#tame the malo in him

[shadowofroses]

Latina Itsukai

Demon Slayer

Pairing: Reader x Sanemi (not much tho)

Warnings: American Writer who is rusty with their Spanish like es muy malo, Argentinian Reader, Spanish and Japanese Romanji used, main story English. Language as in swearing, Song reference, Sanemi has a hardon in the end.

Note: I usually avoid Writing for Languages/Cultures that I feel insecure about representing. I studied in Argentina, so I do know the language and some culture that was there. Spanish will be Broken I do apologize, and thank you for having patience with me. @minxsane @saneminx can judge me all they want, It's for you~

Song: Tu Principe by Daddy Yankee

Summery: Due to a Blood Art, somehow a Latina Reader ends up in 1900's Japan, leading them to eventually their new favorite person to annoy. Sanemi.

Headcannon/story for it:

Thanks to a Demon, somehow you found yourself from the comfort of your home back in Argentina. To the early 1900’s Japan, not just any place, either. Inside one of your favorite shows/manga. Demon Slayer. 

Luckily you were found by Mitsuri Kanroji during a Mission. The Demon she was fighting opened up some sort of portal to escape, however somehow you ended up flying into her arm, face first into her boobs as the demon disintegrated. 

Communicating frayed your nerves, and both of you ended up crying cause you both wanted to communicate easily. You weren’t that great with Japanese yet, “Nani, Daijoubu, Nani desu ka, and Omae wa mou shindeiru.” was all you recalled. Last one you refrained from ever saying. Or at least tried.  

You said it once when you were being grilled by Uzui, and he roared laughing. He learned that your Japanese was highly limited. It amused him so much. You lived and worked with the girls at the butterfly estate, until you were able to hold a decent conversation with most people in Japanese. 

You were entertaining yourself and the girls as you were waiting for someone to come get you so that you could actually talk to the Master Ubuyashiki. 

This is the exact time that Sanemi, Uzui and Rengoku were sent to escort you. 

“Mami, ¿cómo decirte lo que por ti siento? No tenerte sigue causándome sufrimiento, Pero si me vieras con los ojos que te veo, Fueras mi Julieta y yo por siempre tu Romero, Quiero tenerte aquí mi nena en una noche serena, Amándonos bajo la luna llena~”

You had sung out with a grin on your face. Taming down your dance moves. You had finished trying to teach them how to dance a tango. As you were singing your let your feet slide yourself back swinging your hips hard Inadvertently bumping into a body behind you.Turning your head slightly you noticed you had rocked your ass right into Sanemi’s crotch, causing a snicker from Uzui, Rengoku kept his eyes wide and straight ahead. “Estoy cagar…”

Sanemi twitched, “What the fuck I thought you girls were teaching her Japanese! What are you doing slacking!” 

Kiyo stepped forward, “She knows Japanese well enough now!”

Naho nodded, “Yes! We were waiting for you three to get here.”

“I can speak Japanese.” You grumbled turning to Sanemi, regardless of how attractive he was, he annoyed you with his rudeness. “Eres un baludo.” you smirked, KNOWING he wouldn’t understand, Sanemi stiffened blushing slightly as you walked past him, “take me to the Master.”

“YES!” Rengoku exclaimed, as he started to walk off with you. Uzui manhandled Sanemi to turn to follow. 

“The fuck did you say to me?!” Sanemi wanted to be pissed, but Uzui heard his heart rate, causing him to grin down at the shorter Hashira.  

You smirked just staring forward, “Chupar mis huevos Sanemi.” 

Uzui slapped Sanemi’s back laughing, before lowering his head, “You may need to control yourself.” 

Sanemi snapped back at the Sound Hashira, “The fuck are you talking about?!” 

Uzui leaned in more, and whispered into Sanemi’s ear. Behind you you heard a frustrated scream. And you tried not to look behind you at that, not wanting to know what pissed him off. 

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT COLUMBANUS (Columban) The Patron Saint of Motorcyclists Feast Day: November 23

"Be friendly with men of honor, stiff with rascals. Be gentle to the weak, firm to the stubborn, steadfast to the proud, humble to the lowly. Be ever sober, ever chaste, ever modest. Be patient as far as is compatible with zeal."

The greatest missionary in all of Ireland, Columbanus or Columban, was born in the year 543 at Leinster, Kingdom of Meath (now part of Ireland). After his conception, his mother was said to have had a vision of her child's 'remarkable genius'.

When he was young, several girls made advances to him; and a holy woman from whom he asked advice, said: 'You think that you can freely avoid women. Do you remember Adam who yielded to Eve? Samson made weak by Delilah? David lured from his former righteousness by the beauty of Bathsheba? The wise Solomon deceived by love of women? Go away, turn from the river into which so many have fallen.'

He was first educated under Abbot Sinell of Cluaninis, whose monastery was on an island of the River Erne, in modern County Fermanagh. Under his instruction, Columbanus composed a commentary on the Psalms. Later, he left his family and entered the monastic life to Bangor Abbey, where he studied to become a teacher of the Bible. Columbanus set sail with twelve companions, and they crossed the channel via Cornwall and landed in Saint-Malo, Brittany. This is where he preached to the people and founded many monasteries of strict discipline. Women and visitors were not allowed to enter, and monks could eat in proportion to the amount of their labor.

As fearless as he was righteous, Columban once stormed onto a scene of debauchery and smashed the cask of alcohol. His objections were not confined to revelers either: He would tell bishops, kings, even popes, where he felt they went wrong. And he made enemies due to his criticism of local clergy whom he viewed as debased.

Columbanus and his companions were welcomed by King Guntram of Burgundy (Guntramnus), who granted them land at Anegray, where they converted a ruined Roman fortress into a school. Despite its remote location in the Vosges Mountains, the school rapidly attracted so many students that they moved to a new site at Luxeuil and then established a second school at Fontaines. These schools remained under Columbanus' authority, and their rules of life reflected the Celtic tradition in which he had been educated.

They had to keep silence most of the time, in order to be recollected with God and to avoid the sins of the tongue. As he said: 'Men like nothing better than discussing and minding the business of others, passing superfluous comments and random and criticizing people behind their back. So those who do not have a discerning tongue should keep silent, of if they do say anything, it should promote peace.'

