#i was revisiting the thought that their pink comes from an important woman figure in their lives | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atomicblasphemy · 3 years

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Eda becomes some kind of flying taxi service

Amity: So I told Malphas he needed to have a talk with Gary about our coffee break space.

Emira: Mhmm.

Amity: I mean, for one, Gary never cleans after himself. Like, I once saw him leaving his mug dirty for over a week. A WEEK. It was disgusting. It was just sitting dare on the table for days. I didn’t want to clean it, I’m not a doormate. But it was dire and I had no choice. And don’t get me started on the fridge situation. My lunch has been getting smaller by the day and I can’t seem to figure out the culprit.

Emira: That’s nice, Mittens. Isn’t it nice, Edric?

Edric: What?

Amity: Will you guys pay attention? I need some advice on...

*Windows cracking”

Edric: What the...

Hooty: AMITY FELICITY BLIGHT! IT IS I, HOOTCIFER, HARBINGER OF THY DESTINY. COME WITH ME AND I SHALL REVEAL WHAT JOYS THE FUTURE HOLDS FOR THEE.

Amity: I... What?

Hooty: DOTH THOU DARE DEFY FATE? *Swallows Amity*

Emira: ... What just happened? Wasn’t that Eda’s house demon? You know, the one we met before Grom?

Edric: I think it was. I’m not sure though, he sounded more... ominous...

SEVERAL EMOTIONAL MOMENTS LATER

Luz: It’s early... Do you really have to go already?

Amity: Yeah... I still have to finish homework, and I have work tomorrow. But I’ll come back here tomorrow... If you’re okay with it, that is...

Luz: YES! I mean... yeah, I’d love that...

Amity: Anyway... I guess I should get going, we’re not exactly neighbors after all. See you tomorrow then.

Luz: Wait, I have an idea. *Turns around* EDA!

Eda: *Not stopping her flight practice* What?

Luz: Do you think you could give Amity a lift back to her place?

Eda: Oh? Not walking your girlfriend home? Thought you’d be more chivalrous.

Luz: *Showing that Amity’s tomato like properties are infectious* EDAAA!

Eda: Sorry, sorry. But yeah, sure. *Picks up Amity and flies away at neckbreaking speeds. She soon slows down to a more reasonable pace* So... Amity, before I give you that whole “What are your intentions?” scare there’s something I’ve been itching to ask you. What made you chose to dye your hair of all colors, and how did Odd-alia react?

Amity: Luz... Me... Girlfriend...

Eda: Ugh... Don’t make me regret making harmless fun of young love, kiddo.

ONE AWKWARD TAXI EDA FLYING SESSION LATER.

Eda: *Placing Amity on the Blight Manor’s front porch and looking at the two bewildered faces watching her* Sup. *Turns to fly away* Oh right, I guess purple here is in not in the mental state to give any explanations.

Amity: Small ceremony... Human realm... Only friends and family... Boscha is not invited...

Emira: Are you... Edalyn Clawthorne?

Eda: Last I checked I was.

Emira: You look different.

Eda: Oh right... Look, it was a very eventful night so let me start with the simpler one. King, you remember him, right? Tiny, angry, looks like a cat, was the MC at the last Grom along with Goops.

Emira and Edirc: Yeah...?

Eda: He’s harnessing all the powers of yelling. I guess all children his age kinda do that but he went above and beyond and actually learned how to make things go boom with his voice alone, and that’s why both Luz and your sister are still alive. And now I’m realizing I should probably go hide all those Death Metal records I got in human realm. Can’t risk turning my son into a weapon of mass destruction. Not yet.

Edric: That’s... nice... I guess?

Emira: How about Mittens?

Eda: Right. She and Luz are an item now. It was adorable, I called her Luz’s girlfriend then I think it finally really hit her and that made her go all catatonic on me. Sorry about that.

Edric: WHAT?

Emira: Okay, okay... So came out with it? Ed and I have some scores to settle.

Eda: I... Both, I guess? I don’t know, it was sort of at the same time. But I don’t want to spoil it for when she recovers. So I guess us three are kinda family now, huh? Tangentially at least, like you’re my nephew and niece-in-law or something like that, I don’t know.

Eda: The important thing is: there’s a huge waterway under my house and I think it is actually part of my property. Now I need to figure out a way to find out how big that place actually is without letting town hall know so my taxes won’t go up. Can’t push my tax evasion skills. I mean, can you imagine it? The Owl Lady, the most successful outlaw in Boiling Isles history: arrested for fiscal crimes.

Emira: Okay... That’s... cool.

Edric: Yeah... Not to pry though, but what happened to you?

Eda: Oh... Me? I got very high. Not on purpose. Then I became a Harpy. Also not on purpose.

Emira: ... I’m sorry but I’m not following the cause and effect relation between those thing.

Eda: Neither am I. All I remember is: Hooty spiked some cookies; I revisited that time I gauged out my dad’s eye, also not on purpose; then when I push my ex away (You know, Raine Whispers, current head of the Bard Coven, lead a small revolutionary guerrilla, now under mind control. Oh, yeah, guess they’d make to sure to keep it under wraps, anyway...)

Eda: Then it got pretty weird. I got trapped by this tall hooded sun and moon figure and I’m not sure whether that was an actual memory (I did get arrested a few time after all) or if it was just a hallucinogenics induced manifestation of the subconscious trauma of being persecuted for years by the state. Anyone’s guess to which was it.

Eda: And then I became Icarus, fell into the sea, and became a piece of paper. Then I was at the beach, the piece of paper was also there, but that’s not important... I hope... Anyway, so, my curse was there too an for a moment there I thought we were gonna play some chess, but nah.

Eda: I did have an epiphany though. The sky changed colors and now I’m a Harpy. Gotta a lot of stuff to process right.

Edric: *Wide eyed and mouth agape* Mother of Titan...

Emira: *Same as her brother* Do you... need a hug or something?

Eda: Ehh... Don’t worry, I’ll get through. I mean, I’m a badass Harpy woman now, what else could I want? I appreciate the thought though. Anyway, I’ll get going, Luz has probably been stuck in the same place ever since I left. Was nice seeing you guys. *Turns around*

Edric: WAIT, EDA.

Eda: Yeah? What is it?

Edric: Can you take me flying a little bit like you did Mittens? Pretty please?

Emira: *Elbowing her brother* EDRIC!

Edric: What? There’s a tall and friendly winged lady standing in our front porch and calling us family...

Eda: Kinda family.

Edric: Kinda family. And we only went flying, on dad’s staff mind you, like twice. And I mean, look at her. That’s clearly a person with next to no regard for speed limits or any form of flying safety. *Turns to Eda* I mean that as the highest of compliments, by the way.

Eda: *Nodding and smiling* Well, I’m not one to brag... But you’re on point there.

Edric: *Turning back to Emira* See? It will be fun. *Turns back to Eda while making puppy eyes* So, pretty pretty please?

Eda: Eh... What the heck, why not? I do need to get a better hold of this flying thing after all. Fair warning though, I only had these for about an hour, I’m not taking responsibility for any loss of limb or life. *Picks Edric up and place him on one of her shoulders and turns to Emira.* You sure you don’t wanna come with? There’s plenty of room.

Emira: ... I never said I didn’t want to...

Eda: *Placing Emira on her other shoulder* Alritty then, make sure to hold on tight to my hair, just don’t fall into it. Can’t promise I’ll find you if you do. And up we go. *Takes off at neckbreaking speed*

Eda: So... I tried that to Mittens herself, but she was too lost in elation to form coherent sentences. What’s the deal with her hair color change? Why did she pick that specific shade of... pink? Lavender? Purple? Whatever, I was a tad curious about that choice coming from one of Odd-alia’s offspring. So either of you can shed some light on it for me?

Emira: Eh, what can I say? Our little Mittens is growing up, coming out of her shell. I mean, if you told me a month that she’d have a girlfriend by now I’d call it bullshit. Though I would have guessed Luz as being the most likely candidate. In any case, I’m pretty proud of the steps our baby sister is taking, not gonna lie.

Edric: Yeah... Same. But I can’t shake the feeling that it is at least in part an act of rebellion against mom. She did always have that weird fixation with Amity’s hair after all...

Eda: Hum, I see. This actually takes me to my follow up question. How did your mom react when she saw it?

Edric: *chuckling* Oh, I thought she’d have a stroke right then and there.

Emira: Yup. Never saw mom that mad. You’d think the two of us would be the ones to cause it but nope, Mittens beat us to it. Again, I’m a proud big sister.

Eda: Hehehe Sounds about right. You two are the troublemaking type then huh?

Edric: That’s a way of putting.

Emira: We like thinking of ourselves as practical entertainers however. We are in the Illusions track so it comes with the territory. Buuut...

Edric: We indulge in some prankery every now and then, and there’s no one better at it than us.

Eda: Is that so? Ever get in trouble for it?

Edric: Sometimes... When we (kind of accidentally) cause more property damage than intended because SOMEONE botched their end of the spell and caused Bump’s office to almost go up in flames.

Emira: Awww. Ed, I told you already. Don’t beat yourself over it. Accidents happen. You’ll do better next time.

Edric: HEY!

Emira: Anyway, Eda. Why were you asking about Mittens’ hair?

Eda: Oh... You guys are going to love this. I think. Anyway, did you know that me and your parents attended Hexside at the same time?

Edric: Yeah, I remember mom seeing one of your wanted posters a while back and calling you “Ewdalyn Clownthorne” or something like that.

Eda: Ah, haven’t heard that in a minute, Titan those were the day. Anyway, as you might have guessed by now me and your mother we... had a bit of a rivalry. Unfortunately, I couldn’t top the nickname she gave me, best I could do was Odd-alia. No offense, but Blight doesn’t give much to work with in terms of puns, can’t get funnier than that. Especially when thrown at her.

Emira: None taken. And yeah. I mean, it is fun when people call us stuff like “The Blights of Hexside”. But it is kinda sad to know we’ll never get a nickname as cool as Owl Lady or Lord Calamity.

Eda: Oh, my fame still precedes me huh? You know, I think the three of us will get along just fine.

Edric and Emira: Yup, we sure will.

