Balak sends more…more important people to get Balaam and this time God says you can go with them but only say what I tell you to say. This is a super fascinating story because Balaam does go riding on his donkey that he’s had for years. And this is the time that the donkey veers off the path or the donkey just sits down in the middle of the road or the donkey crushes his foot against a wall and he’s beating the donkey until the donkey speaks to him. “What have I ever done to you? Have I ever done anything to deserve this?” And Balaam’s so mad he’s like, “I would kill you if I had a sword”, which I always every year find funny because it’s like, you’re talking to a donkey. Are you…I mean how do you get so mad that you don't realize you’re talking to a donkey? So, there’s this interesting thing that's going on and its bizarre because it's like all Balaam’s doing is obeying God. Why is an angel of the Lord standing in front of the path with a sword that only the donkey can see? What's going on here in this story very quickly becomes about how we try to manipulate situations and try to call it God's will for our lives. So, when Balaam and was first approached to come and curse the Israelites, God spoke to him very clearly, “do not go. Don't go.” When they came back again, God said, “you can go but only say what I tell you to say.” So, this looks like opportunity for Balaam. God wouldn't let him go do the job and get paid the first time, but now He's letting him go, just telling him to only speak what he is told to speak. And so, he's on his way. And then there's this incident with the angel and the donkey three times over. When the donkey asks Balaam why he's being so mean, he reveals his heart, he was embarrassed in front of these important people. So, God is sending Balaam a very strong message. “You might think this is gonna be a big payday. You may think this is gonna be a big moment of honor for you but don't be seduced. Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say anything that you aren't told to say.” And we do this kind of stuff. We’ll ask God for His direction and say, “I only want what you want in my life. I'm tired of all of the messes that I make. I just want to follow the narrow path. Just show me the narrow path.” But we reveal our own hearts and our motivations because there are things that we desire to happen. And when God begins to open those doors we feel like every doors been open and we know the way and we’re just gonna blast through it all, when all God gave Balaam permission to do was go and say what he was told to say. That’s it. So, Balaam gets to Balak and there's some sacrifices and there's some viewing of the camp of the Israelites. And Balaam’s got the message at this point and he goes and hears from God that…that Israel is not gonna be cursed. Israel is only gonna be blessed. So, the king Balak’s like, “let's go to another place and look at them from a different angle”, right? And, so, they do when they make sacrifices and this all happens again. And, so, Balak the king is like. let’s go to another place.” Basically, “let's keep looking at this from different angles until we get the answer that we’re looking for from God.” And then boom, now we’re in the story, now this is our life too because we have a tendency to do the same thing. We want something and God’s saying, “no.” We wait. We look from a different view. God says, “no.” We wait. We look from a different…we’re just looking for the answer that we want. But Balaam had been severely warned about that. And, so, he blessed Israel. And then we exit that story and it seems like we've switched gears because now we’re back in the Israelite camp, and many of the Israelite men were fraternizing with the Midianite women which they were forbidden to do because it was doing exactly what they had been warned against. It was leading them through sex to idolatry, the worship of the false gods of the neighboring countries. And these are the Midianites and not the Moabites so it’s like we’re talking to different…we’re like in it completely different story when apparently, we’re in the same story. Balaam, in the book of Numbers says he's going home. Like, he can only do what God told him to do. He’s going home. He said that from the from the beginning. What it appears that happened after that is that the king of Moab allied himself with the Midianites and hatched this plan to seduce men away through the Midianite women, which is a heck of seductive plot and it was working. Where did that idea come from? Balaam isn't that big of a biblical figure, but he shows up again in the book of Revelation in the letter to Pergamum, the church in Pergamum. And, so, I’m quoting from Revelation here, “there are some among you who hold to the teaching of Balaam who taught Balak to entice the Israelites to sin so that they ate food sacrificed to idols and committed sexual immorality. So, that appears to be the rest of the story. Balaam only spoke what God told him to speak in terms of blessing and cursing. But it seems that as he's leaving, he offered a tip. But before we exit the book of Numbers will find out that things didn't go so well for Balaam after all. He was killed in a battle…a battle with the Midianites. So, there are, you know, it’s a long sprawling story and there are many facets to it and many ways to look at it, that's the nature of the Bible. But fundamentally, I think this story brings front and center into our own lives, our mixed motives and the ways that we try to play both sides of a story sometimes undetected, and the damage that that can do to those around us when we’re not true and the damage that it can ultimately do to our lives because it's not wise.

Prayer:

Father we invite You into that because it hits close to home. We all have areas of our lives where we’ve experienced mixed motivations, conflicts in which we try to participate in the light and the darkness at the same time. And although we may be able to keep up the façade for a while it ends badly every time. it's not true, it's not wise, it's not healthy, it's not godly, it's not holy. And if there's one thing that we’re seeing as we move through the Tora, as we move through the law, it’s that You are holy, and You are drawing Your people into holiness. And, so, we ask Your forgiveness for the way we’ve mishandled our motivations and submit our hearts desires to You. Come Holy Spirit, as we go through this day and bring these things up in our lives as we meditate upon the Scriptures today. Show us the areas that we’re playing in too close to the edge, that we’re running along the cliffs edge and we’re gonna fall off. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the mighty name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website and its home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here as I always say. And it is. So, be sure to stay tuned and stay connected.

Stay connected at the Prayer Wall. Constantly people are asking for prayer. Constantly people are offering prayers. It’s a fantastic resource. Any time that you're feeling like you…you're about to get overwhelmed, you're not alone. There's a way to reach out but one of the ways that kind of brings our equilibrium back in those moments is to realize that we have become very, very self-focused in this because it's painful or it’s difficult. And often when we face outward, when we realize we’re not the only one suffering right now in some way, we’re not the only one struggling somehow in some way. Everybody is struggling in some way all the time. There always challenges. There's always obstacles. So, facing outward and just praying…praying for them, that is so beautiful, so noble, so right, so good. And often it changes the atmosphere in our own lives. It changes the way we’re looking at what's overwhelming us. So, yeah, let's pray for each other and the Prayer Wall is a great place for that. So, check it out.