During the last year of his life, Columbanus received messengers from King Chlothar II, inviting him to return to Burgundy, now that his enemies were dead. Columbanus did not return, but requested that the king should always protect his monks at Luxeuil Abbey. He prepared for death by retiring to his cave on the mountainside overlooking the Trebbia river, where, according to a tradition, he had dedicated an oratory to Our Lady. Columban died at Bobium, Kingdom of the Lombards on November 21, 615.

The Rule of Saint Columbanus embodied the customs of Bangor Abbey and other Irish monasteries. Much shorter than the Rule of Saint Benedict, the Rule of Saint Columbanus consists of ten chapters, on the subjects of obedience, silence, food, poverty, humility, chastity, choir offices, discretion, mortification, and perfection.

There are ten miracles attributed to Columban's intercession: from procuring food from a sick monk and curing the benefactor's wife, destroying with his breath a cauldron of beer prepared for a pagan festival, to taming a bear and yoking it to a plough.

The Missionary Society of Saint Columban, founded in 1916, and the Missionary Sisters of St. Columban, founded in 1924, are both dedicated to Columbanus.

[thefangirlthatwaited]

At Twilight (Chapter 22) - Legend of Zelda Story

Link X Original Character

“Let Beth know-” I stopped mid-sentence when a chill ran down my spine. I rushed to the window of the Sanctuary and saw that the sky had gone dark. I rushed outside to the still air and saw Malo and Beth looking up at the sky.

“You two, get back to the Inn now!” I yelled, pushing Luda that way, too.

“But Fae, look at the sky!” I followed Malo’s finger and saw the familiar portal Minda and Link used to fast travel around Hyrule. Except it wasn’t the normal teal that matched mine and Minda’s markings. No... This one was red, and I knew trouble was about to pour down on us.

“Malo, Beth, get inside now!” But it was too late. The portal above roared to life, dropping two shadow beasts. The two kids screamed as the beast turned towards them. I acted on instinct to protect them, diving in front of the attack and getting my gloves clawed off, revealing my markings. Beth and Malo hid behind me as the Shadow Beasts growled and hissed. 

“Fae,” Malo whimpered.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. I promise.” I looked around for a way out, but with the arrival of the Shadow Beasts, a barrier appeared as well, blocking our escape. I cursed at myself for leaving my sword at home. At least then, I could defend Malo and Beth better.

“MALO BETH!” From the entrance of the Inn stood Ilia looking horrified. “Fae, let them go!”

“This isn’t, Fae!” Beth yelled back. No, this wasn’t me, but who was the guilty one? A creepy laugh echoed around me, causing Beth and Malo to grip my sides tighter.

“Amazing how you can tame my beasts.” Tamed? Was that what was going on? “Then again, I should have never doubted the child of my God.” 

I yelped as a figure appeared between the Shadow Beasts. He was tall, taller than most men I’d seen. He wore black, baggy clothing decorated with turquoise Twilight symbols on the sleeves. The sleeves of his robe are long, with eight tassels on each sleeve hanging to the floor. He wears a ceremonial apron on his chest with a symbol I didn’t recognize. His face was obscured by a helmet that resembled a chameleon’s head.

“Who are you?” I hissed.

“Has the traitor not spoken of me? How shameful.” He sighed. Traitor... This man was Twili. I could tell by his clothes and if he commanded the Shadow Beasts. 

“Zant.” 

“She has spoken of me.” My eyes narrowed, and he laughed. “You remind me of her. Then again, my God chose her to bare you.”

“What do you want, Zant?”

HE chuckled, the tongue of his helmet receding to allow me to see his mouth in a crooked smile. “Why you, of course.”

I took a step back, pulling Malo and Beth closer. “Me?”

“My God is a benevolent one. He gave me this power to rule the Twili, and in return, he asked me to help him conquer the world of light.” Zant petted the Shadow Beasts while stepping closer. “He requested to bring his daughter home.”

My stomach lurched at the thought. “Never!” Zant disappeared and reappeared behind us, trapping us between him and the Shadow Beasts.

“You cannot escape, and why run? The powers you possess.” In my mind, I played out dozens of scenarios to get Malo and Beth out of harm’s way. Had I remembered my sword, I could have fought, but even Link lost the first battle against Zant. I knew what I had to do.

“I will go with you if you allow these two go free. They aren’t the ones you want.”

“Fae!”

“No!”

I kneeled and took one hand from each child. “I’ll be fine, but I made a promise. That you two would be safe, and I keep my promises.”

“But-”

I wiped a stray tear from Beth’s cheek. “Trust me?” They nodded. “Good.” I stood and faced Zant again. “Do we have a deal? I go with you, and you leave this village alone?”

“You would give your life for people who fear you?”

“Any day.”

“Very well.” Closing my eyes, I teleported Malo and Beth to Ilia, and Zant laughed. “Power indeed.” He closed the distance between us, his lips inches from my ear. “I wonder if my god would gift you to me as my bride once the world of light is his.” I swallowed down the bile that rose. “Only time will tell. Now we must go. My god is waiting.” In the blink of an eye, the village was gone, and we now stood in the throne room of Hyrule Castle.

“I have returned, my lord,” Zant said, bowing to the throne. I held my breath as the man from my nightmares stood. Now, I saw him complete for the first time. 

“My daughter, home at last.” He chuckled. “After our last meeting, I was surprised to be cut off from you completely. Has the hero managed to corrupt you?” 

Full Chapter on Ao3

[sweetsmalldog]

I don’t understand why people act like Techno was the feral member Antarctic Empire. Philza is right there guys.

Feral things Phil did in SMP Earth I can remember off the top of my head:

1. Dropped an airstrike on the Villiager Adoption agency after saying “Fuck the orphans” while Pete and Techno told him not to

2. Messaged Techno “We must become gods” when asking for an alliance

3. Led the Pilliagers to Tommy’s villagers when they showed up in the middle of negations for the Treaty of the Pit (Notably Techno told him not to)

4. Kidnapped Wilbur’s prized dog, tamed a different dog and made it look like Wilbur’s dog, let Wilbur think it was his dog, then kill the doplganger in front of Wilbur all to teach Wilbur a lesson about fucking with him.