Eda: Anyway, flattery aside... Part of the reason why I love poking your mom with a short stick was, other than how aggravated she’d get and how surprisingly good at paying in kind she was, the fact that she was in the Oracle track. You see, that made her a challenge. And given how she would actually prank me back (successfully, mind you, I have no shame in admitting that) I feel like like we actually a weird sort of friends, or at least we reached some kind of agreement that we were fair game for each other. And trust me, she was ruthless, and very good at escalating things.

Emira: Wow...

Edric: That sounds nothing like the mom we know. Other than the ruthless or the escalation part, that is still true.

Eda: Yeah, anyway. Part of our little game was keeping it hidden. Neither your dad or my sister actually ever realized what was going on until... well, I’ll get to that.

Eda: Anyway, so some lovely day I notice how weirdly obsessed with her hair Odd-alia was. This gives me some ideas, but I know I have make this the mother of pranks, so I decided to just keep a watch, to figure out what the best way to go about it would be. And I was also making those smaller pranks, something to throw her Oracle powers off-balance, you know?

Eda: Well... Back in the day your mother wasn’t monochromatic as she is nowadays. She’d circle through all colors you can think off on her accessories (which she used an ungodly amount, and no judgement it just never seems physically possible). But I noticed that there was one very specific color that she never got anywhere near her.

Edric and Emira: No way...

Eda: And as I said, she was weirdly obsessed with her hair... And as top student of the Potions track making hair dye was child’s play for me... So... do the math... And guess what very specific color was? I may be bad at color names, but I won’t ever, EVER, forget that particular shade.

Edric and Emira: No... freaking... way...

Eda: Yes... freaking... way... I mean, seriously, the first time I saw Amity’s new hair I had to do a double take. The resemblance was just too uncanny.

Emira: And what did she do?

Eda: Well... For a couple weeks there I thought I’d have to place a restriction order on her or something like that. Ultimately the two of us, along with Lilith and Alador (they were our attorneys, no they were not qualified for the role.) sitting across from each other in a very formal looking table, signing a contract. An actual freaking contract setting clear limits to our mutual pranks, like what was off limits like her hair or my then partner, how long was the maximum period a prank could last, so on. Surprisingly enough that was Al’s idea.

Eda: And let me tell you, that was probably the toughest negotiation I ever been a part of. Shame it was not long before I dropped out so never could really put it to use. You know, sometime I think this actually made Odd-alia realize she wanted to be a business woman. I mean, before that she’d go off about how she’d join the Emperor’s Coven all the damn time.

Edric: Wow...

Emira: I second that. Really, wish I had brought something I could take notes on. You completely blown anything we ever did out of the water.

Edric: No wonder she never told us that. You know what? I think I’m dying my hair that color first thing tomorrow.

Emira: Can we tell Amity this story?

Eda: Are you two actually thinking of antagonizing her? Are you crazy? First off, she’s your mother, she holds power over you. All you’d accomplish is getting grounded. Not to mention that she has decades of experience on you, even if she wasn’t your mom, she’d demolish the two of you. No offense, you’re still young, naive, you lack guidance in the ways of the pranksters.

Edric and Emira: *Dejectedly* Ohh... You’re right...

Eda: Hey... Don’t look so gloomy. I see a lot of potential in you, in both of you. *Sighs* I can’t believe I’m gonna take more kids under my wing... But.... Have you guys ever heard of the Bad Girl Coven Initiative? We annoy our foes into submission.

Edric and Emira: WE’RE LISTENING.

Eda: Heh... We’ll get along just fine indeed.

#THE OWL HOUSE #the owl house hooty #Edric Blight #Emira Blight #amity blight #luz noceda #king clawthorne #the owl house boscha #raine whispers #I lost track of what was trying to accomplish halfway though writing this. read at your own discretion.

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

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then together let us make a world | jake x amy |

Tooth-rotting fluff based on episode 7x01 coming through!

Read on ao3 here!

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It’s only after getting over the disappointment of Scully and Hitchcock's interview-hijack that it really hits Jake what had previously gone down: They’re going to start trying… for a baby. Gushing thoughts have completely corrupted his brain but they contain so much excitement, confidence he’s never quite felt before, and for this reason he doesn’t mind.

They’re going to start trying for a baby, a little tiny human being, that will be his and hers.

That evening Amy had brought up the pregnancy scare very delicately well aware of her husband’s much improved although still tentative feelings concerning the logistics of the baby-matter. Granted they’d crossed paths with the subject, multiple times, before Jake had indeed, and rather firmly, settled on the fact that, yes, he wanted to be a dad: specifically Amy Santiago’s child’s dad. What had up until now held him back was the question of when.

When would he be ready? When would the time be perfectly right? When would he be able to be the exact opposite of his own dad?

Even though Amy by all means knew her husband could never turn out to be a shitty dad, or shitty anything, for that matter, and of this she’d reassure time after time, she also knew there was understandable reasoning behind his apprehension. Or that was until tonight. Tonight he hadn’t needed her delicateness, though he appreciated it, and he hadn’t cared about his former apprehension. Tonight had been and felt different.

It was as if the second the word pregnant had escaped her lips, he’d instantly felt his heart skip a beat which he at first thought was alike previous nervous occasions, right up until giving it another nanosecond to realise that this time it wasn’t the case. Different from previous times this flutter felt good, thrilling, new and akin to what could only be described as his hopes and dreams about of this long awaited epiphany. And now… it was finally here.

Sitting in bed with her, the very equivalent of the most normal end of the day for them, nothing that felt more special and right as he’d said out loud what he so shamelessly had felt as a result of her little update. The words had flown out his mouth but, for once, his spontaneous declaration were at no one’s expense because, yes, he was ready.

And now, after watching the rest of the news and settling down for the night, it really hits Jake, as they’re lying there, how truly right it all feels. He’s currently tucked into bed with his head slightly propped up watch whatever nonsense is now on TV, alongside him Amy has fallen asleep with her head on his chest, left arm and leg wrapped lovingly around him. It does constrain most of his ability to move but at the very least allows him to have his left arm under, around and holding her close in return. Even considering how normal the evening feels, it also feels that more special, truly like the start of something brand new.

Just as yet another mind numbing commercial interrupts whatever he was mindlessly pretending to watch his eyes drop to look down upon Amy’s sleeping figure. There, his eyes are met by shiny black hair standing out against her pink shirt, indeed messy after a long day but not enough to come in-between his angle of view and her beautiful face. And there it is again, he realises: the stupid smile on his face that’ll appear out of nowhere without a warning the second his mind revisits the thought of the woman before him carrying their child. There is no helping it, he thinks, before letting his fingers run through the locks carefully as to not wake her up.

“Careful, Peralta,” she rumbles, startling him even though he won’t admit to it, half of her face currently smushed comfortably into his chest, nevertheless burying it in a lazy attempt at physical affection.

“You’re absolutely in deep now. There’s no going back,” she jokes through shut eyes although he can tell that there’s a smug grin hiding in his chest.

“Oh, honey I’ve been in deep for a long time now.”

He smiles down at her continuously playing with her hair. Her eyes are still closed but her hand, which seconds ago was helping her hold onto his torso, moves to stroke his bicep. However her smile, on the other hand, quickly changes, doesn’t remain smug for long, and quickly transitions from teasing to a softer version that reflects how she’s really feeling.

“I know it’s still really early and we literally just decided to start trying, but…” she trails off after suddenly opening her eyes, as if the moment has suddenly gained a certain tint of sincerity that wasn’t there seconds ago. “… have you thought about any, you know,” she takes the tiniest of breaths, inhaling courage, before twisting her neck as much as physically possible in her given position to lock eyes with him, “baby names?”

“I actually have,” he counters, once again taking her by storm, without a flinch or any kind of sign of insecurity. Amy’s so proud of him.

With a reassuring smile he reaches over to grab his phone from the nightstand, where it’d immediately been put aside when Amy had come to him with what he’d picked up on as important matter. He doesn’t even have to see at the look upon his wife’s face: he can sense that she’s beaming as he settles back against the pillow with his phone in hand.

“You made a list?” She’s truly surprised and impressed by just how much her A-typeness has worn off on him even if it’s just little things like lists.

“Yeah,” he states proudly before briefly clearing his throat thus prompting Amy to flip over, scooting back to lean her upper backside and head against his chest instead. It’s no secret that she’s extremely curious to get a look at a) her husband’s attempt at what she considers a hobby and b) what her husband considers legitimate names for their future child. This new position will allow her to look through the mystery-list with him. With both arms wrapped around her Jake holds and rests the devise on his belly for both of them to see

“…I actually started making it that evening after our talk at the hospital.”

Amy observes a slight reddening of his cheeks, perhaps not out of embarrassment per say but rather out of understanding of how very real the matter at hand has gotten. His list is no longer just a pile of names in his Notes-app where he’d, for fun and hypothetical reasons, add another one whenever he came across one he liked: now it’s a list that could quite possibly contain the name of their future child.

She grins from ear to ear way before he has the chance to start reading out loud. Just how in love with him she is keeps hitting her again and again, a thousand miles per hour, like lighting tearing apart the sky during a thunderstorm.

“The first name on the list you already know about since we’ve talked about it: Atlas.”

“Still kinda really like it,” Amy shrugs light-heartedly from where she’s comfortably leaning into him all while tracing small drawings of nothing in particular but affection his thigh.

“Our child would be the one to be named after a god, huh?” Jake teases earning him a chuckle from Amy.

“So unbiased,” she confirms jokingly.

“Exactly,” he briefly pecks the top of her head in agreement before continuing. “Alexander is up next.”

“Nu-uh!” Her body twists hurriedly in a tiny squirm of objection. “Perp-alert! I can’t have my child have the same name as one of my ex-perps.”

“Ames, combined we’ve probably arrested hundreds if not thousands of perps!”

While he can see her point: after all it is understandable that she doesn’t want their child to be associated with anything negative, this also erases a lot of possibilities on both their ends.

And although he is completely serious upon making his statement, he has to laugh at the thought of having to name their child something completely absurd because of the extremes of their job.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of names that haven’t been ruined by crime yet. There are literally billions of names out there!” On her part it is in fact a statement but ends up coming out as whine instead - a playful complaint of sorts.