And there are resources in the Daily Audio Bible Shop for this journey like the Daily Audio Bible Journal and all of the writing utensils that we have. All of these beautiful pencils and all of the paraphernalia just make it…just a loving ritual, something…something that we have and we write down the story of our days even if it's just a paragraph or a couple sentences on some days and pages on other days where we just in our own hand, like not some digital copy, which is fine. I did that for years, but I found like writing things down in my own hand with a pencil I sharpened. I'm taking the time to slow things down and process because life is flying at me and us at warp…there's no way to keep up with it all. So, to almost revolt and go like old tech, old school and go like, I’m gonna sharpen a pencil, I’m gonna sit down here for a few minutes and it’s not gona take me hours. I’m gonna give 10 minutes. I’m gonna give 15 minutes to just slowing things down and processing, like writing it…like writing it out, allowing it to be committed to paper in my own hand and out of me so I’m not carrying it around anymore. And we we begin to see the thread of God's faithfulness as we do that faithfully. All that's available in the Daily Audio Bible Shop, created for this community for exactly this purpose. Everything that we can do to build in all of the rhythms of the daily reading of the word and to strengthen that and make it go deeper in us. That's what we’re trying to do. And, so, these resources are available. Check them out in the Daily Audio Bible Shop.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There’s a link that is on the homepage and my humblest, deepest gratitude for everyone who has ever clicked that link. Thank you. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the given button in the upper right-hand corner. And if you prefer…prefer the mail, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is a number to dial.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

ASM vol 5 #15/816 Thoughts

SPOILERS

Ain’t life funny?

Because I read this issue only an hour or so after issue #14 and most of my problems from issue #14 stand here.

Yet somehow, whether it was the issue or I dunno something else...I enjoyed this much more than last time.

So let me address the negatives first.

The Lizard stuff still stands as overly absurdist for a Spider-Man story. Granted it is alleviated by not having Peter and MJ there for dinner. It’s still dumb seeing a scene out every YA TV drama or whatever play out with Lizard people. Were they not Lizard people though it’d be perfectly decent character drama.

Bachalo’s art. Same complaints as last time except there were points in this issue where I truly couldn’t tell what the hell was happening. At points Black Ant was barely in shot and I couldn’t quite get the angle. The scene where Spider-Man, er...hits (?) Taskmaster is so poorly done I wasn’t sure if he was headbutting him or not and regardless I couldn’t tell what part of Taskmaster’s face I was looking at. Also the linework is often just like soft and I poorly done.

Its just so obvious this was a fill-in job to plug the gap and get the books out on time.

That’s really where my outright negatives end because this is a point that’s sort of bad but also sort of good.

I talked in my last issue post about how the books have recently been recycling art and how it doesn’t jive well when the art styles are so different.

This issue suffers from that a bit on the last page becuse Bachalo’s crappy art is juxtaposed with what is either a very realistic drawing of or an outright photo of New York city and it just looks stupid.

However it’s also used for a page that recycycles old art from the 1960s-1980s. And there it actually works.

I think that is because Bachalo’s art is relatively minimal on that page , the artwork in question is in greyscale and because (unlike with Ottley’s recycled art last issue) the art is so classical that it works it evokes the idea of a truly bygone age. It’s not that Bachalo’s style is clashing with this art it’s that no one draws comics like this anymore so it creates this idea of the past and present being ‘different countries’ as it were.

Other semi-negative. Peter claims he didn’t learn how to be a hero from Uncle Ben but Aunt May which is not strictly true. He learned it really from both of them but his selflessness was definitely more May.

The speech though was over all a wonderful affirmation of Aunt May’s importance to who Peter is, expressed in a way I never really considered before but rings so true!

Aunt May over all is used quite wonderfully here. I’m not going to say Spencer is a great Aunt May writer because he’s not yet hit the heights of JMS or DeMatteis. But he at least can write Aunt May competently and in a way that is devoid of the cliché doddering and overly worrisome old woman of yesteryear nor the ‘I’m so disappointed in you’ nail we’ve been hammering over and over since BND began.

Here Aunt May is not a hyper competent bad ass but is seen embodying her most defining personality trait: caring for others.

Spencer reinstating her role in FEAST is a wonderful direction as that role was one of the many good but bungled ideas of the post-OMD era. A perfect ongoing role for a character like Aunt May...even if it is probably being done just to synch up with the PS4 game. And if you don’t believe me consider that the page immediately after May announces she’s reforming FEAST they have an ad for Spider-Man: City at War #1. Which is...ugh...but still a good role for her and for Randy in fact.

We also have the return of the Ned Leeds clone. And yes I am saying clone because that is exactly what Clone Conspiracy established them as being; they’re not the original characters resurrected and even the issue itself affirms this.*

I do not know what the point of returning Ned Leeds to the cast could be. I think he should remain dead as now between this and Bennett Brant’s return both of the major deaths defining Betty Brant’s life have been semi-undone. What is the point?

At least Peter acted relatively in character regarding Ned’s return. My main interest in that plot point is the potential foreshadowing Ned hinted at. Apparently Betty needs protecting from something but what?

As for the main plot Spider-Man is very much in character in his prioritisation of Aunt May over Rhino, his desperation to save May and his violence towards Taskmaster. Black Ant gets some great lines in at TM’s expense about this too.

The Rhino thing is a mixed bag. I think Rhino and Spider-Man should be on opposing sides 99% of the time but also a Rhino who is more conciliatory towards Spider-Man was something that could have been explored further. At least his reversion to hating him was believable albeit somewhat unoriginal.

Kraven’s plan sounds very interesting even if I think Kraven should go back to being dead like in KLH.

And although I do not like Secret Empire and think Marvel should be ashamed to have done it, I do have to respect Spencer’s raw balls in daring to make major use of continuity from it in his upcoming Hunted event.

Over all an improvement other last issues problems.

*The issue also by the way claims Billy Connors is a teenager which is maybe the first time since the 1990s Billy has been acknowledged as being a teen. His age has always vacillated wildly.

#Amazing Spider-Man #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Nick Spencer #chris bachalo #Rhino #the rhino #aleksei O'hirn #Paolo Rivera #Aunt May #May Parker #Ned Leeds #Clone Conspiracy #kraven the hunter #Sergei Kravinoff

[phirephox666]

Weekly Fic Recs - POI

Wednesday has come around again and with it more fic recs. This week is Person of Interest, all Reese/Finch. There’s a few more recs this week cuz there wasn’t enough to split into two lists. Happy reading, y’all. 

Weekly Rec Lists

Sympathy for the Hellhound (and the Broken Winged Bird) by RyuuzaKochou

Reese/Finch, Supernatural Au, Bamf Reese, Bamf Finch, Angst, Humor, Complete, 24k

Finch surveyed the room again through his glasses, but it did not become any less overbright with harsh fluorescents, it did not become any less damp, cold, concreted, stuffy or stale, the chair he sat on became no less roughly wooden and he, alas, remained absolutely, totally naked.

Life choices, the grim voice of his common sense cut in. Think on them.

Two men meet under the most dire of circumstances and must rely on each other to survive - and rise. Inspired by Macx's superlative Firewall series, with a twist, and a twist, and a twist.

Blind Men and Elephants by KRyn

Reese/Finch, Humor, Complete, 24k

"It occurred to me that I have been remiss in offering you options in continuing education, Mr. Reese. Studies show that employees who are given the opportunity to sharpen their skills prove to be more content and successful in their chosen fields."

John stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to parse the reason this particular bug had gotten under his partner's skin at this--godawful early--hour. No answers were forthcoming from the textured surface, so he sat up, tossed back the covers, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"I've already been to spy school, Finch."

The Most Important Meal of the Day by CaseyM

Reese/Finch, Complete, 12k

John rolled to his knees. And suddenly there was finely tailored wool right in front of him, navy with a slender gray stripe over a small but perfect ass, and Harold said, “Stay down. I’ve got this.”

John and Harold's relationship is complicated. Something as simple as coffee cake shouldn't lead to a breakthrough. But sometimes a little home cooking is all it takes.

Proximity by therienne

Reese & Finch, Friendship/Gen, Backstory, Complete, 9k

Sometimes intuition is just a form of higher reasoning we cannot yet parse.

Catch a Boat to England, Baby (Maybe to Spain) by leupagus

Reese/Finch, Pre-Canon Au, Different First Meeting, Complete, 4.3k

The car door opens and one of the soldiers slides in, almost braining Harold with the butt of his gun. "Sorry, sir," the soldier says, breathless, "I thought you were in the other car — but you weren't — so I had to jump out and—"

"Who are you?" Harold says, but the soldier's familiar; the tall one who'd looked embarrassed.

And who still looks embarrassed. "Oh. Sorry, sir. Um. John Harris. Private Harris? I'm your um, assigned unit. Sir.” He sticks out a hand.

Orbital Motion by callmecathy

Reese/Finch, Complete, 4.2k

John barely remembers what it is to be loved.

(In which some things come easily, others don't, and John thinks they're what Harold might call a 'work in progress'.)

Truth and Lies by TimelessDreamer2

Reese/Finch, Complete, 2.7k

When Finch told Reese, he would never lie to him, he meant it. Harold Finch cannot lie.

Far From the Tree by wonderble

Reese/Finch, Complete, 8.6k

Newton's law in the form of John, 9.81 m/s and gaining force until impact.

Or, Harold used to like apples. John pushes at meaningless boundaries.

Moving On by tiranog

Reese & Finch, Complete, 83k

John and Harold get a little more than they bargained for when they go out to dinner.

Blinded by the Light by tiranog

Reese/Finch, Complete, 11k

Sequel to Walking in the Dark. Mornings after are never what you expect them to be.

Part 1 of Walking in the Dark Series

Threads by KRyn

Reese/Finch, Complete, 26k

"When we were forced to abandon the Library, I managed to destroy any digital trace of our activities that might offer a means to track us, even in our new identities. Nonetheless, we left behind a treasure trove of clues that offered certain...investigatory options for Samaritan to pursue. I thought it best to keep an eye open."

In the fourth season opener, Greer queries Samaritan as to the status of its efforts to hunt down Finch and Company. The response--'ongoing.' "Threads" is a series of short stories, each chapter a stand-alone, exploring some of the ways Samaritan might attempt to draw our heroes out of hiding.

You don't like me (You just want the attention) by illuminatedcities

Reese/Finch, Tailor Finch, Project Runway Au, Crack, Complete, 3.8k

“You really think it’s that bad?” John asks, tugging at the sleeves of the pantsuit he’s been working on.

“What were you thinking, this hasn’t passed ‘bad’ all the way to ‘hideous’ yet, I’ll just put a fleece jacket over it and give it a final shove?” Shaw asks. 

Project Runway!AU.

The Raven of Odin by Dien

Reese/Finch, CIA Au, Spy Au, Complete, 8.2k

In an alternate universe, Nathan Ingram created IFT on his own, and his college friend joined the CIA instead....

The Warlord Prince of York by Azar

Reese/Finch, Reese & Finch & Carter, Black Jewels Au, Black Jewels Fusion, Complete, 18k

As the influence of Dorothea SaDiablo begins to spread through Terreile, Prince Harold Finch hatches a daring plan to save his home Territory of York. The only problem is, he'll need the help of York's most dangerous Warlord Prince to pull it off.

A Lifetime For A Day by eyeus

Reese/Finch, Bakery Au, Fluff, Complete, 9.3k

“Your Danishes appear dry, over-flaked, and uninspired,” the man informs him. “I don’t doubt the rest of your creations are in the same vein.”

John blinks. This is new; no one’s ever eviscerated him quite like this before.

Part 1 of Of Croquillants and Apple π

All I Know Is Flight by hedda62

Reese/Finch, Complete, 3.7k

Not that the Library is only a workplace. It has atmosphere and beauty and dust and shadows; it holds lingering echoes of lightning keystrokes and reluctant smiles; it's where he meant when he told Carter he wanted to go home. It's the place he works with Finch, and therefore it's like nowhere else in the world.

And now they have to leave it behind.

Miracle on 56th Street by thisstarvingartist

Reese/Finch, Fluff, Complete, 14k

The incoming Christmas season brings along with it a storm the likes of which New York City has never seen; snow stands over four feet high on every street corner, buildings two hundred stories high are invisible through the torrential downpour of snow and hail. Every business and company has been shut down for the foreseeable winter season; not a soul dares wander through the desolation.

Not one, aside from a man with a shovel and a rather cheerful Belgian Malinois.

(Or: The worst snow storm of the century lays waste to New York as Christmas season draws near, leaving its inhabitants stranded in their homes. Harold Finch suffers a severe bout of claustrophobia. John, as always, comes to the rescue.)

An Unstoppable Force by giandujakiss, iteration

Reese/Finch, Female Finch, Feelings, Complete, 28k

John is still trying to figure out this little mouse of a woman who’s hired him, who can do anything with computers and has more money than God and who can barely walk and yet somehow always manages to evade him, who won’t tell him anything about herself but who says she knows everything about him – and he knows that can’t be true, it can’t –

When he realizes, she’s actually attracted to him.

Snow Days by Jo (jmathieson)

Reese/Finch, Fluff, Snowed In, Friends to Love, Complete, 21k

During New York's 'Blizzard of the Century', Finch feels trapped in his own home. Reese and Bear walk across New York in the blizzard to come to Finch's rescue. New York is without power, so the machine is blind. At Finch's house, Finch and Reese talk, play chess, and talk some more. They each share some of their past, and some of their feelings.

A More Conventional Life by x_art

Reese/Finch, Kid Fic, Complete, 17k

Because children changed everything. They always had and they always would.

Discretion by JinkyO

Reese/Finch, Slice of Life, Friends to Lovers, Complete, 34k

After Finch and Reese are forced into hiding, Professor Whistler and Detective Riley try to make a life together.

An AU Canon Divergent imagining of the events between Season 3 and Season 4.