5. Sent an airstrike down in the middle of a crowd during treaty talks because Tommy was annoying him.

6. Dropped an airstrike on Tommy’s base almost immediately after the Treaty of the Pit was signed and the Antarctic Empire was neutral with Tommy

7. Was the first person to point a weapon at Tommy during the initial peace talks after the Battle of the Pit

8. Asked FitMC to nuke Arlus for betraying him and the Antarctic Empire during the Saint-Malo trials and gave Fit the materials to make the nukes (End Crystals)

9. Stole 50 diamonds as revenge for Tommy rigging his Casino and having TimeDeo steal from Icebomb

10. Swooped out of the sky and one-shot Wilbur when Wilbur tried to run away with the Dragon Egg

11. Chased Slyvee down until she flew away during the Battle of the Pit despite having no idea what was going on because he wasn’t in the VC

[gizkalord]

rules: put your playlist on shuffle and write your favourite lyrics from the first 10 songs

tagged by @mlmanakin​  thanks!! :) also this is possibly the worst possible game for me because i am terrible at listening to lyrics and this game will force me to actually find out for the first time what they’re actually all saying lmao....

i. marigolds - kishi bashi

and when you burned the sentiment / like a candle next to mine / the southern wind it kept the flame / flickering in time

ii. the less i know the better - tame impala

oh my love, can't you see yourself by my side? / i don't suppose you could convince your lover to change his mind

iii. breathe deeper - tame impala

breathe a little deeper, should you need to come undone / and let those colors run

iv. havana - camila cabello

i knew him forever in a minute / that summer night in june / and papa says he got malo in him

v. la dame et ses valises - les amazones d’afrique

i see the way you work your hurt / because you’ve been inside that darkness for too long / woman don’t you know you’re a queen

vi. the test - BLUESOUND

look back, do you regret it too? / your fear has led you to dead ends

vii. destination - nickel creek

i've gotta make a destination / find where I'll be loved / this time I've got no hesitation / and I'll be movin' on

viii. your love - glass animals

that purple touch / everyone who sees you falls in love

ix. hayloft - mother mother (cover by nickel creek)

young lovers with their legs tied up in knots / with his long tall gun pop went a-creeping / to blow the hay loft dead head straight off

x. running red lights - the avalanches

i'm a thundercloud / ready to burst, like schrodinger

tagging: @bo-katan @soccialcreature @kasthoori and anyone else who sees this

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Spider-Man: The Darkest Hours Thoughts

Many years ago I was contacted by someone who recommended this novel to me and others from a Mary Jane fan point of view. You can read the recommendation here.

Whilst I own the novel and started it at least twice for whatever reason I stopped reading it before the start of the first big action set piece. However since Dreamscape audio released the novel on audiobook I’ve finally been able to experience it for myself.

So how’d it fair? SPOILERS ahead

I don’t usually do this these days but because this story is relatively obscure I’m going to provide a synopsis. Or more accurately marvel.wiki is:

“Even though he is a chemistry teacher, Peter Parker has now been forced to be a substitute basketball coach over at Midtown High where he works. His ineptness soon negatively draws the attention of basketball star Samuel Larkin, who challenges Peter and refuses to cooperate with his own teammates. Going over the player's records, Peter soon discovers that Larkin has not taken all of the required vaccines needed to play at the school, which will mean his automatic expulsion from the team for the remainder of the season, as well as dwindle his chances of getting a scholarship to a good university.

After a long day of coaching, Peter returns home and discovers that Mary Jane has won a part as Lady Macbeth in Shakespeare's Macbeth. However, the play is held in Atlantic City, so in order to compensate for the long drive, MJ bought a car despite not having a driver's license, let alone any idea how to drive. They began discussing whether or not Peter should teach her. In the middle of the talk, however, the Rhino attacks Times Square, so Peter leaves to go fight him as Spider-Man.

While on the way there, Spider-Man runs into Black Cat, who claims the rampage is a trap and that Peter should not go. He ignores her warning, though, and continues to head there. Peter easily defeats Rhino, knocking him unconscious in the process. Just as he does, however, the siblings of Morlun - Thanis, Malos, and Mortia - appear. They blame Spider-Man for their brother's death despite the Other being the true person who ripped his throat out, and now want revenge by killing him. Spidey initially flees, but with the help of a SWAT team and Black Cat he eventually takes them on (he also seeks help from Doctor Strange but is declined, with Strange asserting that his interference would harm the cosmic balance). Mary Jane comes to the fight scene and becomes jealous that Felicia is able to help Peter fight the siblings, as well as how the siblings are treating her husband. Enraged, she takes her car and runs Morlun's siblings over, distracting them and giving Spider-Man the time needed to banish them to a barren netherworld using three trinkets Strange had secretly arranged to be given to him.”

Let me get some admissions out of the way.

a)      I’ve not read a ton of Spider-Man/comic book based novels, although I own the majority of the Spider-Man ones that Wikipedia claim exist. I dunno why, I just never manage to get around to them for whatever reason. Perhaps it’s because comic book superheroes being designed for a visual medium which so often emphasises action makes the jump to prose (or in this case audio) difficult. Indeed I must admit when reading/listening I do zone out a bit when action scenes occur.

b)      I’m not familiar with the work of Jim Butcher although I hear great things

c)       I’d actually forgotten the specifics of the recommendation for this book. I just remember it was recommended and it was because it should feed the MJ fan/shipper in me and others. Forgetting this was lucky actually as it allowed me to enjoy some aspects of the books I’d otherwise have not been surprised by.

Let’s also get the technical aspects out of the way since this is an audio book I am discussing.

The narrator, Jack Meloche is...okay...mostly.

I find his performance of Peter a little too nasaly and early on in the audiobook you do have to kind of power through his performances of Mary Jane and especially Felicia. By the end of the story I grew to tolerate them but never love them. Hearing a grown ass man do his best to convey a sultry kinda sorta femme fatale can be a bit cringe inducing I must admit. His best performance is as the Rhino though.

Other things you should know is that this novel is loosely in continuity with ‘Spider-Man: Drowned in Thunder’ (which I talked about here),

https://hellzyeahwebwieldingreviews.tumblr.com/post/140091613524/spider-man-drowned-in-thunder-my-thoughts

another novel from the same range of books. It was published and is set after the events of this novel and both are set chronologically during the J. Michael Straczynski ASM run prior to Spider-Man joining the New Avengers.