“Sure,” he pauses to think for a second before pulling up a browser tab wherein starts typing obviously searching for something.

Amy’s eyes tries to keep up with his typing but Jake’s fingers have obtained their fair share of training from all the time he spends gaming on his phone, and it’s more of a struggle to follow than she likes to admit.

All she happens to catch is that as soon as he types the first few letters of whatever he’s searching to find, the website’s name pops up as a suggestion telling her that he’s visited it before. He swiftly enters it and clicks around a few more times losing her in the process. A long list appears on what appears to be babynames.com. The thought of him visiting it on his own time, by himself as… fun? It makes her heart flutter.

“It won’t be a problem if you want our child to be called… Agamemnon.”

She immediately twists her neck to look up at him where she’s met by a deadpan she knows is trying to hide the fact that he’s cracking up on the inside.

“I mean,” she untwists her neck to grab the phone from his hand in order to have a closer look at the screen and what is written about the name. “We do seem to have something for Greek mythology so I don’t see the problem, Jake.”

Jake knows Amy like the back of his hand and it’s clear as day that she’s messing with him – but of course two can play that game.

“Okay, great,” he states matter-of-factly, “It’s settled then: we’re naming our child Agamemnon Santiago-Peralta - boy or girl.”

He gently takes back his phone to lock it as a visual settlement of the discussion.

“Okay. Cool cool cool…” Amy complies.

Silence dominates the bedroom for a few seconds before Amy twists her neck, both looking at each other trying to figure out when to kill the joke. Their shared look doesn’t last long before they break into laughter.

“I’m sorry, Ames, but you will never hear me call our child Agamemnon out loud.”

“Completely fair.”

Both of their laughs quiet down. Amy settles back down against his chest while Jake reopens his phone and Notes-app.

“What else do you have in there? I’m sure there are some genuinely good contestants.” She almost coos in order to get the conversation back and track, although more importantly to let him know she genuinely wants to hear his propositions.

This time it’s Amy turn to gentle grab the phone from him and scroll. He loves moments like these where they’re just soaking in each other’s presence without much else to do but talk or touch for the sake of it. To occupy himself in the meantime Jake allows his newly freed hands to caress her the area around her waist and stomach now suddenly also better known as where their child will be growing, becoming a tiny little individual, in what he sincerely hopes is a matter of months. A year ago he couldn’t fathom the feeling this feeling of impatience to be dad, yet alone truly, surely wanting a child. In a drastic lift-changing contrast, here they finally were, going through baby names like it was the most common thing in their world.

“Olivia is nice… Felix also good… Noah is adorable…”

Jake can tell, from the tone of her voice, that she genuinely means every single comment she makes, which wholeheartedly provokes a feeling of pride and the feeling of he can do this. The sound of her voice threats to lull him into a trancelike state, and for a moment allows his eyes to shut while he lets his ears do the job of keeping of with Amy discovering his lists. Just like his eyes, his hand’s movement on her are about to falter when suddenly his wife lets out a tiny gasp. It’s safe to say that his eyes are, just as fast as they were closed, back wide open.

“This one is really sweet,” he can tell she’s smiling from the way her voice is laced with softness. “Juliet,” she continues, out loud, to allow it to roll on her tongue and for herself to get a better taste of it.

Jake gives her some time to dwell on it before speaking up.

“Yeah, I added it after that night we watched ‘Letters to Juliet’… I don’t know if it’s too sappy for my own good, but I like the thought of the baby being like…”

Amy can tell he hesitates to finish the sentence.

“What?” she looks up at him with an eager look: only those beautiful brown eyes that at any time can calm him down, can also lure him out of his emotionally wounded shell.

“… This baby is going to be like our little love letter.”

A few beats, a matter of seconds, go by and Amy can tell he’s just about to break into cringing and a string of sarcastic comments to redeem what he’s just said. Only this time he doesn’t make it, because Amy Peralta-Santiago lives for Jake’s occasional super-soft moments and she’s not about to let this one slip away.

It’s, or so it feels, out of the blue, just as the cringe starts to break on his face, that he halts when his wife suddenly does a 180 and relocates to hover above him. He briefly, just barely manages to, catches the glimpse of a smile on her face that tells him that he’s doing just fine. That is before it disappears into a soft, warm kiss pressed to his lips.

As so many times before, an amount that he forever hopes will be infinite, their lips come together in sweet, passionate harmony.

“Don’t say anything,” she pecks the corner of his lip so softly the need for more pressure creates a burning sensation. “I love it,” she whispers into his ear, adding a kiss to the shell before moving her way back to the main target, sparking off goose bumps.

Her hands have already, even before their lips crashed, made their way to cup his face secretly enjoying the light, barely there, scruff beneath her touch.

“I love you,” he exhales, just barely making it out between clashing of their lips.

“I love you too,” is promptly returned as so many times before although it, even after being repeated many times throughout the years, never loses its true value.

He loves her so much, he can’t help but think over and over again as he the billions of baby names quickly disappear from his mind under the new, increasingly passionate circumstances. Nothing else in the world matters anymore because they’re just going to start trying.

Yeah, seriously.

#jake and amy #jake x amy #peraltiago fanfic #peraltiago #s7 #Brooklyn Nine-Nine #b99 #fanfiction #oneshot #baby peraltiago

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thcyer · 5 years

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the interrogation: they’re always watching...

“is this a real two-way mirror?”

—

the inside of the small interrogation room is just as one would expect. a clean metal table that’s cool to the touch, a few equally bitter metal chairs, and the famous two way mirror that only leaves you staring at yourself; it’s just about the most interesting thing in the room. the walls are bland and dull in hue. it’s meant to intimidate not comfort. the truth is expected to be coaxed from those within the four walls. with his less than ideal rambunctious natured childhood, it’s safe to say this isn’t samuel’s first rodeo. he’s found himself in rooms like this more often than he’d care to admit at young age for petty things, civil disobedience and the like. so what makes his stomach feel so uneasy this time around?

he took his designated place on the opposite end of the table, hands folding in on each other carefully. he has nothing to worry about. ultimately his summons for this interrogation has nothing to do with him and he’s aware of that. and yet his knee keeps a slightly nervous bounce as he begins to fiddle with his fingers. any normal person would be a little nervous in police custody, sam tries to remind himself. this is about daisey’s death. the murderer now assumed to be nathaniel ballantyne. only it takes but a few nudges before someone’s yelling jenga! and the entire thing collapses. a killer’s blackmail. the thirty. his secret.

Part One ( You. )

Do you have any criminal history? Anything big or small that you want to make us aware of?

a gentle smile finds its way to pink lips as his nervous ticks dissipate. he’s been conditioned for moments like these with lessons taught by parental figures and the like. he also knew those minor incidents in question were cleared. at the very least buried deep enough so that no one else should find them. after all a diplomat’s son is not meant to be problematic. “no.” he answers calmly. there are no records and there’s certainly nothing he’d want to make them aware of. certainly not if it meant those back home could gain a whiff. they’d be all over him in a heartbeat and he may never see ashmont again. “no I do not.” this time it’s spoken with clarity as his slender frame leans into the table so he can be picked up by the microphone.

How have you spent the few weeks back at college? What have they been like?

all of the events dating back to the beginning of the school year came flooding back to him. oz’s party. the threatening message sent by daisey’s blog. a message that he hadn’t taken seriously enough to begin with. he refused to believe that the contents of said message were true. however it was not merely the discovered fact that daisey is dead, but more importantly that someone knew his secret. at the time it felt impossible. arrogance claimed him for a few weeks and one by one the dominoes began to topple over. those within the thirty were exposed and they were scared, distraught, shamed. he could see it in their faces. in the eyes of their loved ones. in their actions. it was real and only getting worse. the killer was quite literally painting the town red.

his arms retract from the table, lifting hands first, palms to each other, before they settle onto his lap. slender shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug. “the past few weeks have been stressful” he admits with a slow drawl. “it was very nice to see everyone again at first...and then daisey went missing...and” there it is, the fork in the road. it’s a moment he could just take. like that. how would they know? what else would he have to lose? “..then she was found.” but he already decided his path. long before this summons. it’s still a thought though, one that lingers at the back of his mind. what did he have to lose...

“it seemed like everything was returning to normal..at least..as normal as it could be and the art gallery happened...” an event that he’s still extremely upset about. “and now you know... we are placed on this curfew.” it’s unintentional but a hint of spite laced it’s way into his voice upon mention of the curfew. “so yes..” pick your battles sam. “it has been stressful.”

Part Two ( Daisey. )

How did you know Miss. Rutherford? What was the nature of your relationship?

these are routine questions. he’s well aware but in some instances it felt like a waste of time. “the rutherfords are my host family for the exchange program.” and how lucky he is right? that this occurred by random chance and everything is going smoothly. wrong. he couldn’t have taken a bumpier road. it’s not their fault though, no one asked for this. “that is how I got to know daisey.” the woman of the hour that seemed to last forever. sam was fond of daisey so he didn’t always mind being at her beck and call. some instances proved to more hellish or inconvenient than others but growing closer to her was satisfying. she pulled him in like a shiny piece of gold. “daisey and I were friends.” sure he could call it that. it never got the chance to flourish into something else so they remained in the realm of friends. “I got to know her over the past year because I was living with her family.”

Do you remember where you were the night Daisey went missing? If so, where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with?

the infamous friday the thirteenth. once feared due to killers like of jason or freddy and monsters among the things going bump in the night. daisey was murdered that night. the irony of it all almost makes his mouth twitch in amusement, how twisted is that? he begins to wonder if it was a planned attack but his expression remains stoic. there’s no reason for falsely incriminating himself because his thoughts ran wild. “yes. I was at the party oz threw after the homecoming game.” the artist reclines in his seat, taking a moment to realign that night. the details don’t take very long to reach the forefront his mind but he allows the pause. “I do not remember exactly what time I arrived, I had already been drinking before I got there with a few other people. I remember dancing and just generally talking to people.” dark brown curls bounce slightly when he shakes his head. “ah, I went outside for a little and spoke with zar.” his roommate now. accused of man-slaughter by daisey’s killer. more irony. “I went inside again a while after that...I helped someone prank honey.”

it’s then that he allows a smile to break on his features. “it was pretty good. we put mayonnaise in this mixture of water, vodka and tequila.” what was not half as amusing was when his partner in the ordeal got punched in the face. at least..it wasn’t amusing for them. “I think it was probably close to two am when I left I...ran into a friend. well.. we are not really friends anymore” and who’s fault was that? sam’s the one truly pushing sutton away. “but I did not want to be there anymore after that.” the final detail that comes to mind forces his jaw to clench. looking back at it now it’s another regretful decision. “I hooked up with angel that night too...” now he hates to admit it, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. angelic flores, the recently revealed mother who had no problem abandoning her poor child. it’s not an action he can ever see himself standing behind. “I think I got home around three or three thirty? I can not remember.”