It's a Dog's Life by manic_intent

Reese/Finch, Fantasy Au, Complete, 9k

Six months, no yellow cape, and one and a half thankfully harmless gun accidents after, Harold and Nathan had settled into a routine. The Machine would send them a number, and Harold would try his damnedest to resolve it through a computer. Usually, this endeavour would end in failure, because despite the advent of technology, the idiocy of certain members of humanity was so fundamental that not even computers could provide any sort of real solution.

This meant that Nathan often had to intervene. Sometimes they hired help: which had worked out with varying degrees of disaster. Sometimes they tipped off the police. Sometimes Nathan and Harold ventured out, bickering all the time, and the success rate of this latter tactic was usually at around 24%. It also usually served to further erode Harold’s already falling opinion of humanity.

Machine Language by manic_intent

Reese/Finch, Cyborg Au, Sci Fi Au, Complete, 8k

Snow had rambled halfway through the brief before he realized that John wasn't paying him any attention: as he trailed off, Kara's gaze jumped from Snow to John, then to the inoffensive, quiet-looking middle-aged man who had followed Snow into the briefing room only to sit in a corner without a word.

"Something on your mind, Agent?" Snow asked irritably.

"Sorry, Mark," John drawled. "It's just that I've never seen a cybrid before."

Dangerous If Unbound by astolat

Reese/Finch, Finch & Ingram, Telepathy, Dom/Sub Au, Complete, 24k

The Texas sun beating down was merciless, almost a physical weight on his shoulders. John couldn't move even to change the angle: the collar was tight, the cuffs were tight, and the chains had been pulled to their limits.

Hamartia (the hero's fatal flaw) by astolat

Reese/Finch, Kid Fic, Complete, 15k

"We're not looking to make friends, Harold," John said. "We want our neighbors to classify us and then avoid us. Being the scandalous gay couple down the street is a good option."

Walking in the Dark by tiranog

Reese/Finch, Complete, 16k

Even superheroes get lonely. John Reese asks his enigmatic partner to accompany him to a ball game.

Technical Support by astolat

Reese/Finch, Different First Meeting, Complete, 14k

The IFT Plaza security team wasn't what John would have called the brightest stars in the firmament. (Written for the tech support AU prompt.)

Home Run by astolat

Reese/Finch, Backstory, Complete, 3k

They caught the 7 train heading to Flushing. Looking around at the crowd, dotted with caps and shirts and grown men wearing face paint, John raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't a Mets fan, Finch."

Harold blinked at him. "I'm not, Mr. Reese," he said.

Love And Marriage by astolat

Reese/Finch, Humor, Complete, 4.7k

"Harold," John said, "are you asking me to marry you for your money?"

"Well, Mr. Reese," Harold said, "given how much of it you've spent already, I don't really see how you can complain." 

#person of interest #poi #john reese #harold finch #poi fic #fic rec #weekly rec lists #rec lists

[restoringsanity]

I could understand why the people who conflate fiction with reality don't like age-gap/abuse/incest ships, but what I don't get is the 'don't ship someone with their oppresor'. Are these people againts m/f, interacial or straight/bi relationships?? Because I've seen people practically advocating for segregation (especially when it comes to interracial ships) and I can't understand how someone could ever think that is a good idea. Idek if they are serious or is just a bad excuse to hate on ships.

i mean, the whole aging up discourse is just one more way to say women (and “”“women”“”) are degenerate sex demons. “even when there’s no room for sexuality, you go ahead and change the rules! are you just horny all the time? is sex the only thing on your minds? why do you like something so dirty and shameful so much?!” and then they wonder how women that are anti-abortion, slutshamers, victim-blamers, anti-sex ed, etc, can be like that. maybe look in a mirror before asking that.

I’m not super fluent in identity politics and activism speak, but -

Are these people againts m/f, interacial or straight/bi relationships??

Kind of. (Note: When I say ‘ship’, I mean the fictional concept. When I say relationship, I’m speaking of the real life equivalent.) Concerning interracial ships, they’re not disallowed (I think?), but rather considered mandatory. If you don’t actively choose to like the interracial ship, then you’re a racist. So, on one hand ‘don’t ship people with their oppressors’, unless it’s an issue of performative intersectionality. Up for interpretation, though. If it’s a m/m ship, don’t draw/write the person of color topping (because ‘thug’ stereotypes, somehow), but also don’t draw/write them bottoming (because infantilization, and also oppressive notions), and don’t you dare draw/write them like that.

Racism is a delicate subject, and we should be having conversations about it - but not like that. If we’re going to be talking about the issues people of color have to face, and you bring up ships, I’m going to stop talking to you. That is trivializing the suffering of millions to micromanaging inconsequential fictional content. Shipping isn’t activism.

Concerning m/f, heterosexual and bisexual ships - well, why don’t you ask our dearest radfems? I’m a feminist. I even believe in the wage gap, which makes me an ‘extreme feminist’ to some. I’m not a radical feminist, though. I’m currently quite disinterested in even having conversations with militant radical feminists.Their ‘a woman can never consent to sex with a man’, and ‘every instance of a woman having sex with a man is rape’, and ‘all men are oppressors’, their anti-kink and neo-sex-negativity bullshit has begun leaking into shipping discourse. Where do you think the whole ‘pedophilia’ angle is coming from? (So much of radical feminist rhetoric matches extreme conservative/traditionalist/puritan notion, point for point.)If you follow the logic through all flavors of discourse, you eventually realize that what ties a nice bow around it all is victimhood/victimization/self-victimization, etc. “Sex makes victims, so - sex is bad. Unless it’s between women.” (Mmmm, that pure, pure wlw content.) Because apparently victims can’t victimize each other. I’m certainly not calling all women victims. I’m not doing that. I believe women have agency - which is apparently a controversial idea to people who think ‘women can never consent to sex with a man’/etc. Why do you think TERFs don’t like transwomen and transmen? Transwomen are ‘male invaders’ and transmen have ‘internalized misogyny’. TERFs put themselves into a position of having to defend themselves against who they perceive as aggressors, from the outside and inside both. I’d guess it’s a form of selective hyper-vigilance (for a lack of better terminology).

shipping ‘incest’ -> ‘romanticizing’/’normalizing’ abuse, disrespectful/harmful to victims/survivorsshipping ‘abuse’ -> ‘romanticizing’/’normalizing’ abuse, disrespectful/harmful to victims/survivors shipping ‘pedophilia’ -> ‘romanticizing’/’normalizing’ abuse (CSA), disrespectful/harmful to victims/survivors shipping ‘age gaps’ -> ‘romanticizing’/’normalizing’ abuse (’power imbalances’), disrespectful/harmful to victims/survivorsshipping ‘a victim with their oppressor’ -> ‘romanticizing’/’normalizing’ abuse (oppression), disrespectful/harmful to victims/survivors

That’s the one angle, whenever a ship is criticized. It’s always decisively identifying a victim, and an aggressor.consensual kink (BDSM/etc) -> ‘romanticizing’/’normalizing’ abuse (sexual abuse), disrespectful/harmful to victims/survivors yaoi/BL -> ‘romanticizing’/’normalizing’ abuse (sexual abuse ‘tropes’), disrespectful/harmful to victims/survivors… and so on.