I’ll be upfront with you I found ‘Drowned in Thunder’ to be better for the most part and downright ingenious. It did not however use Mary Jane as much or as critically as this story. She was important but didn’t have as big of a role as she does here. Does that make one novel better or worse than the other? Neither, they’re just different. It’s healthy to mix up the emphasis certain supporting characters get after all.

Looking at ‘Darkest Hours’ on it’s own merits for the most part it nails the characters in terms of the sentiments but my personal problems with it are in the presentation at times. Not even all the time just some of the time.

Let me put it more clearly.

There is exactly one scene featuring Aunt May, specifically a phone conversation. And this phone conversation progresses into a very involved inspirational speech from May to Peter about how awesome he is as a person/hero and the scene’s drama stems from the fact that Peter might be fighting his last battle soon after this. Are the sentiments Aunt May expressing in character? Of course. Are these things she would say? Yes!...but...I felt it was kind of...off that her one scene in the whole story is her showing up and giving the most involved inspirational speech Spider-Man has ever gotten from her or anyone else. Spider-Man 2’s backyard scene was tame by comparison. I just feel it would’ve been better for May to have both featured in some way prior to that scene and for the speech to have been dialled back a bit.

Much more relevantly though is the book’s handling of Peter and MJ’s relationship.

Throughout the novels there are scenes of Peter and Mary Jane being very much in love. The most common way this is expressed is via Peter complimenting Mary Jane in his head.

Would Peter feel this way about Mary Jane. 100% yes! But...I don’t know if it was the vocal performance, the fact that we have this back in the comics now, or really JUST me but personally I kinda...cringed a bit.

I’m not saying it’s bad!

I’m not even saying it could be better!

I’m sure there are many readers who adore this.

I’m not well versed in romance fiction so maybe I’m missing something here and actually it’s perfectly acceptable or great writing.

I’m saying just for me personally again...I’d have wanted it dialled back. It just got a little much, a little cringey for me personally.

But you know that happened sometimes in the JMS run which I loved and agree with everyone else wrote the marriage better than it has ever been written.

Speaking of Straczynski we really need to talk about his Spider-Man work.

Commonly original Spider-Man novels (i.e. not novelizations) that are trying to vaguely present themselves as being canon (so we aren’t talking about stuff like ‘Hostile Takeover’ set in the Marvel Gamerverse) try to have synergy with the status quo of the day or a very recent one.

This novel is no exception. My research tells me it was published in 2006 and whilst it’s not reflective of the then status quo of the comics where Spider-Man was unmasked and a member of the Avengers, it is reflective of the dominant status quo immediately preceding that which ended circa 2004-2005.

To refresh your memory that involves Peter being a teacher at Midtown High, Mary Jane being an aspiring stage actress who recently reconciled with Peter, and both Aunt May and Black Cat knowing his secret. To drive the point home about just when this novel is set there is an entire dialogue exchange discussing the idea of him hypothetically  joining the Avengers. A discussion that in my eyes throws some wonderful shade at the idea.

This is the same status quo that ‘Drowned in Thunder’ was set during but ‘Darkest Hours’ hardcore embraces  this status quo in a way ‘Drowned in Thunder’ never did. ‘Drowned in Thunder’ if anything drew more from the Paul Jenkins PPSM run than JMS’ run and exempting Aunt May being in on the secret felt like with a few changes it could’ve exorcised every other element of his run. Peter’s teaching job was a factor in the story but it was used as a brilliant and organic segue way into a Bugle/Jonah centric investigation.

‘Darkest Hours’ though...doesn’t do that.

Rather it is practically a lost arc from JMS’ run. No, not his ‘era’ wherein we’re talking about every title during his time in charge. I mean that if this was a comic book story it could’ve been straight up slotted in directly before or after ‘Sins Past’ and no one would’ve batted an eye.

The way the story tries to handle Peter’s marriage to Mary Jane, Peter’s teaching job, the inclusion of Doctor Strange and Dex, the potted history of Ezekiel, the direct references to Shathra and friggin ASM #500, and of course Morlun’s siblings. This FEELS like the JMS run!

And for a lot of people that’s going to be a huge deal breaker for this novel.

In my experience of Spider-Man fandom whilst there is a lot of appreciation of JMS’ run it was divisive for various reasons. A lot of people just for whatever reason turned off by Peter being a teacher (or more accurately not being a photographer for the Bugle) and recoil even more over the presence of mystical elements like Morlun or Doctor Strange.

Now if you liked or tolerated that stuff then this novel is a hidden gem of sorts, whether you want a shot of nostalgia or just found that stuff compelling.

Me personally, I liked the first half of the JMS run for the most part. And Jesus Christ looking back at it after what we got after he left it’s a Hell of a lot better.

Say what you want about Ezekiel and Peter being a teacher but I’d take that stuff over fucking Superior Spider-Man and Parker Industries!

Of course the elephant in the room regarding this novel in the modern day is that it predates Spider-Verse and Spider-Geddon as stories establishing Morlun had a family.

And...did...it...BETTER!

In Spider-Verse/Geddon Morlun was the main character and his family had unbearably simplistic personalities that boiled down to being variant action figures of him!

Now don’t get it twisted. Mortia and her brothers are a million miles away from the greatest villains in Spider-Man history. In fact they have LESS personality than Morlun did.

And yet in context this actually works for the story more effectively than in Spider-Verse/Geddon.

Morlun as originally presented was essentially a very eloquent predator and a hunter, not quit a full on force of nature but close to it. He was intimidating because he really didn’t do anything besides hunt Spider-Man and want to eat him.

Where Spider-Verse/Geddon failed was in reintroducing Morlun and then immediately watering him down by having him appear alongside his variant action figure family with moments and even back up stories told specifically from their POVs. Sure JMS gave us moments focussing on Morlun’s character outside of Spider-Man or Morlun, but they existed to introduce  the character and briefly build him up before we realize just how utterly outclassed Spider-Man is against him. When we already know who the Hell Morlun is we don’t need scenes focussing upon him because he isn’t a character who can support that level of attention. Nor should he be because he’s SUPPOSED to be a one not hunting and killing machine basically.

That’s why this novel makes better use of ‘the Ancients’ than S-V/G made of ‘the Inheritors’. We don’t have scenes from their POV thus they can basically be what Morlun was when Spider-Man first met him. Ruthless predators on the hunt, except now there are three of them so Spider-Man is truly screwed!