Did you notice anything strange about Daisey’s behavior the night she went missing? Did you notice anything suspicious about anyone else you ran into that night?

“it was not particularly strange...” he admits, because in truth it wasn’t. daisey drank at these things. she got high sometimes. it wasn’t new but perhaps it felt different. he can recall the hazy smile that splayed across her visage. the lazy uncoordinated movements that stood out from the crowd. daisey had a way of doing that. standing out in a crowd, even when heavily intoxicated. “she was under the influence of something. I do not know what, I hadn’t been with her much that night. I think it was probably close to one am? I know it was past midnight because it was after I came back inside. I had gotten a call at around twelve thirty that I missed I tried calling back, but they did not answer and I saw her maybe....ten or....fifteen minutes after? she was in the main area, I was on my towards the stairs, I heard her saying something but it wasn’t clear at all. I thought I would see her again at home but...” another shrug finishes his sentence as that was truly the last he saw of daisey rutherford alive.

Where were you the night Daisey’s body was recovered?

where he always was. practically every friday night, the tourist found himself at the bar with one of his good friends. “I was at the bar with vi. we usually go there every friday. I think that night I had finally gotten a part of one of the card tricks she was showing me. It was exciting because I usually mess something up. it is a very hard trick. she is very good at it, but I got the first part down...and we haven’t really revisited the trick since..”

How familiar are you with the Ashmont woods? Have you been there often? Have you recently ventured out here? If so, why?

this question snags his attention, thick brows pull together as he leans forward curiously. he hadn’t heard anything about the woods yet. what sort of drop of information is this? a red herring or is it a matter of importance “I have probably only been there once when I around when I first arrived. once or twice.” that’s all he could honestly remember of them. the woods weren’t particularly a place of interest for him. “I have not been there recently no..” why sits at the tip of his tongue, begging to be asked but the police weren’t there to answer questions.

Part Four ( Weekly Events. ) (* switched bc he felt like bein a lil shit at the end)

Did you attend the illegal bonfire? Do you know who organized this event?

“no.” his answer is simple and straight forward. he did not attend the bonfire out of caution for the repercussion should anyone have gotten caught. he did not expect this outcome but he’s glad he hadn’t gone regardless. his head begins to shake in response to the second question but then he’s reminded of a conversation in passing. “I do not think I know exactly who organized it. I remember speaking to danny, he mentioned it, but I do not know if he helped organize anything.”

Did you notice any suspicious activity if you attended the event?

“I did not..because I stayed at home” in apartment six all night. “bath bomb, the cat” he clarifies, his favorite of the apartment’s animals “stared at the wall for a little before chasing her tail and falling over. I do not know if that counts as suspicious activity. she falls over or jumps from high places a lot.”

Do you know Nathaniel Ballantyne? If so, what do you know of him?

nathaniel ballantyne. the ashmont police department’s person of interest. sam can’t say he knows the man well enough to make an accurate judge of his character but the opinion heavy information he does hold doesn’t sit well for nate. “not really.. I have met him a few times..” here’s his second fork in the road. he could sink nate and potentially assist his blackmailer or hope to god that nathaniel and the ominous killer are one in the same and they actually catch him. weighing out the options they both seem one in the same and the win-lose ratio has already been tossed. “I have never gotten particularly friendly vibe from him. he has always kept to himself.” in the dark of the lamar library. “actually,” sam straightens as that visual re-enters his mind from that night. it was brief but it was odd. “I remember something else from the party. I was walking around upstairs and I walked into the library and he was sitting in front of the window by himself in the dark by a game of chess. it was very strange. I couldn’t tell if he was waiting for someone or...something. I did not stay for long. I...had a weird feeling.” he admits partial truths. samuel thayer was not afraid of the strange, seemingly gentle, giant. he can only hope he picked the right road.

Do you know anything about his connection to Daisey Rutherford?

“I know that they obviously knew each other. daisey... was engaged to his brother..uh..I remember they had this thing...like..a sort of rivalry about school or something. I know daisey complained to me about something like that once..” oh the earful of complaints that girl had. some spoken directly. some overheard. the rutherford manor was large but they resided in close enough quarters. “I do not know...I can’t say that I know him well enough to point fingers, but...” his inhale of breath offers a pause before he continues. “I think that reasoning holds the same both ways. I can’t say that I know for sure that he would not do anything.”

Part Three ( the Investigation. ) (* switched bc he felt like bein a lil shit at the end)

Do you have any people you feel the police should look into? Please, let us know who and why.

“just nathaniel I guess...why else would he run?” his lower lip catches between his teeth. admitting it now felt wrong but there’s no turning back. it’s his simplest line of thought and his only way to help. “I do not know...” a stressed sigh over takes him as both hands reach up to smooth over his face. they remain on his cheeks for a moment. his decision has been locked in.

Do you have feelings towards the investigation? Any comments?

“I do have a few comments” and there he goes. still clasped together his hands return to the table top and his gaze locks with detective grant. “I do not understand this curfew or the buddy system. if anything it is only scaring everyone even more. you can not just treat us all like we are children. do you know it’s the children with over protective parents that act out the most?” now he is speaking from personal experience? “I think this is only going to cause more chaos. please consider getting rid of it or making it later..”

thank you for your cooperation.

after what felt like an eon, the interrogation was finally over. he could breathe once more. it wasn’t until he had risen to exit the room that he realized how stuffy it felt. the tension that had risen in the air. it’s just as he’s leaving that he makes his final remark. “is this a real two-way mirror?”

#veritasinterrogation #wrow this is...long #also pre-kidnapping #and uh 👀#OOP #yikes on spikes #this probably also makes zero sense and probs has typos up the yang but it's like three days in the making sO

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stevenuniversallyreviews · 5 years

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Episode 106: Buddy’s Book

“We imagined him way off.”

As a children's librarian, I feel there are some things I should clear up before getting started. First, we don't read at the front desk as patrons come in (and we certainly wouldn't be reading something as smutty as Passions of Xanxor); our job is helping people, not sating our own love of books, and there’s tons of other work to do when patrons aren’t in immediate need. Second, we might tell noisy patrons to be quiet at times, but we don't loudly and nonverbally shoosh, because that’s rude as hell and would justifiably result in louder backlash. Third, we weed our collections regularly, meaning a journal that's hundreds of years old would've been trashed, donated, or (most likely in this case) moved to special collections long before it could've been left uncatalogued on the ground for a patron to find (and yeah, we are capable of checking beneath the shelves).

None of these misconceptions matter that much, but what is a little annoying is the stereotype that libraries are book repositories, rather than information centers. Yes, we carry books, but we also carry digital media to fit a modern world, and more importantly, we're staffed with information specialists who teach digital literacy to all ages. If you're a Connie, getting your information from the internet and citing erroneous sources, come to the library and we'll teach you how to research properly using every tool at your disposal, including your smartphone. Smartphones aren’t the problem. The internet isn’t the problem. Shoddy methodology is the problem, and it’s still a problem if you’re only researching with books, because books can be erroneous as well. Pick a world history book from as late as the 80s and it’ll tell you the USSR still exists. Pick a book written by a racist and you might walk away thinking some very biased information is factual, depending on your critical thinking skills.

Libraries have always been at the forefront of literacy, research, and community outreach, so don't let anyone in charge of budgets tell you that we're a relic of the past despite what portrayals of libraries so often amount to in media.

(Also, and as much as I loathe the Dewey Decimal System, which is outdated and nonadjustable and prejudiced and not at all structured well from a consumer-facing standpoint, which is crucial to kids especially: how did they not make a single reference to Dewey also being the last name of Beach City’s mayor and Buddy’s buddy?)

Okay, professional duties out of the way. Let's talk about stories.

Buddy's Book is about history, but more specifically, about the way we perceive history when we weren't there to live it. Nothing we see of the past looks the way it actually looked, because Steven and Connie are conflating a person who died centuries ago with Jamie. And it doesn’t stop at the visual level: unless we're to believe that the glorious line "I shall not disappear! I shan't die a lowly first mate! I shwill do something great with my life!" is actually written in the journal, the kids are allowing the idea of Jamie to seep into the narration as well. It’s reminiscent of one of my favorite Simpsons gags, where the ghost of Cesar Chavez explains that he appears as Cesar Romero to Homer because Homer doesn’t know what Cesar Chavez looked like.

The kids say outright that they’re picturing Buddy as Jamie, so we’re aware from the start that reality is being altered. This sensation is enhanced when the Crystal Gems' appearances shift from their modern outfits to the way they looked in the old photo from So Many Birthdays as soon as the kids think to do so (complete with Amethyst's long hair, which was sorta retconned into being inspired by Greg's). Amethyst speaks using modern slang, and Garnet and Pearl exit their scene on a penny-farthing bicycle, which wouldn't be invented until the 1870s, because to a kid “the past” is a single nebulous unit of time where everything can mix together.

This is mostly played for laughs, and to great effect, but the timing of this episode forces us to confront the downside of nudging history to fit a better story. As silly as it is to insert modern concepts to fill in gaps from long ago, Steven has also had to fill the gaps for his mother's story, combining all the great things he’s heard about her from his family to create an impossible ideal of an imperfect figure. Learning that Buddy didn’t look anything like Jamie at the end of the episode is another joke, but learning that Rose wasn’t who Steven thought she was is the driving force behind Act III of the original series (a.k.a. the final two seasons).

