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The White Dove Pt 36 - Lizards and Letters

Had the thought to edit the next chapter and maybe post it early, if you're eager for more and don't want to wait a week for it let me know and I'll get it up sooner. :)

… Masterlist …

@jesevans @theincaprincess @lilith15000 @devilishminx328 @jiminapickle

***

“Now let’s lock you in place,” you muttered to the first partial scale to meet up with the broken remnant on the lowest left corner of the bite. Hooks on the back would latch onto the supporting beam you added. Into the slot the hooks eased and around the top of the scale you used a rubber mallet to bump it lower to not be able to wiggle free. Flush against the damaged half with a gentle whine of metal on metal to get it there it came to rest like the other twelve broken scales.

To the addition of your welder’s visor you heard the latest on the radio of a passing car, so called ‘Hero Registry’ was to be voted on as this in the latest act of the Avengers had damaged the city and endangered lives. Having only compounded the damage the green menace had committed, proven by the five other sightings where he did little to no damage at all besides using some knockout gas. Vigilante’s however were not up for discussion as of yet as compared to the Avengers targeted smaller scale criminals and kept to lesser populated areas to not bring innocents into the mix while promptly showing them out of the area once found upon their path.

“Unmitigated disaster,” you thought to yourself in the ignition of the torch. To seal the seam within the scales added, and then around the edges of them you hoped to ensure the seams were water tight. Bottom to top you welded the broken scales then in the lowest level you took the flat beam with raised grooves on it. To hold it one handed and weld it across the entire gap by means of a rolling stool that allowed you to remain level in the process.

Scans of the rest of the outer wall showed how the scaled met the flat panels across the very base, and like a shiny new penny with just that added you couldn’t help but smile at how it looked as far as restoration ease would come after this. Scale number one was lifted as the torch was set down on the ground to be the first scale to rest beside the one you just welded to lock into place.

One layer was done before you knew it, and then you lifted off the seat to stand and leap up to pull yourself onto the deck so you could wiggle down the side of the mast to get into the lower level. Bee behind you the path to the gap was traced to watch you with a pocket flashlight you brought to inspect the backside of that row of scales. “Not that bad,” you muttered in a slide on your side to look at the next section over to see little spots to weld.

Back up to the mast slot you pulled yourself back onto the deck to cross it and get back to the chair. Off that you stepped to grab the visor and torch to seal around the seams, which would lead to another trip inside to double check the seams and back out again to start on the next row up. Slightly more to the left to fill in a gap of a scale torn free you began and bit the inside of your lip at the same whine of metal on metal to fit the base within the row you had just finished.

Through the space between two beams Eddie’s head came into view with Venom poking out from beside his face, “Red and Blue has a youtube page now. Calling himself Spiderman. Stopped an suv from hitting a bus and caught a pick pocket.”

“Hmm,” you said making him chuckle as you eyed the next portion of the row you were on covering half of the bite hole. “Must be the one who followed Misique’s page.”

“Looks seamless here, Sis. Need some arms for the next few rows?”

“That would help, ya, could get the gap done by supper.”

“Now that’s a hell of a costume.” The words turned the owl themed statuesque figure with a mask and cape that hung dramatically around their intricate feather accentuated layers that came into view a moment in their turn to see you hop off a light pole from the roof you were in wait on. Two days ago you had heard from Luke Cage about this odd owl guy your Seal guy was spouting off about but hadn’t seen what they were up to aside from hovering around the proximity of a smaller branch of a bank. “Normally people just phone it in, I really don’t even know how you want to fight in that, the hours it must have taken.” Compliments one after another had the newly named Spiderman curiously perched in his place he’d been hiding having spotted Misique back in town to see what you were up to.

Almost an hour later talks moved to a park nearby. After a stop at a food stand, the evidently far from willing to harm people new ominous figure going by WhoMan sat with you just spilling all their desires to make it in the plushie business that their father who ran that small bank said would make them a failure in his eyes. “Then make plushies.” You said and they scoffed, “What do you want to make plushies of?”

And they grew quiet a few moments then on their unseen smart watch when they folded their sleeve back pulled up images of small made plushies of bees and various colored versions of Venom with various hats making you smile. “Those are adorable.”

“I cannot survive on dreams alone.”

“I have 700k followers on my youtube page,” you said making them look to you from their mournful look at the images. “You make a supply and a page on etsy and I’ll make a small ad in one of my videos and add a link. I have a friend with near a million followers on instagram and I’ll have them link it too with some pictures.”

“You would do that?” They asked in shock making Spiderman hiding in a tree inch up a bit more in shock at what you were up to.

“Do you know how many stress hulk toys they have for sale in gas stations? Or even Hawkeye Nerf archery toys? I can talk to the other Vigilantes and see if they’ll be up to giving you more muses. If anything you can use the costume as a marketing ploy if you make the page owl themed. Might have to dig out a series of contracts to settle image percentages but they should agree.”

“Thank you,” they said in shock and an email was traded to further talks as the pair of you split up. Alone along a back path through the park you strolled saying to one of the trees you passed, “Good to see you are keeping off the western alleys tonight, Spiderman.”

Anxiously out of the tree he dropped and looked around to hurry to your side asking, “You um, why’d you do that? I mean, I didn’t expect you to just talk to the person.”

“They haven’t hurt anyone. Luke Cage said they merely prowled around that bank weirding him and his family out. I hurt people who hurt people. Not a danger to dream about making plushies. Having daddy issues doesn’t mean you have earned a death sentence.”

He nodded and asked, “Up to anything cool tonight I can help with?”

“Heard some of Kingpin’s thugs are troubling people on the bridges again.”