The plot cleverly focuses instead on the characters who have to DEAL with the impending threat the Ancients pose rather than trying to pretend these guys have actual characters. Butcher also makes them much scarier than the Inheritors because rather than monsters who basically just port in wherever and kill indiscriminately, the Ancients have riches and resources. They are a part of society and Peter is racing against the clock hoping those resources don’t zero in on who he is and where his family lives. This dread, this tension is delectable and far more effective than what Slott of Gage ever did. It helps that we actually see Peter reacting believably to the pressure and stress of his potential demise rather than be a generic and passive as he was in Spider-Verse.

Also the fact they appear alone rather than alongside Morlun is better too as it means Morlun doesn’t look less unique and they look less like variant action figures.

Additionally Butcher does a great job fleshing out the backstory to the Ancients, helping to integrate them well into the established Marvel Universe, developing their abilities and how they worked. Hell he even remembered how they were supposed to work as JMS defined them rather than how Spider-Verse and Spider-Geddon just ignored these abilities and did whatever they wanted. For instance Butcher establishes clearly the Ancients CAN feed off of life forms other than Spider-Man as opposed to S-V/G just having them do that with no explanation and feed off of just anyone. Butcher also remembered Morlun saying that eating Peter would sustain him for a looooooong time and incorporated it into the plot. Similarly he provided a clear explanation for why Spider-Man couldn’t simply use the same trick he used against Morlun again (because he’s outnumbered!) or get help from other heroes like Doctor Strange. Speaking of which we got one of the best ever explanations for how magic works in the Marvel Universe ever. Wasn’t expecting that nor for Wong to be so delightful!

The only real misstep Butcher makes as far as the Ancients are concerned is the idea of the Rhino being a potential snack for them when he never got his powers from a real rhino or anything like that. He was even referenced as one of the pretenders to totem powers by Ezekiel. I guess you could that the Lizard (who was also referenced) should  count so...whatever the rules aren’t clear here.

Let’s leave our main villains behind and talk instead about our more grey characters.

So yeah...Jim Butcher wrote one of the all time great Rhino stories here!

Again wasn’t expecting that!

The Rhino in Aunt May’s home breaking bread with Spider-Man is so insane an image that you’d love it for the absurdity alone, but Butcher makes it totally organic. He also keeps Rhino in character (with the exception of a time he refused to kill Spider-Man which I don’t remember being a real story) and fleshes him out rather wonderfully. He draws some great parallels between Rhino and Spider-Man and frankly the scene where Mary Jane is literally shaking with laughter over these comparisons is unquestionably the highlight of the whole novel!

What was really great was that Butcher didn’t change the Rhino or compromise him. He’s still a mercenary, he’s still not really a good guy, but he’s more human. He doesn’t like Spider-Man, he wants to beat him, but he also on a certain level respects him.

It’s just expertly done!

Then there is Felicia. Had Spencer not already fixed Felicia this story would’ve ignited fury within me. Not because this was bad but rather that this story used Felicia so wonderfully that BND and Slott’s ruination of her would’ve stung all the more.

Felicia is purrrrrrrfect here!

Not quite good, not quite bad, sultry, catty, territorial, smart, aggressive, dangerous, loyal. Butcher NAILED her character!

The fact he uses her to open up a philosophical debate about the differences and moral justifications between Peter, herself and the Rhino is inspired. There are differences but the lines aren’t as clear cut as Peter treats them as. In a sense he really does have a bit of a double standard in regards to her and everyone else. This isn’t the only time Butcher brings out Peter’s flaws very well. The scene where Peter has momentary lapses into light machismo are well done. Spider-Man is a hero but he ain’t perfect that’s why we love him!

This brings us to Felicia and Mary Jane. Sorry...I love it. Maybe it’s problematic, maybe it’s problematic that I do love it...but I just do.

Okay from a strict continuity point of view Butcher puts MJ and Felicia at greater odds than they really should be. By this point in time there were tensions but there was also friendship. Truth be told Butcher puts that friendliness in there but only at the very end of MJ and Felicia’s arc together and the resolution to the tensions are off-page. And yet...what can I say the pure soap opera of it was fun for me on a very base level. Who says marriage is free of tension again?????

The peak of my enjoyment was when the pair were just unrestrained hurling insults at one another. Again, shallow I know, but it was just fun for me and I really loved Peter having to step up and be the grown up in that situation and coldly let everyone know where they all stand. MJ doesn’t get to talk to Felicia that way because she’s their friend. Felicia doesn’t get to talk to MJ that way because she’s his wife.

This brings us to Mary Jane herself. Apart from again the romance stuff for me personally going a bit too far she’s mostly done very well. She’s supportive, she has a subplot of her own dealing with a real life problem (learning to drive), she makes mistakes, she’s great at analysing Peter,  and helping figure things out via being a confidant. Oh and she totally saves the day at the end. No straight up she does. If not for MJ the day would’ve been lost and Spider-Man would’ve been dead.

It was such a baller as fuck scene I am slightly pissed off that it wasn’t realized as a comic. Her throwing shade at Doctor Strange was also priceless.

The final thing to mention is the subplot involving one of Peter’s students.

I am once again going to draw comparisons to both the JMS run and ‘Drowned in Thunder’ as they are apt here.

Okay basically strictly speaking the subplot regarding Peter helping one of his underprivileged kids retain a spot on the basketball team was a weak spot of the storytelling. Not because it was necessarily bad (though a 30something trying to write ‘inner city youths’ leaves something to be desired) but because it really didn’t tie into the main plot all that much.

In ‘Drowned in Thunder’ Peter’s teaching job was integrated seamlessly.

But in this you could tweak the novel and exorcise the whole subplot. It’s relevance really is mostly thematic (Peter and the kid both need to embrace team work to succeed) and to illustrate character traits of Peter Parker. He’s so responsible he would still make time to help out this poor student even whilst his life is potentially ticking away. Nor will he abandon this kid to save his own skin, even though the kid’s physical life might not be endangered at all if he did.

Now that all being said I LIKE the subplot’s inclusion. Not only because it does demonstrate Peter’s character and the lesson he needs to learn for this story, but because I view it as part and parcel of this book’s mission to be a lost JMS story.