And, of course, this is the first time we see Rose after the reveal. In a bubble, Steven’s lack of reaction to her appearance in the book seems like a misfire, but Mindful Education is coming right up to show how Steven is repressing his emotions (which also retroactively makes me enjoy his childish behavior here, such as not controlling the volume of his voice and playing with the rolling stool).

More than any other flashback so far, Rose is an enigma. She’s a mystery to Buddy, a normal human encountering a giant woman in the desert. She’s a mystery to her friends, all by herself in the desert with a small pride of lions that the other Crystal Gems don’t know about, judging by their reaction to Lion a few hundred years later. And she’s a mystery to us, because we’ve been told that she killed someone and are thirsty for answers.

Instead, she acts like she always has. She’s as empathetic and silly and encouraging as ever, but why wouldn’t she be? The most we’ve seen of her is in Greg’s flashbacks, so we already know what she acted like after the shattering. Read one way, this episode confirms that her behavior wasn’t a front, because she’s just as lovely with this random human hundreds of years earlier.

But remember, we aren’t actually seeing Rose here. We’re seeing Steven’s interpretation of Rose from the writings of a stranger’s journal, and he’s been embellishing this journal the entire time. I’m not saying that Rose didn’t do what the book purports, or that there’s any reason for us to think she didn’t act this way, but it’s up to Steven to show us, and when given the opportunity to present any character any way he likes, he still sees Rose the way he always has. We’re an episode away from his confronting those feelings, but it’s important to see that for now he’s still clinging to the stories he��s familiar with even after a new story has come to light.

Then, of course, there’s Lion. This is the first time in ages we’ve gotten a new hint at his backstory (it’s been on the back burner since Rose’s Scabbard), but as always, his origin remains shrouded. The connection to Rose is clearer than ever, but she’s with seven lions, not one, and none of them are pink.

This is an area where I’m a little more frustrated by Steven not wondering aloud what’s up with the lions, but I’m not frustrated with Steven, if that makes sense. Steven has never been as interested in the lore of the show as the fans; magic is his normal, so digging deep into where Lion came from would be like tracking down the family tree of a pet cat. Plus it would ruin the pacing of the episode for us to focus too hard on the lions, and it probably wouldn’t be great for the mystery. My frustration is from wanting a puzzle solved, which speaks to how effective this little side story has been. If we aren’t compelled enough to remember these details, Lars’s eventual resurrection has no oomph, so a little annoyance is worth it.

The coolest aspect of the episode by far is revisiting old haunts; Rose may praise Buddy’s writing, but his drawings are nothing to scoff at, and seeing the locations themselves is a delight. It’s a nice review of the show’s own history through the eyes of someone else (and then back again through the eyes of our heroes looking through the eyes of someone else). This is our second episode in a row with musical cues from past episodes, which I sadly can’t link to because we’ve reached the era where Aivi and Surasshu had to stop posting their background tracks online. Know Your Fusion and Buddy’s Book have a nifty through-line of looking into the show’s past, just as Buddy’s Book and Mindful Education have a through-line of Steven hanging out with Connie as she begins a new school year. It’s cool to see light structuring in the serialization after so many episodes in a row that were more directly connected.

Even though Jamie himself doesn’t actually appear in it, this is probably my favorite Jamie episode. Eugene Cordero has proven himself an expert ham many times over, and because the mailman is already larger than life, he’s even more melodramatic in the kids’ imaginations. Cordero sells that “shwill” with ease, but his best read is the desert monologue that goes an even deeper layer and has Steven and Connie imagining Jamie as Buddy imagining what other people would think of his quest: “‘Ha ha ha,’ they’d say. ‘What a fool,’ they’d continue.”

The Gems get to be goofy as well, with Pearl speaking in mangled old-timey parlance, Garnet going big in her not-too-subtle pep talk, and Amethyst swinging from accommodating and annoyed. And it’s not as if Steven and Connie are serious, either. The lightheartedness is abundant, but unlike Kindergarten Kid or Know Your Fusion, it just feels wholesome. Sure, there’s snark here and there, but this is essentially two friends having fun at the library, which I’m all about.

I’ll repeat a third time that Mindful Education is incoming, and with it comes the reality of Steven’s situation. Stories are fun, but distractions only last so long, and Buddy’s Book is a wonderful way to give us a little more joy while priming us for a bigger story about when the stories we live by aren’t true.

Future Vision!

It’s perfect foreshadowing to slip the Palanquin in with all the portrayals of places we’ve already been. Especially because Stephen’s Dream actually uses the journal as a reference point. (Also: did Connie steal that book? Because she certainly couldn’t have checked it out if it wasn’t catalogued.)

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Does it get things wrong about libraries? Sure. But this is still a fun and funny episode about research and narratives, so it’s burrowed its way into my heart regardless.

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

When It Rains

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

No Thanks!

5. Horror Club 4. Fusion Cuisine 3. House Guest 2. Sadie’s Song 1. Island Adventure

(Not sure why this one lacks promo art, considering it’s our first episode after the huge release rush of the Summer of Steven, but I love the True Buddy art from Tench.)

#buddy's book #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

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sasshole-for-rent · 6 years

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Farewell, My Little Arrow

#48. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” for @dadrunkwriting

Summary: Mel, Josie, Leliana, and Cassie often can’t be found and are hiding in the forgotten study underneath Skyhold. They bond by exchanging stories, sharing wine, and eating frilly cakes in dresses. Solas, being the only one who knows this is Mel’s usual haunt, has to direct the commander, who has come bearing dire news, to the inquisitor and her advisors to his inconvenience. (As he is in the middle of a fresco, it will dry all wrong if he leaves.)

This had become a regular thing for all four of them. They would rendezvous in this underground study, and uncork a bottle of wine from Skyhold’s cellar. They would complain about their responsibilities, until the wine kicked in, that is. Then, they would be laughing, sharing stories and forgetting they held the fate of the world in their hands. Just for a little while. It was their sanctuary.

Cassandra gushed about the book, Swords and Shields, that Varric had gifted her. It was adorable that under all that armor, the woman was a sweetheart, Eir’melana thought, and a hopeless romantic to boot.

“Oh!” Cassandra clutched the book to her chest. “The way he guards her with his life!”

“Are you talking about the book or the way Varric shot that outlaw, before he could even raise his sword?” Mel teased, pursing her lips into a smirk. Her lips were mess of plum lipstick courtesy of Josie’s insistence. The woman would not leave her be, until she sat still long enough for the Antivan to smear lipstick over her lips. Cassandra’s face flushed scarlet, and she punched her lightly in the arm. “The book, of course!”

“Ow!” Mel said, rubbing her arm.

The rest of the women giggled. Mel following suit shortly after the soreness had receded. Cassandra’s blush deepened, if that was even possible.

“Since we have resorted to teasing each other, what about you and our Solas?” Cassandra asked. A single dark brow arched.

It was her turn to blush. She really shouldn’t have hinted at Cassie’s growing affection for Varric.

Josie gasped, but Leliana just gave Mel a small smile that told her nothing escaped the nightingale’s eye. “You and Messere Solas?”

“Yes,” Mel admitted, “We are together.” Her hands busing themselves with smoothing the lap of her dress.

She smiled fondly at the intricate embroidery. The silver leaves of thread covering her body like the leaves of a great adahl. Mel loved this dress. It was the one Josie had commandeered by asking a favor of an esteemed Antivan tailor. She remembered being so distraught that she couldn’t find any dress she liked in all the dress shops in Val Royeaux, only to have Josie place a parcel in her chambers, when she had returned empty-handed.

Leliana joined them. Only when the ambassador had called for the spymaster to come Mel’s chambers at once on important business. The important business being that Mel needed shoes to match her dress. The usually reticent spymaster had squealed at that, and got right to work on tracking down the best shoemaker in Thedas. The three had been inseparable since that day.

Josie clapped her hands together, and pressed a broad smile into them. “I am so happy for you!” She said, bliss radiating from her voice. It filled the small room. It infected them all like the rose perfume Leliana wore.

Cassandra prodded, “Well, are you going to tell us how it happened or not?

“We will need details.” Leliana agreed. “Many details.” She looked so different, when she wasn’t hiding under that hood. More at ease.

Mel turned her head to hide her blush, as she thought about what those details would entail. “I really shouldn’t. I don’t think Solas would appreciate me telling you.”

“I can keep a secret.” Leliana said, her eyes glinting like a raven’s all knowing stare. “He won’t know that I know.”

“It has been hard to keep it all from you all.” Eir’melana was sheepish, but the women on on the edge of their seats prompted her to divulge to them. “He took me into the fade, after we arrived at Skyhold.”

“The fade?” All three of them questioned. They looked among themselves, before returning their attention to Mel.

“Do tell!” Josie said, her eyes polished with curiosity. Cassandra had shifted her chair closer. She practically lived for romance. Leliana just nodded in accordance.

Mel continued, laughter on her breath. “When he took me there, he took me to Haven. To the prison below it, more specifically. He told me about how he sat with me, studying the anchor. I was glad someone was watching over me, and I told him as much. He told me that I was a mystery, and that I still am.”

She smiled to herself, remembering it fondly. They listened to her tell her tale with rapt intention. “We were outside of the chantry. It was snowing. Huge flakes falling around us, and finding a home in my hair. It was as beautiful as it was bittersweet.” Mel heard Cassandra’s dreamy sigh. “He told me that I was never going to wake up. That I couldn’t have awoken, but I did. Then, He told me about his attempts to close the breach, and his failure to do so. He revisited what happened at the first rift I closed. That I was the key to our salvation.”

“Oh?” Josie said quietly. Cassandra nodded in affirmation. “Oh!” Josie exclaimed, a hand over her heart.

“That’s not even the best part,” said Mel, becoming excited from finally telling someone. “He told to me, and I quote,” Mel tried her best attempt at an impression of Solas. Which was horrible. “and right then, I felt the whole world change.” Her blush crept over the bridge of her nose.