To what end? I don’t know. There’s just something about controlling people that is so, so enticing. No matter who you are - the concept of power is oh so tempting, and you’ll reach for it in the smallest of ways.

“My body, my choice” isn’t usually up for debate among radical feminists, unless it is. Too often the body in question is a collective one. Radical feminists have decided that women can decide for other women what to do with their bodies, and with their lives. Whether it’s a matter of sexual activity (kink/etc), identity (transitioning/etc), or career (stay-at-home mother), among other issues.Women are supposed to decide for themselves how they want to dress, because it’s their body - unless it’s catering to the ‘male gaze’. We are against slut-shaming, unless a slut needs to be shamed. We are sex-positive, unless the sex isn’t ‘pure’.I wouldn’t be surprised if the statement ‘pro-abortion, but only if the fetus is male’ has already been made.

As a feminist, it pains me to see that some feminist movements have become oppressive. As someone who endorses and supports the idea of social justice, it pains me to see that some extreme iterations of it have become a farce.

The whole ‘shipping discourse’ is neither an issue of feminism, nor social justice, or activism to me. It’s fucking embarrassing. More often than not (on Tumblr especially), it’s always about someone’s personal agenda, and what they want - and if they can’t have it, and if not everyone wants the same, they’ll fucking come for whoever wants something else.

#on radical feminism #radfem rhetoric #I didn't even have to reach very far for this one #it's like #right there

[i-am-an-accidental-hipster]

this "Mataguy Madness" is interesting, sounds a bit r/nosleep-esque. Give us all the spooky stories! (If you wanna) :D

Heh, i don’t know if they’re spooky, but that may be because I’ve lived it.

Ok, so the camp that I work at is called “Mataguay”. It borders on the local kumeyaay reservation, as in if you wander too far up the slope of one of the hills they are legally allowed to shoot you. I’ve never tested it, and I don’t intend to.

We have ghost stories at the camp, but it is common knowledge among the staff that the stories are almost entirely made up. there is some true information to be found in it, though. the valley used to belong to the kumeyaay, and they had a conflict with the spaniards, a lot of them died and were supposedly buried in a mass grave on one side of the valley, and then english (or american? not sure) settlers moved in. most of the new guys were jerks, but this one guy (Trainer? Traynor?) was more nice to them, i guess. then he was crushed by a tree branch and died, and the kumeyaay created a memorial stone for him in his favorite part of camp, and his wife’s ashes were spread around it when she died. supposedly the stone is cursed, which of course means that people dare each-other to touch it. his barn is still standing, btw. then the portion of the land which trainer owned was donated by his daughter to the boy scouts. later, when the kumeyaay needed money they sold part of their land to the camp. and then some more later on.

also, the camp is infested with Datura Stramonium, a very potent and highly lethal psychoactive plant, so take everything i’m about to say with a grain of salt. but also, i’m not making any of this up. this is all stuff that happened as i remember it.

there were some red flags that the camp was a haunted madhouse right when I joined, because right off the bat one of the more experienced staff encountered a doppelganger. of me.

apparently she was walking over near the old observatory when she heard, very distinctly, my voice shouting a greeting to her “from the trees”. She ran up to me and literally asked me “were you in the trees? i heard your voice coming from the trees”. i had just come from the trading post, not the old observatory, so i said no, and she seemed very distressed by the revelation.

even back then, when the madness had not come over me, i could tell that there was something wrong about Mountain Man Meadow. Every other part of camp had a sort of natural white noise to it, with crickets, frogs, bats, and even just the wind making some kind of noise. But when we held an astronomy outing in the meadow that year, it was eerily, deafeningly silent. and there was a feeling of oppressive dread which seemed to emanate from the place, almost as if the shadows were moving of their own volition. it creeped me out enough to distract me from the astronomy, and I love astronomy.

mataguay madness always starts with one landmark event, which marks the point where you first start to crack. for most, it comes in the form of violantly intrusive thoughts, like “I wonder what my life would be like if I were a little french girl”, followed by an inability to process reality for a minute or two, and can strike even in the middle of a class in front of an audience (actual example, and no, the guy is not trans). It usually strikes at the end of the second year. mine was more... dramatic.

... i got high...

...on ice cubes.

i’m not kidding. I wasn’t even eating the ice, I was holding a large clump of ice cubes in my hands, watching them melt and feeling the cold run through my fingers. then, I started to snicker. the snicker developed into a chuckle, then into a loud, uncontrollable, almost painful cackle. one of the other staff came over to me to see if i was alright, but was rather taken aback by how utterly unhinged i looked, rocking back and forth and laughing like a stereotypical asylum patient. i calmed down after a few more seconds, but i was forever changed.

years later, a friend of mine who i would later date for a time suffered her bout of madness by tearing the bean-bag chairs apart, spreading around the little Styrofoam pellets, and giggling hysterically as she rubbed some of them into my hair. not as dramatic, but pretty similar. she had no idea why she did it.

anyways, the next year i officially joined staff, as the astronomy instructor. and for whatever reason i decided to take a plastic owl I had found in the upper room while I was sorting (one of the ones used to scare off rats and such) and carry it in my arms. for the entire summer. I named it Arcturus. Also, because I thought I was hilarious, I told everyone that I could use it to steal people’s souls if they displeased me. All the campers found it funny (for the most part), and so did the younger staff. The older staff, on the other hand, seemed to become afraid of the owl. They actually asked me to turn it away from them when I would set it on the table during meals. I thought that was hilarious too, until they kidnapped it and through it away during the last week of camp. I had grown rather attached to the thing over that summer, so i was notably distressed when I found out. One of the other staffers gave me a replacement owl, Spica, which I still have in my room.

the next year, i completely changed my look. I still wore my staff uniform, but over it I wore a lab-coat i had found in one of the drawers at my house, i changed my haircut, and i carried around a large “walking stick” i had found in the woods. this may seem irrelevant now, but it will become relevant later, as I basically kept this look for the next 4 years, and was instantly recognizable.

My eyes began developing a bit of a quirk. i could barely stand the daylight, but during the night i could see perfectly, as if it were day (I still have this). The constellations started to reveal themselves to me, but not as if I were learning their shapes but more like they were actual people, introducing themselves to me. sometimes, i could almost hear them speaking to me, and could certainly feel them. As soon as the stars came out, I would feel as if my body were humming with some kind of power. i can’t explain it. i began wandering around at night without a flashlight, sometimes crossing the entire valley just to play diablo 2. where i used to feel the shadows crowding around me, now I could kinda see them, but they always seemed to be fleeing from me. they looked like a shadowy haze in the vague form of man. occasionally, they would group up and try to bar my way, but i would just stare at them and start singing “Flying Fortress”, or reciting the Saint Michael prayer, and they would part around me. I was never quite sure if what I was seeing was real, or the result of an over-active imagination, though.