Really the subplot could’ve been one of the handful of stories told during the JMS run concerning Peter helping out his impoverished students. If viewed as part and parcel of trying to capture the ‘flavour’ of the era the subplot succeeds.

Finally I must say I loved Peter’s words of defiance before his possible demise.

Over all I’d say this was a very strong story. Okay, as an over all package not quite as good as ‘Drowned in Thunder’ but still up there, with moments and aspects that are as good if not superior to the latter.

Highly recommended.

P.S. I can’t believe we got development and a great use out of Dex of all the obscure characters out there!

[penguinonmars]

Aquellos ojos verdes

I keep this picture on the wall of my room, it was gift from Gloria, my beloved friend from Viareggio. We are big fans of Mucha’s style and his mystical poster girls. The ethereal glamour of art nouveau captured. But aside from the beauty of the picture this red headed beast-taming babe speaks to me about my history with women who wield stares like they’re guns.

I often speak to Gloria about my grandmother Lupita. The one who told me that you should always test a car before you buy it (have sex before getting married), or to always keep candles lit, because you never know (have options). In part I shared these tales with Gloria because her grandma is also like that. Asking Gloria once about the penis size of a wealthy boyfriend she used to have. Rich and big dick? Keep him. We both come from a legacy of fiery women.

But I also tell her these stories because somehow Gloria reminds me of my mother. They’re both sea witches. Sharing the story of the strong vieja chingona who struggled to feel understood in her small coast town. She would kill for those dunes, but couldn’t stay there for long. Going against what her mother wanted, expected, smothered. She carries wounds of the rage that carried her out of it all. Or at least that’s the narrative I imagine.

And so, in a way, projecting my family’s history on my friend has made me inhabit a particular closeness to her. Seeing how some gestures or stories pull   invisible threads to Norma, my mother, and Lupe and Guaymas. And so, naturally, with this strings at play, I knew it was an act of magic when the girl from Viareggio gave me a beautiful post card of a woman with penetrating green eyes, round face and an inviting yet intense gesture. That’ my grandmother. Those fierce eyes would look at me when I was a child and sing to me songs about woodcutters being fed bones because they wanted cheese.

Lupita hated to be called abuela, she preferred something sweeter, abuelita. She was sharp, practical and a big romantic. Not your poster of a cookie baking sweet abuelita.

For several years we shared a room. I liked being servile and quiet around her, I remember enjoying so much when she said I was considerate and nice and handsome. I loved paying the small price of chores for the devotion. Of course I was greedy about it, and I secretly enjoyed when she compared me to my less tamed sister. But being put on a pedestal has always made me mean. To this day I remember with some shame that I once yelled at her. I was probably eight and my parents were giving me trouble for something and I told a lie, and my grandma, bullshit detector as she was, caught me on the lie and I was furious. I raged and cried and screamed that she didn’t know anything. I remember I was so mad and throwing a tantrum. I made her cry. Petty spoiled brat. I don’t remember the consequences of this story, but the scene comes back at me sometimes.

Desde que me acuerdo, la gente habla de lo bonitos que eran sus ojos. Verdes verdes. Nos contaba que para ir a los bailes, se echaba unas gotas de limón para que le brillaran toda la noche. Llevaba una libretita para anotar la larga lista de hombres en fila que le pedían una pieza para bailar. Le encantaba hablar de sus ligues. Algún marino muy guapo en Veracruz. Algún abogado catrín que le llevaba flores. Una vez nos contó de uno con el que la cosa iba seria, llevaban meses y en un evento público (el muy pendejo) le gritoneó. Mi abuela ya se había visto con él para largo pero eso no se lo toleró. Nunca más lo volvió a ver. Te tiras en la cama a llorar dos días y al tercero te poner guapa y a salir como si nada, nos dijo una vez. A lo que sigue.

Los ojazos de Lupita no solo eran verdes y bellos, también eran amenazantes. Aún en el tiempo que le costaba mucho trabajo pararse y necesitaba ayuda para comer, su mirada era altiva, orgullosa. Muchas veces no tenía necesidad de hablar, una inflexión de la ceja era suficiente para saber que alguna regla de etiqueta se había roto, que el piso necesitaba una tercera trapeada o solo para desarmar. Un sentado de pierna cruzada regio desde el que un dedo apuntaba a toda la familia qué hacer aquí, allá, qué tan fina la cebolla, qué tanto hervor al caldo.

Ella y las navidades me hicieron encontrar el sitio más íntimo del hogar al sentarse a picar ingredientes. Donde se vuelven a contar los mismos mitos fundacionales de la familia una y otra vez. El bis abuelo boticario que fue rico pero no supo actualizar el negocio a tiempo. Mamá Bertha que ponía a todas las muchachas a limpiar cuadro por cuadro del piso con una jerga. La vez que de niña, mi mamá iba tarde a la escuela y mi abuela la puso a lavarse los dientes con algo que no hacía espuma y que después de muchas quejas resultó ser pomada para las rozaduras. La manzana se tenía que picar finita para el puré pero no tanto que se hiciera nada.

Durante los años en los que compartíamos cuarto, Lupita me llevaba a la cerámica con ella por las tardes. Básicamente era un club de señoras que se conocían del colegio de sus hijos y se juntaban a pintar sobre figurines kitsch de cerámica mientras chismeaban. La especialidad de mi abuela fueron primero las bailarinas, luego migró a las fachadas de casas tipo california del siglo XIX y las mujeres morenas con cántaros en la cabeza. Alguna vez pinté yo también, hice una ranita y un osito. Me acuerdo que era un proceso largo de muchas capas. No entendía porque la rana no podía ser solo verde y ya. Quien daba las clases y en verdad sabía hacer las cosas era Arturo. Se referían a Arturo con pronombres masculinos. Arturo llevaba el pelo largo y pintado, blusas floreadas, pechos, uñas pintadas y casi siempre mucho maquillaje. Mi abuela se llevaba bien con Arturo y nunca me dijo nada malo. Recuerdo tener mucha curiosidad y hacer preguntas de por qué Arturo se veía así. Sus respuestas solían estar del lado de encogerse de hombros sin sobresalto y no darle importancia.

Solíamos ver la tele juntos. Ventaneando y alguna que otra telenovela. En una de las telenovelas había un personaje gay y recuerdo que una vez que dijo que a “esos” había que tenerles respeto porque se podían poner muy bravos si los molestaban. No sé si me notaba la manita caída pero recuerdo sentir una especie de tranquilidad a su no-rechazo.