Cassandra cooed, “So romantic!” The woman nearly swooned in her chair. Mel laughed. “I know! So, I did what any sane woman would, I melted.” She said, smiling like a fool. “Felt the whole whole change? I asked him. A figure of speech he had answered simply, as if he had swept me off my feet right then and there. My feet moved toward him without me telling them to. I grew bold. I am aware of the metaphor, I am more concerned about ‘felt.’ I had caught him, and he me. You change everything he admitted. Oh Creators! My heart was racing! I had never wanted to kiss someone so much! I remember looking at my feet, and speaking more to my toes than him. Sweet talker I called him. He had looked away then and I was worried he was going to leave, so I—I grabbed him by the face, pulling him down to my lips, and I kissed him!”

Mel began playing with her hair. The scarlet reaching the tips of her ears. “Oh, I knew I had been too forward by the look on his face. I tried to flee, but he grabbed me by the hips, nearly knocking me over as his lips crashed into mine. I could barely catch my breath. He pulled back just to shake his head, like I unleashed something I shouldn’t have, only to kiss me again. It was the most exhilarating moment of my life, up until that point at least. Then, he pulled away, and told me that we shouldn’t. That it wasn’t right, not even here. I was dazed and confused. What did he mean not even here? I asked as much. Where did you think we were? He asked, disbelief and amusement on his beautiful face. It was than that I realized: I was dreaming.”

Cassandra lurched forward, her eyebrows knitting together. “Wait! What?! It wasn’t real?!”

Mel laughed, using this pause in the story to pluck a tiny cake off a platter the Antivan had brought down. “That is what I initially thought as well.” She said, her mouth full.

“But it was real?” Cassandra asked, the wheels turning in her head. Or trying to over the haze of the wine.

“How could he have projected himself into your dream?” Leliana shook her head. “That is impossible.” The nightingale’s eyes gleamed with skepticism.

She swallowed the bite of cake. Mel leveled her bleary eyes on the Spymaster. “So is falling out of a rift and bearing a mark that is capable of ripping open the heavens.” She dared another bite of cake.

“Fair enough.” conceded the Spymaster, lifting her pink lips into simper.

“And then what happened?” Josie was hugging a pillow. Where had she gotten a pillow? Eir’melana wondered.

Mel swallowed the cake, savoring the burst of flavor that lingered on her tongue. She took a swig of wine to wash it down, cleared her throat, and began her tale again, “When I had questioned the reality of it. He told me that it was a matter up for debate, and it was best discussed after I woke up! I sat up in my bed, trying to catch my breath. It was a kiss stolen in a dream, yet it wasn’t! I threw off my covers and ran to him. The rest is history!”

Josie screamed, actually screamed, kicking her legs in excitement. Her wine sloshed out of the goblet, splattering on to the floor. Mel was surprised all of Skyhold didn’t hear her.

“Wow,” Leliana said, quietly surprised. “That is incredible.”

If Casandra had nearly swooned before, the woman was a puddle now. She was quiet and staring at Mel, her mouth agape. “Cassie?” Mel questioned, “Are you all right?”

“Am I all right? I am more than all right,” Cassandra came to life, “That was better than Swords and Shields!”

All of them burst into a fit of raucous laughter at that. Josie was wiping at tears, by the end of it. When she could control herself, Mel downed her wine.

It was quiet for after that. They relished in the silence, eating the confections on the desk. It was rare that they had a quiet moment and they savored this one for as long as they could. That is until Josie started bouncing her leg.

Cassandra’s head was tilted back against her chair, her arm over her face. “Josie, could you stop that, please?”

“I’m sorry,” Josie apologized, looking around at them all. “I just—I have a confession to make.”

Mel’s interest was piqued. Along with the spymaster and the lady seeker’s interest, as well.

Josie continued, her nerves slipping into her accent, making it sound heavier than it was. “Well, since you told us all about Solas. I, too, have kept something under wraps.” Her kind brown eyes flicked between them, fearing she would find judgement in their expressions. When she found none, Josie blurted, “Blackwall kissed me!” As soon as it was out, she covered her mouth.

Leliana merely said, “It’s about time.” To which Josie blushed prettily. The rest of them chuckled, the love in the air was more intoxicating than the wine.

“Solas!” Cullen’s voice boomed into the rotunda.

“Oh, for the love of…really?” Solas exclaimed, his voice distorted. He nearly dropped the hawk that held his clay.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Solas” Cullen said, “Are you all right? You sound…odd.”

“Can’t you see I am in the middle of something, Commander?” Solas called down from the scaffolding to Cullen, a paintbrush between his teeth. The trowel he flicked, smoothing clay into place. Solas gave him his most unamused once-over.

Upon spotting the paintbrush, Cullen said, “Oh. I see.” He cleared his throat. “With all due respect, I wouldn’t have disturbed you, if It wasn’t absolutely urgent! Do you know where the Inquisitor is? Leliana? Josephine? I haven’t seen them all day, even Cassandra is missing. Which is odd, she almost never leaves the courtyard...” He stroked the hair on his chin.

Solas raised an auburn brow at him.

“Mel gave me explicit orders that she remain undisturbed. You see, we have that in common, her and I.” Solas said, spreading the clay with newfound determination. “Whatever it is you have to give her can wait.”

Cullen merely gave Solas what he could only describe as a look of a man who had mastered the art of brooding.

“It is not as if someone has perished or anything or the sort,” Solas probed, derisively flicking his eyes to his work and from the Commander’s sullen expression. His hands sliced the clay with the trowel on rotunda’s walls, cutting precise lines. “Am I correct?”

“Well, no.” Cullen said, hanging his head. “I have received this letter from Lady Guinevere. She gave me this parcel and scroll. The scroll is addressed in elven. I can’t read it, but Lady Guinever told me that it is for her worship, and that I shouldn’t open it. However, they haven’t sent word in quite some time. And this letter…” Cullen’s hand was shaking.

“Clan Lavellan is dead.”

His mouth fell open. The paintbrush clattering off the scaffolding and onto the floor far below. Paint splattered just mere inches from the commander’s boots. Both men refused to acknowledge it. Solas glided down the ladder. Already taking the parcel from out of Cullen’s hands. He opened the scroll tied to the parcel, breaking the wax seal. His eyes raked over the hasty scrawl.

My precious daughter, Eir’melana. I hope this reaches you and you know that I love you. I pray that Falon’din will guide you back to me when it is your time to cross the veil. Farewell, my little arrow.

Solas was not aware of the wetness on his cheeks, until the commander asked, “What does it say?” He looked up only to see that Cullen’s face was as grievous as his own. He should not have read that. Its broken seal, a damnation. If Cullen took this to her with its seal broken, she would blame Cullen, possibly forever for something he had not done. No, it must be him.

“I must bring this to her. I believe it would soften the blow, if I delivered the news.” Solas told Cullen, taking the keeper’s letter from him, as well. “I—Well, you will need to finish this in my stead.” He flicked his eyes to the unfinished plaster. Cullen caught his meaning, waving his hands in front of him. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly! I don’t have a creative bone in my—”

“I promise to be swift. Just,” Solas grabbed a paper off of his desk, and thrust it at the commander. “Just follow this diagram.” He gave Cullen his tools, and ran out of the rotunda, leaving the the commander to his own devices.

Cullen picked up the tools, unsure of which tool did what, and looked up at the massive wall. He gulped, wondering how on Thedas he would attack this problem. “Maker help me.” He prayed, and ascended the ladder.

Solas stood at the door to his old study, his fist hovering over the wood, but he couldn’t bring himself to knock. He heard laughter inside. He knew what he would find on the other side of that door: undiluted happiness. Solas wasn’t ready to shatter it. He wasn’t ready to taint Mel’s sanctuary, by turning it into the place where she learned of her family’s death.

He remembered Mel finding it, a week after they got settled into Skyhold, and had dragged him down here. “I have to show you something!” She had smiled as she pulled him down the steps.

She had marveled at all the dusty books, running her fingertips over the spines like a kid in a sweet shop. He had only been relieved that it was all still where he had left it. The thick tome on the desk, still opened to the page he had left off on. Although the spiderwebs were new to the decorum, along with the layers of dust. It had been so long. She had plucked a book of the shelf, blowing the dust off of it. The dust motes floating around them like snow. She had pawed through the pages.

“There are pyramids in Par Vollen?!” Mel had asked him, wonder in her tone.

Solas had chuckled at that. “Yes, didn’t you know?”

“Growing up Dalish I never really knew anything outside my clan. Now, being here with these books and you, I can know.” She had placed her hand on his, always her right hand, never her left. She still feared it, and its power. “I suppose this mark was a blessing wrapped in a curse.” She had said, stepping closer to him.

He had felt the warmth radiate from her body. “Why is that?” Solas had asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

“If it wasn’t for the anchor, I wouldn’t have met you.” Mel had said, merely and inch away from his lips. Lips he had happily claimed that day.

So, Solas stood there, trying to prepare himself to break Mel’s heart.

Mel hiccuped. “Tell me about Schmooples the II again?” She asked Leliana. Her dress still miraculously unscathed from the copious amount of icing she had consumed. She did love herself some frilly cakes.

Leliana swirled the wine in her goblet from the perch on the desk. “It would be my pleasure.” Her elegant voice slightly slurred. She rotated her heel, showing off the shoes Mel had bought her. They sparkled in the candlelight.

Josie leaned in, her elbows on her knees like a little girl. Icing adorned her smiling face. “Ooh!” She squealed. “I love these stories!”

“You still have that nug?” Cassandra asked, Her dark brows rising to new heights.

“Of course I still have him, Cassandra, and many others.” Leliana said, her eyes laughing. “I have one of my agents taking care of them as we speak.”

“Carry on then,” Cassandra said, smiling into her own goblet as she sipped it. “I would love to hear about them.”

They huddled closer to the nightingale, Mel included. Setting down her empty goblet, Leliana began her tale about Schmooples the II.

Cullen had some how managed to get more clay on himself, than on the wall. It made his skin feel like it had more layers than it should, and to make matters worse, it itched to high heavens.

Solas said he was going to be swift. What was taking him so long?

He had slaved away at this wall for what felt like hours. He had spread, and cut and spread again, and it didn’t look right. What was it supposed to be anyway? A green waterfall, with eyes? No that could be right.