Back to mountain man meadow, my area was right next to it, and i began noticing some strange things about it, not the least of which was the blood-curdling scream which came from the forest just beyond it every once and awhile at sunset, a scream of a little girl. we actually sent in search parties to figure out who was screaming, but we never found anything. might have been a goat. but i also know that there were footprints that would appear in the meadow whenever one wasn’t looking. i checked.

apparently the meadow is right next to that kumeyaay mass grave I mentioned earlier. I could never get an exact answer on where said grave was relative to the meadow, though. other people have said that they saw actual apparitions there, a little girl in a white dress and a little boy in a small headress, both silent. One guy even claimed the first one followed him around, though he also he believes he saw the ghost from our false ghost story, so...

ok, so my madness was bad, but this one guy... i dunno. it was either madness or he was stupid as a brick. he ended up stabbing himself through his sleeping bag somehow, apparently while “trying to stab a rat that was on the wall next to him”. i don’t doubt the part about the rat, as i have had to bed a foot from a tarantula, but HOW DOES ONE MISS AT A 90 DEGREE ANGLE AND STAB ONE’S LEG IN A SLEEPING BAG WHILE TRYING TO STAB A RAT? anyways, he goes to the hospital to have it stitched up, and he comes back a week later with explicit instructions to stay out of the water or the cut will re-open

the first thing he does when he gets back is jump in the pool. he spends the rest of the week in the med lodge. he comes out the next week only to do the exact same thing, and repeat. administration began confiscating his knives, and he kept buying new ones and bringing them to camp, often playing with them dangerously in front of the scouts. he got fired.

now for mataguay magic. during that very same year, there was a revival of mataguay’s apparently very old practice of what is called “rain turtles”, though they are more properly called weather turtles. their purpose is to change the weather. it’s kinda like alchemy, ah-la FMA. first you draw a circle on the ground, and then draw four legs, a head, and a tail on it so it looks like a turtle as viewed from above. then you draw the kind of weather you want inside it, usually rain. you dig a shallow hole in the center, and then place something of the same “element” as what you want in the hole, usually spitting in it for rain. then you dance around it in a circle, counterclockwise while spinning around counterclockwise as well. The intended weather usually strikes within 48 hours. our “camp witchdoctor” earned his title when he had his class each make they’re own rain turtles in mountain man meadow every week, resulting in every weekend being covered in an absolute deluge. he actually got in trouble with administration, not for teaching his students magic but for doing the ritual the day before clean-up day every week, because even the administration believed the stuff actually works. as if to spite them, he then made a turtle with a picture of a fire in it and threw his lighter into it. low and behold, the next morning the other side of the hills from camp burst into flames. never reached us, but still. he was then banned from making weather turtles ever again.

now for mataguay religion. during that very same year, a cult began to form around the program director. largely because he was the first good program director we had in years. at first it was all in fun, with chants of “hail [redacted]” and much air-punching. then it got weird. some of the older staff began taking pictures of him while he was asleep (a rare occurrence, as he pulled way too many all-nighters to try to fix all the problems the previous directors had caused) and making said pictures the desktop background for every computer they could get their hands on. they changed the screen-savers to “hail [redacted]”, and taped that phrase on the wall of my area’s staircase in red tape, with the “hail” spelled the german way. because of course it was. I happened to share a name with said program director, so in order to keep people from thinking i was an egotistical nazi i would tear the message down, only to have it show up the next day. Then our camp witch-doctor took it too far, and signed it up with the state as a protestant sect and became a minister of it. since then, even though that program director left I haven’t been able to escape the cult, largely because we have the same name and everyone thinks that I’m the god of mataguay. I really don’t like it, and it may have contributed to the full emergence of my doppelganger last year.

the camp witch doctor mentions to me, almost off-handedly, that the spirits of the camp seem scared of me.

the next year was the first time camp begins to suspect there is something up. about ME. one of the administration comments he heard footsteps and the muffled sound of my voice emanating from my classroom in the middle of the night. he goes to check, but there is no-one there, but he feels a certain wrongness in the place. he goes back down stairs only to hear footsteps again, this time leaving the room, and then heading off in the direction of mountain man meadow. he asks me about it the next day, only for me to tell him that i had been on the other side of camp doing an astronomy outing. there is much perplextion on either side. it also comes to my attention that people have begun seeing what looks like the glow of electric lights in trainer’s house, even though no-one lives there and further there is no electric current running to the house, as no-one has ever bothered to run an electric cable out that far. i remembered a time when we were walking back from the camp ghost story as a tenderfoot and i saw a blue flickering light in that very same house which i had assumed was an old tv set.

by this point i have started to talk to the constellations and greet them when they appear, and also to yell at the sun to stop hogging the glory

the next year, near the end of the year, i come across a friend of mine who is trying to get out of working his area the next day. I catch him performing an extremely bastardized version of the rain turtle ritual and, even though i have avoided ever doing the ritual myself, i feel compelled to correct him. this turned out to be a mistake. upon completing the ritual, i feel a tugging sensation in my gut, and he and i and this one scout who was watching us nearby felt both the temperature and pressure drop in three waves over a course of 5 seconds, and clouds begin appearing on the horizon. the scout was awestruck and begins asking what i just did, my friend was elated, and i... i was highly disturbed.it rained from thursday to tuesday that week, and the forecast said it as supposed to be sunny with slight clouds. i have never performed that ritual ever again, because i felt like a bit of me seeped into the land when i did so.

this turned out to be a bit of a prophetic feeling, because at the beginning of the next year a series of disturbing events started to occur. the first evidence that something was seriously wrong was that, a week before we moved back into the cabins they already showed signs of being haunted for some unknown reason. only two people were on camp at the time: a new staffer and one who had worked there for nearly a decade and a half. the older one fell asleep in the cabins, with the lights off, while the new one went to the staff lounge to get a drink. he came back to find the lights on, and the older staff member still asleep. he woke u the older staffer to ask him who turned the lights on, only to have the older one look at him with confusion (the older one has very low-functioning autism, and has never been known to lie even in jest, so i doubt he was playing any kind of trick).