Por mucho tiempo mucho tiempo mi abuelita nos dijo a mi hermana y a mí que ella quería vivir para ver a ella casarse y a mí graduándome con barba. No sé si decía eso por cánones de género o si porque ya se veía venir cómo me iba a ir en el amor. Pero igual el 13 de septiembre del 2019 me gradué de una maestría en ciencias e ingeniería con una barba a medio crecer. Aquí sigues, Pi. En las historias que soy y que cuento. En la postal en mi pared. En mis amigas incondicionales. En la mirada penetrante.

[sidlyrics]

Aoi renga

Letra / Lyrics: Mao Música / Music: Shinji

青いレンガ

国道沿い少し入った　青いレンガ　目印 あの人の住む部屋へ　続いてるこの道 終わりました

たった一度だけ　食事誘ってくれましたね ヒット曲と周りの目　騒がしいお店

年の差がそんなに悪いことですか？ いいえ　きっと　悪いのはそう　遅れて来た私のほう

京浜線走る頃は　決まって傍に居ない 慣れるまで傍にいて　残り香の腕枕 世の中が言う幸せから　遠いところで眠る さっきまで居た人に　逢えるなら何度でも　託しました

こんな私でも　相応しくなる為になら 苦手だったショートにもしたり　それなのに

隣には長い髪の綺麗な人 全部嘘と　気づくのがそう　怖かっただけでした

このままでも十分だと　言い聞かせては　涙 悪いのは私です　遅れて来た私です それでもあの人の中に　残す為の支度を 京浜線に揺られ　思い出は各駅に　捨ててきました

国道沿い少し入った　青いレンガ　目印 あの人と住む部屋へ　続いてるこの道 私の想いと一緒ね　一方通行です わかってる　最後まで　都合の悪い子で　終わりました

Aoi renga

kokudouzoi sukoshi haitta　　aoi RENGA　　mejirushi ano hito no sumu heya e　　tsuzuiteru kono michi owarimashita

tatta ichido dake　　shokuji sasotte kuremashita ne HIT kyoku to mawari no me　　sawagashii omise

toshi no sa ga sonna ni warui koto desu ka? iie　　kitto　　warui no wa sou　　okurete kita watashi no hou

keihinsen hashiru koro wa　　kimatte soba ni inai nareru made soba ni ite　　nokoriga no udemakura yo no naka ga iu shiawase kara 　tooi tokoro de nemuru sakki made ita hito ni　　aeru nara nando demo　　takushimashita

konna watashi demo　　fusawashiku naru tame ni nara nigate datta SHOT ni mo shitari　　sore na no ni

tonari ni wa nagai kami no kirei na hito zenbu uso to　　kizuku no ga sou　　kowakatta dake deshita

kono mama demo juubun da to　　ii kikasete wa　　namida warui no wa watashi desu　　okurete kita watashi desu sore demo ano hito no naka ni　　nokosu tame no shitaku wo keihinsen ni yurare　　omoide wa kakueki ni　　sutetekimashita

kokudouzoi sukoshi haitta　　aoi RENGA　　mejirushi ano hito to sumu heya e　　tsuzuiteru kono michi watashi no omoi to issho ne　　ippoutsuukou desu wakatteru　　saigo made　　tsugou no warui ko de　　owarimashita

Blue bricks

A little way down the national highway, marked by blue bricks This continuous path leading to where he lives Has ended

You've only taken me out for dinner once Hit songs and public scrutiny; a noisy shop

Is our age difference such a bad thing? No, surely, the one at fault is ― yes ― me, for being the latecomer

It's been decided that you won't be at my side when the Keihin line runs Stay with me until I'm used to that, pillowed on your arm on which your scent lingers Asleep somewhere far away from the happiness society speaks of For the sake of meeting him, who was here until just now, I entrusted him again and again

If it's to match up with you, even I Would have taken a SHOT at what I was weak at, and yet

There's a beautiful woman with long hair at your side I was ― yes ― simply afraid that I'd realise it's all a lie

You warning me that 'even our current situation is enough' brings tears I'm the one to blame. I'm the one who came late. Even so, I made preparations to leave some part of myself in him Swaying along the Keihin line, I abandoned memories at every station

A little way down the national highway, marked by blue bricks This continuous path leading to him and to where he lives Is a one-way street like my feelings I understand. At the last, it ended with the child who inconvenienced him

Ladrillos azules

Un poco más adelante por la carretera nacional, marcado con ladrillos azules, este camino continuo que se dirige a donde él vive se ha acabado.

Solo me has llevado a cenar por ahí una vez. Canciones populares y escrutinio público; una tienda ruidosa.

¿Nuestra diferencia de edad es algo tan malo? No, seguramente, la única culpable sea -sí- yo, por ser una tardona.

Se ha decidido que no estés a mi lado cuando se abra la línea Keihin. Quédate conmigo hasta que me acostumbre, usando como almohada tu brazo en el que se ha quedado tu olor. Dormida en algún lugar lejos de la felicidad de la que habla la sociedad. Para verle a él, que estaba aquí hasta hace un momento, confié en él una y otra vez.

Si es para estar a tu altura, hasta yo habría intentado mejorar en lo que era débil, y aun así

hay una hermosa mujer de pelo largo a tu lado. Estaba -sí- simplemente asustada de darme cuenta de que todo es una mentira.

Tu aviso de que "incluso nuestra situación actual es suficiente" trae lágrimas a mis ojos. Yo soy la culpable. Yo soy la que llegó tarde. Aun así, hice los preparativos para dejar una parte de mí en él. Balanceándome a lo largo de la línea Keihin, fui dejando recuerdos en cada estación.

Un poco más adelante por la carretera nacional, marcado con ladrillos azules, este camino continuo que se dirige a él y a donde él vive es una calle de sentido único como mis sentimientos. Lo entiendo. Al final, acabó con la cría que le causaba molestias.

Kanji, English: Gurakko Romaji: Jpopasia Español: Reila

[algolejos]

Aquellos ojos verdes

I keep this picture on the wall of my room, it was gift from Gloria, my beloved friend from Viareggio. We are big fans of Mucha’s style and his mystical poster girls. The ethereal glamour of art nouveau captured. But aside from the beauty of the picture this red headed beast-taming babe speaks to me about my history with women who wield stares like they’re guns.