Cullen looked down at the detailed diagram. It looked like a green waterfall on there as well. He went back and forth between diagram and fresco. It was then that he spotted the writing on it. It was upside down. And so was the fresco.

Solas was going to kill him. How was he going to fix this? He was on the verge of panicking when a familiar voice called out to him.

“Cullen, what on Thedas is that supposed to be?” Dorian Pavus asked from the balustrade. “I didn’t know you dabbled int the arts.”

“I don’t.” Cullen said, his voice flat.

“Well, that explains a lot.” Dorian said.

Cullen glanced at the Tevinter only to be graced with the man’s insufferable smirk. He groaned.

“Dorian, if you have time to mock me, you have time to lend a hand.” Cullen said, turning fully to face the man.

“What was that?” Dorian asked, putting his hand up to his ear. “I didn’t hear a please.”

“Maker give me strength.” Cullen muttered to himself. He inhaled deeply. “Please, Dorian, I would be gracious if you would help me fix this?”

“Well, why didn’t you say so the first time?” Dorian asked, already walking toward the stairs. “I would be delighted to help, Commander!”

Leliana had left to fetch a bottle of wine. The cellar, as it seemed, had run dry. Mel had gaped at the spymaster who creaked open the door to tell them that it was empty. They all had looked at her as if she had gone mad. She had only shook her head, saying that is was indeed empty.

“Well, do you suppose Cabot would have a bottle?” Mel suggested.

“Perhaps. It doesn’t hurt to ask. I shall be back shortly, Inquisitor.”

“Please, Leliana, just call me Mel. We are friends after all.”

“Of course.” Leliana said, smiling sweetly. “I shall be back shortly, Mel.”

“Hopefully, not empty-handed.” added Cassandra, raising her empty goblet.

Leliana gave them all a soft chuckle, before shutting the door behind her.Her new shoes clacking against the dusty floor.

Josie was busy stuffing her face with tiny cakes to notice the spymaster’s departure.

There was a light rap on the door.

“Back already? She sure works fast.” Cassandra said, laughter on her tongue.

Mel rose from her chair. The room was spinning before her. “That is our spymaster.” She said over her shoulder, as she clumsily walked to the door.

“Where’s Leliana?” Josie asked, now realizing her absence. Cassandra snorted.

“Why, right here.” Mel said, opening the door.

But who stood at the door was not the spymaster.

“Solas?” Josephine questioned, before Mel could find her voice.

"Perhaps he heard us?" Cassandra whispered to Josie. The Antivan whispered back, “No, he couldn’t have. Shhh! He is right there!”

They both weren’t capable of whispering quietly, especially when drunk. Mel fought the groan that tried to escape past her lips.

The spymaster had seen him standing outside the door. Why hadn’t she told the others inside? And why had she smiled at him like that? When Mel opened the door, the women inside looked different. Cassandra wasn’t in her usual armor, but in a flowing dress. He had to blink to recognize her, because she wasn’t scowling either. Her face was bright and merry. Josephine, perhaps, was the only one who looked the most like herself, albeit less burdened by responsibility.

When Mel came around from behind the door, she stunned him. Mel was wearing that dress.The one she wore at Halamshiral. That dress brought back memories of that night, along with the obvious attraction. It flattered her form, the seems stitched in just the right places to showcase her curves. He didn’t let his eyes linger there, and quickly snapped them up to her face. The silver embroidery brought out the startling blue of her eyes. He noticed the pink lining of her eyelids, and the slowness to which she blinked. A becoming flush had spread over her cheekbones and the bridge over her nose. If the blush wasn’t telling enough, the pungent smell of wine in the air was. They had all been drinking.

“Heard what exactly?” Solas asked, his lips pulling into an amused smirk. What did they talk about down here? He would have to ask her later.

“Nothing, vhenan.” Her messy mauve lips told him. He begged to differ. Solas smiled at her. however, that smile was short lived when he remembered why he was here.

The smiled had vanished from his face. Mel knew something was wrong. What was he holding? A parcel? “I am sorry to disturb you, ladies,” Solas said, his face grim.

“Has something happened?” Mel asked, his face instantly sobering her.

He sighed. The mood in the room instantly shifting as the two women behind her jumped to their feet. “Yes, I am afraid something has. I believe it would be better, if we spoke in private."

Panic surged through her. "No. Whatever news you have come bearing should be heard by my ambassador, spymaster, and commander."

"Vhenan, the Commander is on an assignment.” Solas said, his knuckles white from gripping the parcel.

“And what assignment might that be? Why wasn’t I informed?” She shook her head, shifting uneasily on her feet.

Leliana had chose then to return, holding a bottle in her hand. “I apologize for the wait. I got distracted—Did you know that Cullen and Dorian are painting in the rotunda?” She noticed Solas in the room. “Oh hello, Solas, I didn't see you there.” She said to him. Mel noted how his auburn brows knit together.

“I am sorry. Did I hear you incorrectly? Cullen and Dorian? Solas asked Leliana. Mel felt him tense beside her.

“Yes.” answered Leliana. Solas opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.

“Cullen? Painting?” Cassandra added, disbelief coating her tongue.

“It would appear so.” Leliana affirmed with a light laugh. “Also, Cullen asked when Solas would be back, and if the Inquisitor was all right?” She added, her voice serious once more.

“Mel.” Eir’melana corrected the spymaster. “Its Mel, Leliana.” She whirled to face Solas, her arms wide. “Why wouldn’t I be all right? What is going on?”

Solas cleared his throat. “I was getting to that, but I was interrupted.” and walked to the door, carrying that parcel with him. “Can we talk in the war room.” Mel folded her arms over her chest. Solas sighed. “All of us.”

Mel threw open the heavy doors of war room, and walked to the head of the ornate table. Solas had the distinct feeling he was being surrounded, as the other three ladies filed into the room.

The doors creaked slowly shut.

Only when they clicked shut with a final note did Solas set the parcel on the war table. He pushed it in front of Mel. She looked at it, then at him.

“What is this?” She asked, her tone fierce. Solas gulped, and she watched the lump slither down his throat.

“C-Commander Cullen sought me out to find you all. He received this from your clan, Mel.”

“I have been waiting to hear from them! I have been so worried!” Mel went to open the scroll tied to the parcel, only to see that the seal was broken. She paused, her hand hovering just above it.

“Why is the seal broken?” She asked him. He had steeled himself for this, but the blow still hit him in the chest like a fist.

“I,” He sighed through his nose. “I read it. I realize now that It was a mistake. Ir abelas.”

“Why would you read it? Why wasn’t this brought to me at once?” Mel’s voice rose. “Why did Cullen bring it to you?”

“Vhenan, please!” Solas pleaded. “I know what I did was inappropriate. I did not think, but when Cullen told me that—” Solas stopped himself.

“Told you what?” Mel prompted.

Sweat was dripping down his temple. “It would be preferable, if you read for yourself.” Solas said, wringing his hands underneath the war table.

Mel plucked the scroll up. “I wouldn’t read that one first!” Solas warned, but she didn’t head him.

She unfurled the scroll, her eyes raking down the page. Her hand began shaking. She looked at him over the quivering parchment. He felt the air grow heavy, before he saw the tears well up in her eyes. “Maema,” She breathed, her voice wispy like a spirit. She dropped the note. The hush it made as it landed on the floor was the only sound.

Then, Mel’s knees buckled and she had to catch the edge of the war table. Josephine rushed to her aid, before he could. But, Mel had brushed off the woman’s touch, and ripped open the parcel.

It was a lute made from birch bark. Her name carved into its side. Mel covered her mouth with her hands, and was weeping soundly. He heard them plunk against the hollow wood of the lute. Tears were falling now, and not only from Mel. Josephine, Leliana, and even Cassandra quietly displayed the tears on their cheeks. Solas could do nothing but watch as Mel plucked at its strings, as if she didn’t feel them or hear the beautiful sound they made.

“Vhenan,” He whispered, moving to touch her. She regarded him with her bright eyes, line red with despair. Heaviness slammed into him that wasn’t Cassandra’s hand pushing him back. Shestood between them, blocking his way to her.

“I believe you have done enough.” Casandra said to him, her scowl returning with a vengeance.

He flicked his eyes to his heart. “Mel?”

She didn’t even turn to face him. He saw her silently pick up the letter from Lady Guinevere.

“Go.” She whispered, her voice hollow. Cassandra was already backing him out of the room before the word left Mel’s trembling lips.

By the time, Solas had been escorted out of the war room, Eir’melana had read the letter. Twice. She held every word deep inside her, letting it scar.

Ambassador Montilyet,

I regret to inform you that a contingent of soldiers gathered from other cities in the Free Marches attacked Wycome and slew most of the elves within, including all of the Dalish clan.

They avoided attacking humans when possible, and were willing to meet with us once their bloody work was done. They professed shock that Duke Antoine had been using red lyrium and insisted that all they knew was that the elves had rebelled and killed the rightful rulers of the city.

This has all been branded a tragic misunderstanding, and the nobles who now rule Wycome insist that they will repay the Inquisition for this horrible mistake.

I await my return to Skyhold at your earliest convenience.

Yours, Lady Guinevere Volant.

Mel voiced the words over and over in her head. I regret to inform you...slew most of the elves...all of the Dalish clan...tragic misunderstanding. Her fist clenched around the letter, the anchor awakening.

“Are you all right?” Josephine asked, not moving to touch her this time.

“No.” Mel deadpanned. Her heartbeat pounding in her head. She wanted to scream, to crawl in her bed and never get back up, to—to.

Mel fell to her knees, and sobbed.

“Would you like us to leave?” Leliana asked, sounding like she was right beside her crumpled form. Mel peered up at them all through her wet lashes. Her friends. “Please don’t go.” She begged, her eyes pleading. ”I don’t want to be alone.”

So, they did not leave. Instead, they sunk to their knees with her, and held her tightly as she mourned.

#Sasshole's OC: Eir'melana Lavellan #Solas #solavellan #solavellan hell #solas x inquisitor #solas x lavellan #cassandra pentaghast #josephine montilyet #leliana #dorian pavus #cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition #da drunk writing #da drunk writing circle #dwc

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 7 years

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The Vindication of Venom Part 1: Introduction and Background Context

Part 2

This essay series is my attempt to address some of the criticisms surrounding the most famous Spider-Man villain of all time, Venom.