2 weeks later, I got annoyed when someone was vaping in the cabin and the fumes kept wafting over to my bunk and with the fact that they were going to press people into work parties as soon as we woke up, so I got up without telling anyone, left my sleeping bag on the bunk, and went to go sleep on one of the comfy couches in the staff lounge. keep in mind, i did this in the middle of the night. in the morning, the person next to my bed told me that he could have sworn that he heard me get up at 5am, say “they’ll never find me”, and walk out the door. he was adamant that he had heard me say it, and was baffled when i told him i was in the staff lounge the whole time. however, i also mentioned that i did wake up briefly at 5 am and think that exact thought.

soon thereafter, an even more anomalous thing occurred: the shadow people began to come back, and with such frequency and audacity that even the new staff began to see them clearly. many of them appeared at one of my old haunts, a concrete platform next to a broken shack known as the “old observatory”, though I never saw them there myself. one of them even walked towards a trio of new staff into the moonlight so that it was fully visible as a hazy, black mist in the shape of a man. that trio shortly fled the area.

even so, it seems the shadow people were still afraid of me. Once, when I was sitting up on the hill overlooking the dining hall at night, I saw a shadow flit past my shoulder, and it was running towards the staff cabins. I stood up and addressed it directly. I told it I would not harm it, and that I wanted to see what it looked like. It paused, turned towards me, and the shadow collapsed into a single point in mid-air, which shifted to become an orange-red light. It only stayed that way for a moment before changing back to it’s shadow form and speeding away from me as fast as it’s shadow legs could carry it.

but that was only the prelude of what was to come, because soon after that, IT started showing up, visibly. And by it, I mean me. Whatever had been copying my voice and footsteps before now was copying my appearance as well. staff became adamant that they saw me, walking silently between Mountain Man Meadow and the Fort, with my white lab-coat blowing in the breeze and my walking stick clacking on the asphalt in time with my steps. Two things were wrong with that: #1 I was on the other side of camp playing Warcraft 2 and #2 I never walk quietly. I always sing or chant or pray aloud when walking at night, as loud as I can, because I can. Me moving in silence at night is so out of character it was jarring to hear. In most cases when the staff member in question called to me in greeting, “I” did not speak up but instead glanced over in their direction without expression and waved mechanically back at them. we began calling this other me “[redacted]” which is my name backwards. when I later ask one of my friends who was into magic if i had indeed been it two places at once, she got back to me a day later and told me “that thing wasn’t you. don’t go back there.”

I think it was the first time in a long time I had actually been scared of something supernatural in nature. as silly as it might be, there is something dreadful about thinking that at any moment you might see your own face staring at you blankly through the window. even today, a year after having quit the job, I still have difficulty looking in mirrors, as it brings back foul memories of fearing the sight of my own face.

i had one regret upon finally leaving the camp, after so long, and that regret was leaving my friends, the constellations. sure, I had set up a promising successor to teach the badge (i never had anyone to teach me), but I knew that for a time the quality of instruction would take a serious nose-dive. And I also knew that I would miss seeing the constellations. i live in a place with a lot of light pollution, so it can be hard to find a place to see my old friends properly, whereas in mataguay they veritably blaze in the sky, cold and beautiful. and i knew, somehow, that the constellations would miss me too, miss me retelling their stories or explaining fun facts about the stars within them. Above all, I would miss Scorpio, the first constellation I would see each evening, the one I liked to talk to most. sure, i could see them occasionally on camp-outs and whatnot, but it wouldn’t be the same. call it madness if you will, but that day I feel like I lost some good friends.

[aion-rsa]

INTERVIEW: Adam Warren on A Decade of ‘Goofily Sexy’ Series Empowerment

Time flies when you’re tied up and having fun. Adam Warren and Dark Horse Comics kick off the 10th anniversary of their popular “Empowered” series this month with a three-issue miniseries titled “Empowered and the Soldier of Love,” with the first issue on sale this week. Promising the usual hijinks, damaged personalities and meta-commentary on the depiction of women in comics, the series pits Empowered against a Sailor Moon-inspired “soldier of love” who finds her abilities aren’t so endearing as an adult.

Series creator Warren is joined by illustrator Karla Diaz, author of the webcomics “Cute Sins” and “Coffee Shop,” for “Empowered and the Soldier of Love,” making her the first person to drawn an extended Emp story besides Warren himself.

CBR asked Warren some questions about the aluminum anniversary for “Empowered,” what keeps the series fresh, handing off artistic reins and what other 10th-year treats are on the way.

CBR: Adam, what’s the thrust of “Empowered and the Soldier of Love”?

Adam Warren: Well, this miniseries asks two key questions: 1) What happens to a “Sailor-Moon”-style “magical girl” who discovers, as a disillusioned grown-up, that having unearthly “love powers” isn’t quite as awesome as she thought it would be as a naive teenager? 2) And then what happens when this embittered magical girl sets her sights on an already chaotic and semi-deranged superhero universe like that of “Empowered”? Not surprisingly for the “Empverse,” what happens is everything goes to hell — but a goofily sexy and romantically supercharged kind of hell, needless to say! (Or did I need to say that, after all? Yes, I did! Ignore that previous “needless to say,” please.)

“Empowered and the Soldier of Love” #1 by Karla Diaz.

Emp and Ninjette have certainly gotten into some tangled situations in the past. How does this new foe’s arrival push them into new territory?

As “Empowered” readers well know, our long-suffering heroine Emp has endured plenty of cluelessness and stupidity from her fellow superheroes — or, less charitably, “douchecapes” — during her time in the field. Ah, but until this miniseries, she’s never before had to cope with the overheated, hormone-addled goofiness of godlike beings unhinged by love and/or lust — well, usually, both — as a mercenary magical girl’s powers turn the entire “supracommunity” upside down! As uncontrolled mask-and-tights sexiness rampages unchecked through her passion-paralyzed city, can a beleaguered Emp puzzle out the Soldier of Love’s apocalyptic endgame and save the day — or at least stop herself from slapping the crap outta her love-lobotomized, endlessly horny, perpetually “sexting” teammates?

Meanwhile, Emp’s BFF Ninjette is just along for the ride at first, katana and beer(s) in hand as she sardonically Shakes Her Damn Head at the unfolding spectacle. Ah, but by the story’s end, Ninjette will find out the hard way that she’s heartbreakingly vulnerable to the Soldier of Love’s misused magic, with shockingly dire consequences for everyone involved. Look out, Ninjette! (Also, look out, everyone involved!)

What other members of Emp’s crew will be most affected by Soldier of Love’s antics?

Well, the members of the “Superhomeys,” Emp’s already rather dysfunctional superteam, are hit hard by the Soldier-triggered surge of so-called “supraromantic churn.” In fact, three of Emp’s infatuation-incapacitated teammates spend much of their time onscreen—or “on-page” — more accurately, drooling into their smartphones while incessantly sexting back and forth with newly met superlovers — or “capes with benefits,” if you will. While the blobby Protean tests the waters of polyamory, Major Havoc and Yummy Mummy each drown in their own one-on-one sea of love, with an oblivious Yummy creeping out Emp and Ninjette with her incessant, disturbingly sexualized “daddy” chatter. (As Emp and Ninjette both have distinct sets of daddy issues, they have no time for such supposed “sexy talk.”) Meanwhile, hapless leader—and stainless-steel golem—Capitan Rivet struggles to hold the team together, making the Superhomeys HQ ring with the sound of one frustrated, Picard-style “facepalm” after another. Clang!