I often speak to Gloria about my grandmother Lupita. The one who told me that you should always test a car before you buy it (have sex before getting married), or to always keep candles lit, because you never know (have options). In part I shared these tales with Gloria because her grandma is also like that. Asking Gloria once about the penis size of a wealthy boyfriend she used to have. Rich and big dick? Keep him. We both come from a legacy of fiery women.

But I also tell her these stories because somehow Gloria reminds me of my mother. They’re both sea witches. Sharing the story of the strong vieja chingona who struggled to feel understood in her small coast town. She would kill for those dunes, but couldn’t stay there for long. Going against what her mother wanted, expected, smothered. She carries wounds of the rage that carried her out of it all. Or at least that’s the narrative I imagine. 

And so, in a way, projecting my family’s history on my friend has made me inhabit a particular closeness to her. Seeing how some gestures or stories pull   invisible threads to Norma, my mother, and Lupe and Guaymas. And so, naturally, with this strings at play, I knew it was an act of magic when the girl from Viareggio gave me a beautiful post card of a woman with penetrating green eyes, round face and an inviting yet intense gesture. That’ my grandmother. Those fierce eyes would look at me when I was a child and sing to me songs about woodcutters being fed bones because they wanted cheese.

Lupita hated to be called abuela, she preferred something sweeter, abuelita. She was sharp, practical and a big romantic. Not your poster of a cookie baking sweet abuelita.

For several years we shared a room. I liked being servile and quiet around her, I remember enjoying so much when she said I was considerate and nice and handsome. I loved paying the small price of chores for the devotion. Of course I was greedy about it, and I secretly enjoyed when she compared me to my less tamed sister. But being put on a pedestal has always made me mean. To this day I remember with some shame that I once yelled at her. I was probably eight and my parents were giving me trouble for something and I told a lie, and my grandma, bullshit detector as she was, caught me on the lie and I was furious. I raged and cried and screamed that she didn’t know anything. I remember I was so mad and throwing a tantrum. I made her cry. Petty spoiled brat. I don’t remember the consequences of this story, but the scene comes back at me sometimes.

Desde que me acuerdo, la gente habla de lo bonitos que eran sus ojos. Verdes verdes. Nos contaba que para ir a los bailes, se echaba unas gotas de limón para que le brillaran toda la noche. Llevaba una libretita para anotar la larga lista de hombres en fila que le pedían una pieza para bailar. Le encantaba hablar de sus ligues. Algún marino muy guapo en Veracruz. Algún abogado catrín que le llevaba flores. Una vez nos contó de uno con el que la cosa iba seria, llevaban meses y en un evento público (el muy pendejo) le gritoneó. Mi abuela ya se había visto con él para largo pero eso no se lo toleró. Nunca más lo volvió a ver. Te tiras en la cama a llorar dos días y al tercero te poner guapa y a salir como si nada, nos dijo una vez. A lo que sigue.

Los ojazos de Lupita no solo eran verdes y bellos, también eran amenazantes. Aún en el tiempo que le costaba mucho trabajo pararse y necesitaba ayuda para comer, su mirada era altiva, orgullosa. Muchas veces no tenía necesidad de hablar, una inflexión de la ceja era suficiente para saber que alguna regla de etiqueta se había roto, que el piso necesitaba una tercera trapeada o solo para desarmar. Un sentado de pierna cruzada regio desde el que un dedo apuntaba a toda la familia qué hacer aquí, allá, qué tan fina la cebolla, qué tanto hervor al caldo.

Ella y las navidades me hicieron encontrar el sitio más íntimo del hogar al sentarse a picar ingredientes. Donde se vuelven a contar los mismos mitos fundacionales de la familia una y otra vez. El bis abuelo boticario que fue rico pero no supo actualizar el negocio a tiempo. Mamá Bertha que ponía a todas las muchachas a limpiar cuadro por cuadro del piso con una jerga. La vez que de niña, mi mamá iba tarde a la escuela y mi abuela la puso a lavarse los dientes con algo que no había espuma y que después de muchas quejas resultó ser pomada para las rozaduras. La manzana se tenía que picar finita para el puré pero no tanto que se hiciera nada.

Durante los años en los que compartíamos cuarto, Lupita me llevaba a la cerámica con ella por las tardes. Básicamente era un club de señoras que se conocían del colegio de sus hijos y se juntaban a pintar sobre figurines kitsch de cerámica mientras chismeaban. La especialidad de mi abuela fueron primero las bailarinas, luego migró a las fachadas de casas tipo california del siglo XIX y las mujeres morenas con cántaros en la cabeza. Alguna vez pinté yo también, hice una ranita y un osito. Me acuerdo que era un proceso largo de muchas capas. No entendía porque la rana no podía ser solo verde y ya. Quien daba las clases y en verdad sabía hacer las cosas era Arturo. Se referían a Arturo con pronombres masculinos. Arturo llevaba el pelo largo y pintado, blusas floreadas, pechos, uñas pintadas y casi siempre mucho maquillaje. Mi abuela se llevaba bien con Arturo y nunca me dijo nada malo. Recuerdo tener mucha curiosidad y hacer preguntas de por qué Arturo se veía así. Sus respuestas solían estar del lado de encogerse de hombros sin sobresalto y no darle importancia.

Solíamos ver la tele juntos. Ventaneando y alguna que otra telenovela. En una de las telenovelas había un personaje gay y recuerdo que una vez que dijo que a “esos” había que tenerles respeto porque se podían poner muy bravos si los molestaban. No sé si me notaba la manita caída pero recuerdo sentir una especie de tranquilidad a su no-rechazo.

Por mucho tiempo mucho tiempo mi abuelita nos dijo a mi hermana y a mí que ella quería vivir para ver a ella casarse y a mí graduándome con barba. No sé si decía eso por cánones de género o si porque ya se veía venir cómo me iba a ir en el amor. Pero igual el 13 de septiembre del 2019 me gradué de una maestría en ciencias e ingeniería con una barba a medio crecer. Aquí sigues, Pi. En las historias que soy y que cuento. En la postal en mi pared. En mis amigas incondicionales. En la mirada penetrante.