To be specific I will be tackling the original earliest portrayal of the character from Amazing Spider-Man #300 and the criticisms levelled at him in that issue.

I am not endeavouring here to look at the Lethal Protector era of Venom, the Daniel Way run of Venom or even versions of Venom from later on in the David Michelinie run of Spider-Man and make a case for why they aren’t so bad.

Fair warning, not only will there be SPOILERS if you’ve not read many Venom tales but this series as a whole is very lengthy. I will also be reusing images throughout these posts as reminders or to illustrate different points so apologies there. The same goes for some of my general points.

With that all said let’s kick off by laying down some foundations for what is to come.

Introduction

Long story short, my thesis boils down to two essential lines of argument (though there are some other points I will get into as well). These are:

a) That Venom/Eddie Brock was a more poorly conveyed character than an outright poorly conceived one. That is to say he isn’t a character who, as has often been the criticism, doesn’t inherently make sense. Rather the nuts and bolts of what makes him tick, whilst present when you look closely enough, are not made explained in the clearest way possible.

b) Readers of the past and present project expectations onto the character that are not in fact warranted by his original concept, or at least the original intentions for the character.

With that said, for the sake of context let’s give little bit of history on Venom leading into ASM #300 and his real life origins as they are vital to understanding people’s problems with the character and my proposed counterpoints.

Conception

In the mid-1980s writer David Michelinie was given the chance to write the recently launched Web of Spider-Man ongoing series. It was during his tenure as the writer of that series that he originally conceived of Venom, later bringing his ideas over to Amazing Spider-Man when he became the main writer of that book.

Michelinie’s original conception of the character though was drastically different to what we wound up with on the page in 1988. In a 2008 interview he explained in his own words the early thinking behind the character:

Initially she [Venom] was a woman...The whole idea is that whenever I write a character I try to utilize the unique aspects of that character. And one thing Peter Parker had that no one else had was his spider sense...Someone flings at him from behind its a reaction he doesn’t even think about it, he ducks. And this has saved his life so many times I started thinking ‘Well, what if there was a villain who didn’t trigger that spider sense? How would he react? How would he cope with that?’

And they had already established in Secret Wars that the black costume didn’t affect Peter’s spider sense. So I started working out a character who would join with the symbiote costume and actually be a villain...

...My original origin story had been a woman who was pregnant and...her husband was trying to flag a cab as she was going into labour, and a cabbie was driving along looking into the sky at the Living Monolith, tying it into that graphic novel, [Michelinie wrote the Graphic Novel in question] where Spider-Man was fighting the Living Monolith...and he hits the husband and kills the husband...the shock of this sends to woman into premature labour and she loses her child, all because the cab driver was watching Spider-Man. So she became unhinged and when she got out she had this fanatical hatred of Spider-Man, blaming him for the loss of her husband and their unborn child. And that drew the symbiote to her and she became one with the symbiote and was going after Spider-Man...

When Michelinie came to write ASM something special was required for the milestone ASM #300. To this end he proposed they use his Venom character, but then editor Jim Salicrup felt that the readers wouldn’t be able to accept a woman being a threat to Spider-Man. As such Michelinie revised his origin for Venom and we got the character we know today.

Now let’ take a look at Venom’s origins in the pages of the comics themselves.

Backstory

In the Marvel Super Heroes: Secret Wars maxi-series Spider-Man, among other characters, finds himself transported to the patchwork planet Battleworld to fight a group of super villains. Over time his costume is damaged and, on advice from other heroes, he seeks out an alien clothing machine. However he gets far more than he bargained for. Instead of simply replacing his traditional red and blue outfit Spidey now sports a sleek new black and white costume seemingly made of an extraterrestrial material that flows like liquid and responds to his very thoughts.

After taking the costume back to Earth and going through various other twists and turns in his life, Peter takes the costume to be analyzed by Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four where he discovers the truth about it. That is it not in fact a piece of clothing but in fact a symbiotic alien life form that does not wish to separate itself from Spider-Man.

The symbiote later escapes from the Fantastic Four and attempts to forcibly bond with Peter again in Web of Spider-Man #1.

Knowing the symbiote’s vulnerability to loud noises Peter frees himself by going to a church bell tower, although this puts his own life at great risk too. Unexpectedly the symbiote actually saves his life despite Peter’s rejection of it. This is because through being bonded to Peter the symbiote has begun to experience human emotions.

Though no one knew it at the time (and it wasn’t strictly speaking confirmed in-story until Amazing Spider-Man #388, published over 8 years later), the character we now know as Eddie Brock/Venom was first hinted at in Web of Spider-Man #18. In a single page Peter Parker casually awaits a train when a pink sleeved hand pushes him from behind into the tracks. Though he saves himself what is most alarming about the incident is how Peter’s spider sense never reacted to warn him of the danger.

Personally I think the pink coloured sleeve is a hint that this mysterious assailant was intended to be a woman.

A similar incident to the above occurs in Web of Spider-Man #24. Peter (sans his costume) is using his powers to walk on the outside wall of a building when a mysterious figure abruptly grabs his leg and detaches him from the wall sending him falling. Peter is alright but again he is alarmed by the lack of warning from his spider sense and presumes that the culprit of this incident and the one at the train station are one and the same.

On a side note the fact that the assailant was physically strong enough to detach Peter from the wall could have been a hint that they possessed a degree of super strength.

Though no readers knew it at the time, we got our next look at this assailant in Amazing Spider-Man #298 where he observed news clippings about Spidey and spoke about how he ruined his life and how he will soon return the favour.

We got our first full look at the character in the very next issue when he confronts Peter’s wife Mary Jane in their apartmen, giving birth to (for better or worse) a giant of the Spider-Man mythos.

In ASM #300 we finally got to see the face of our new villain and follow his activities leading into his climactic battle with Spidey.

And then of course, rather infamously, we got his origin story dropped on us.

He is Eddie Brock former reporter for the Daily Globe newspaper. During a killing spree perpetrated by the mysterious serial killer known only as the Sin Eater, Brock was contacted by Emil Gregg who confessed to being the Sin Eater. Brock published his story and later revealed Gregg’s identity to the world. However shortly thereafter Spider-Man captured Stan Carter who had been the real Sin Eater all along, Gregg merely being a mentally ill serial confessor.

Losing his job and reputation Brock hit very hard times and blamed Spider-Man for his misfortune, nursing a burning hatred for the wall-crawler.

Trying and failing to end his own life he found himself in the same church that Peter rid himself of the symbiote. The symbiote had grown to resent Spider-Man and sensing a mutual hatred in Brock bonded with him, granting him powers similar to the wall-crawler as well rendering themselves undetectable to his spider sense.

Armed with the knowledge of his secret identity they dubbed themselves Venom and embarked on their mission of vengeance by killing Spider-Man.

An important note to all of this is the fact that Brock’s recounting of the events surrounding the Sin Eater seemingly contradict the original story starring the character. In the original Sin Eater story arc (also known as ‘the Death of Jean DeWolff’) Emil Gregg dressed as the Sin Eater and invaded the Daily Bugle, where he was apprehended, Brock seemingly never playing a role in his capture.

I should mention that there are three mini-series which retcon certain elements into this backstory.

In Deadpool’s Secret Secret Wars, we discover that the insane mercenary Deadpool participated in the conflicts on Battleworld and actually wore the symbiote before Spider-Man, the story even alluding to Deadpool’s own mental conditions as contributing to warping the symbiote (and by extension it’s future hosts).

In AXIS: Carnage we revisit Emil Gregg who is operating as ‘the Sin Eater’, an apparently supernatural entity who literally consumes somebody’s sins. The story even outright states at one point that Eddie Brock was correct in his original outing of Gregg as the Sin Eater.

And finally during the Deadpool: Back in Black mini-series we see Deadpool once again bond with the symbiote a while after it was rejected by Peter Parker in Web of Spider-Man #1. It is in this mini-series that the symbiote first transforms into the fanged, long tongued monstrous visage we all know today. The story also hints that Venom’s very name comes from an encounter between the symbiote empowered Deadpool and Kraven the Hunter (the incident also apparently giving Kraven the idea to bury Spider-Man alive as seen in Kraven’s Last Hunt).

Whilst entertaining stories, since these stories are retcons stemming from non-Spider-Man titles (and also don’t make sense in some cases) I’m not going to take them into account going forward with this essay series.

The criticisms

Now we’ve laid out Venom/Brock’s origins we need to define what the main points of criticism are when it comes to Venom’s beginnings. Chiefly these amount to the following:

· The extraterrestrial origins of the symbiote are ill fitting for Spider-Man’s more grounded world

· The symbiote’s hatred of Spider-Man is contradictory to how it had been previously portrayed

· The symbiote is alive despite us seeing it die in Web of Spider-Man #1

· Other versions of the character (such as Spider-Man the Animated Series, Spider-Man 3 and the Spectacular Spider-Man Animated Series) all make Brock to be a much better dark reflection of Spider-Man than the original comic book version

· Brock was a previously unknown character who is unconnected to Peter Parker’s life in or out of his costume.

· Brock’s origin story involves rewriting events from the Sin Eater storyline to facilitate his fall from grace

· The reveal of Brock as Venom, especially in light of previous two points, is a bad resolution to the mystery story seeded in issues leading to ASM #300

· Eddie Brock’s motivations for hating Spider-Man are weak and make no sense, this being perhaps the single biggest point of contention surrounding the character

I am going to now try my best to address these criticisms in order although some of my points involve tackling more than one of them simultaneously, or otherwise weaving between them. Furthermore some of those points require multiple instalments to properly address, especially that last one.

Whilst I will endeavour to bring these point back up when appropriate please try to bear them in mind as we proceed going forward.

Part 2

#Spider-Man #Venom #Eddie Brock #David Michelinie #Peter Parker #Deadpool #Wade Wilson #Carnage #Sin Eater #Cletus Kasaday #spider-man the animated series #Spider-Man 3 #the spectacular spider-man animated series #marvel animation #symbiote #symbiotes #The Vindication of Venom

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