“Empowered and the Soldier of Love” #1 interior page by Adam Warren and Karla Diaz

You’ve worked with other artists on “Empowered” before, but this will be the longest “Empowered” story that you haven’t drawn yourself. Does that change your approach to writing?

To a degree, certainly. With a regular “Empowered” volume and its generous—if not excessive!—200+ pages, I’m allowed the luxury of planning out the book ahead of time, but then writing and drawing its pages essentially one at a time. This allows me a degree of spontaneity and flexibility that’s alien to my previous experiences in print comics, but not unlike how many webcomics are produced. Ah, but when writing for another artist, I need to take a more pragmatic and measured-out work approach, while still angling for as much playfulness and creative freedom as possible.

Gotta say that, while I’ve worked with “Guest Artists” — note the important capitalization! — on “Empowered” before, each previous occasion was a one-shot story. While I enjoyed each of these one-off collaborations, I found the abbreviated format a bit limiting, especially compared to the wide-open page count of regular “Empowered” volumes. Often, as a writer, I felt like I was just getting warmed up to both the story and the artist just as the single issue’s ending arrived. So, when Dark Horse and I were envisioning a new round of Guest Artist “Emp” projects for the series’ 10th anniversary in 2017, I was eager to try something more ambitious. Bolder, even! Daring-er! Also, importantly, longer—as in, hello, multiple-issue miniseries!

What does Karla Díaz bring to the page?

Well, from the moment I first stumbled across Karla’s work online, with her romantic comedy webcomic “NON-NON” as well as earlier online series “Cute Sins” and “Coffee Shop,” I was struck by both her hilariously expressive character work and her equally strong sense of high-energy visual humor. Of course, being a self-centered jerk as many if not most comics writers are, I immediately began obsessing over how these fine artistic qualities could be employed—nay, synergistically employed, to tell an “Empowered” story. The “Soldier of Love” character actually dated back to a separate, failed comic pitch years ago, but I’d long considered bringing her into the wacky ol’ “Empowered” universe — and Karla’s comedic sensibilities made her the perfect artist to handle the task! (Alas, all the ribbons, bows, pleats, frills and flounces of the Soldier’s flowery workwear drove me crazy every time I tried to draw her myself.)

So, after tracking down Karla online — bless you, sainted interweb! — and commissioning some sample artwork, I was thrilled with the character designs she worked up for the Soldier of Love and her magical pangolin mascot—er, that is, the Soldier’s magical mascot, not Karla’s. (I don’t think she has a talkative pet pangolin, but I could be wrong.) Her takes on existing characters Emp and Ninjette were just as much fun, with the wild “floofiness” of the latter’s ponytail being a particular flourish that cracks me up everytime I see it. Her pages for the actual issues have worked out even better, with all the energetic humor, visual flair and charming facial expression work I was hoping for — with a key bonus being her beautiful color art, as the Soldier’s story was one that very much needed to be told in full color. (Well, full color with a noted emphasis on pink, that is.)

Plus, gotta admit that I’m pleased to be able to give an opportunity to another manga-influenced artist, as the North American (print) comics field isn’t overwhelmingly open or welcoming to my sisters and brothers of that persuasion.

“Empowered and the Soldier of Love” #1 interior page by Adam Warren and Karla Diaz

As a follow-up to that thought, does manga’s large audience, but strangely small overlap with traditional comics market readership, ever affect your approach to “Empowered”?

Even though I’m all too aware of the divergence between audiences, I can’t say that it particularly affects my approach to the series. I just try to tell the best stories I can—whether humorous or action-packed or emotionally charged or daringly structured—and hope that they can reach some kind of readership. And so far, despite the inherent difficulties of being a manga-influenced series in a genre and field sometimes indifferent or even hostile to such a storytelling preference, “Empowered” has indeed managed to find an appreciative audience. Yay!

I should add that, now that “Empowered” is being serialized online from the series’ beginning, I’ve encountered yet another avenue of audience divergence—and that would be the often stark divide between readers of webcomics and print comics, two groups whose Venn diagrams seem to have surprisingly little overlap at times. Well, given the neither-fish-nor-fowl flexibility inherent to “Empowered,” I’m always happy to bl under the series headlong into areas of comics bifurcation!

Even after you started the first “Empowered” story, well after the first drawing that planted the kernel of an idea, could you ever have imagined it thriving 10 years later?

Ah, no, not in the slightest! In those bygone, dawn-era days of noodling aimlessly away at the one-off jokes that would gradually evolve into “Empowered,” I could not possibly have imagined that these modest, low-key, ambition-free strips would somehow transform themselves into the most epic, emotionally charged, surprisingly ambitious and longest-running project of my entire g-d career! Back in the beginning, I wasn’t thinking 10 days ahead, let alone 10 years. In fact, back then I assumed that I was just temporarily messing around with these goofy superhero strips before starting work for a major publisher on one of my other “Real Serious, All-Grown-Up, Brace Yourselves For My Career-Fulfilling Magnum Opus” comic proposals. Ah, but none of those big-deal pitches ever got off the ground, while “Empowered” still soars ever higher skyward! Fly, “Empowered,” fly!

“Empowered and the Soldier of Love” #1 interior page by Adam Warren and Karla Diaz

What else do you have in the works?

Well, as 2017 represents the 10th anniversary of Empowered’s first publication, Dark Horse and I are aiming for a big push for the series during this upcoming year. Next up will be the summer release of “Empowered” vol. 10, the next 216-page, drawn-by-me installment in the regular graphic-novel series. Beyond that, we’ll have more exciting Emp-related announcements throughout the rest of 2017, including further—and bolder!—developments on the Guest Artist miniseries front!

Lemme also hasten to mention that “Empowered” is now being serialized as a webcomic, with extensive — if not exhaustive — creator commentary on every single g-d page, folks! Why, we even have the very first “Empowered” merchandise ever created now available on the site, as a series of 12” X 18” color prints over in the “Store” link! You can check out the webcomic here: http://ift.tt/1HLU2fw

Beyond “Empowered,” I can assure you that I’m also hustling and scheming and conniving to get a few other projects underway. No, really! “Irons in the fire” and all that, blah blah blah. As much as I enjoy working on “Empowered” — and have no intention of stopping work on it any time soon — I do have other stories I’d like to tell.

“Empowered & The Soldier of Love” #1 is on sale now from Dark Horse Comics.

The post INTERVIEW: Adam Warren on A Decade of ‘Goofily Sexy’ Series Empowerment appeared first on CBR.com.

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