“That sounds awesome!” he whispered to himself and readied as you did to rush to meet the bus you’d both ride on top of the roof to get to the other side of town where Venom descended to help out his baby sister and a fellow web slinger. One that gave vague flash backs to when you had first showed up, this was another kid out on the prowl with powers to prove useful, though this time with less of a sordid back story.

An alarm afterwards had the teen bouncing on his toes for the call of a clown crew who had been bothering people since a seedy circus had been rolling through town far out of season to be up to any good.

“Pluto! There you are! I’m so thrilled you could make it!” Dr Connors paused a moment asking, “I didn’t wake you too early?”

“Oh I was up, some shelves were misbehaving at the candle shop and apparently I am the only one capable of engineering a new set of shelves,” you answered with a grin reaching up to fix your lopsided ponytail following his waving arm to usher you in deeper through his lab.

Cellular regeneration. Amongst many uses would include enhanced healing and even the coveted gem of regrowing limbs. Something you knew the one armed man to covet the dream of achieving one day to have his second hand back. For all his excitement and vigor in launching this new compound into study within the notes you could see there were major flaws in just the simple skim of a few seconds he allowed you in hasty flips of pages.

No account to which gene being triggered or how the lizard DNA would bond to it. There was no symbiosis involved, merely genetic level mutation. Something new entirely. While your parents’ work centered on waking what the human code already had this would kick start it by allowing a predatory gene pool into a new host body surely doomed to only lure on a new take on Frankenstein’s Monster.

But he was happy, and plotting to keep Norman Osborn happy in his latest ever growing urge for more genetic adaptations to have available within the labs. Ones he could try on himself if he dared like he’d dosed himself three times with the Goblin serum to heal from wounds Clint had given him on his stealthier to the public requested shadow of the green menace they wondered why Misique was allowing him to remain loose.

Talk of injury was a possibility that had her out of commission after their first encounter, though sight of the newly named to the public Spiderman The Lizard was evidently her goal. More than one person had encountered this new giant amphibian who seemed enraged in the mere presence of humans. And with the big turkey day parade everyone was eager to have the menace under wraps to enjoy the day of celebration.

“Okay we got two hours before I’m supposed to be in bed to get four hours before the parade,” you said. Hanging onto the back of Venom’s neck while he swung building to building to follow the latest trace of the giant now apparently bent by the notes you had found on spreading this cure to the human overpopulation problem within this bustling city.

Wrapped in broken webbing the very public tussle in a car locked intersection ended with you dragging The Lizard back down into the manhole he had burst from to escape from you. Screams and muffled body slams into walls and streams of flowing liquid below had bodies climb out of their cars to lose all sense of reason or time to see who would win this battle of wills. “Okay, I got the stuff you wanted!” Spiderman said trotting up to the manhole he leapt right into and was heard exclaiming, “Hey!” a body slamming into stone had people flinch then smirk in wonder at his shouting, “Not cool man!”

“I have his torso, Sister!” Venom was heard exclaiming to roars and loud struggles of the fight below had the cops on guard around the intersection holding bodies back until a sudden flash of glittering yellow glowed out through the manhole and sewer openings nearby then one last loud roar cut short had silence overtake the crowd to a moment of worry.

“What do we do?” Spiderman was heard whispering far too loudly then sloppily out of the manhole The Lizard rose shoulders first stirring gasps from the crowd until at once his body flung up to collapse heavily onto the road exposing his broken neck and jaw. Both that rolled and bent in unsettling ways as Spiderman finished climbing up out the manhole to hoist the body up he hurried to carry over to the side of a cop car.

Face to face with Captain Stacy he cleared his throat to say deeper than his natural voice went, “SHIELD’s gonna want that. Um, Misique’s tired. Goodbye.” Then sprung to gather up the webbing that still blocked off the intersection. Just so he could scurry back down the manhole webbing the lid shut behind him.

Over his shoulders Venom had both your groggy self and unconscious Dr Connors, now shirtless who you used a formerly used once power of dissecting genetic codes in a mixed breed of flower to split his original self and the lizard code overtaking his mind and body. Spidey had to go home, and at Eddie’s place Dr Connors woke up on the couch and promptly shot up. “Hey hey, careful there buddy. Had to stick a monitor on you, kept doing this weird twitch on us.” Eddie said hurrying from the kitchen with a warm mug of water and a teabag he’d not yet unwrapped. “Got you some tea, take it easy.”

“I’m, not a fan of the Buccaneers…” the scientist said now in notice of his loaned shirt he had on to go with the matching sweatpants in a look over himself. Up around the warm cup his hand rose to claim it. “Thank you, where am I?”

“My place. Misique dropped you here. We didn’t know where you left your stuff and the lab has security out the wazoo this time of year, couldn’t just hoist you up and drag you there to look for keys and an ID so we’d know where to take you.”

“Why am I here?” he asked, still a bit confused on how he spaced from being in his lab feeling a transformation coming on as he readied to try his latest way to entrap his other self to not escape.

“Well, not sure if you realize it, but you’ve been growing a tail past couple weeks or so, at least as far as headlines go, could be longer for all we know. I mean, it’s an impressive tail don’t get me wrong. But um, you’ve been trying to eat people, and well your other half, the um, one with the tail tried to set off a gene bomb, to, well, turn everyone in New York into lizards too.” Deeply Dr Connors let out a breath and Eddie nodded patting his hand atop the shoulder of his amputated arm. “I know. Have to say though, it was a hell of a bomb plan, Pluto looked it over, really incredible stuff, we, would suggest burning the notes before Norman his hands on it, but they’re really good even if the other guy came up with it for evil and all that.”

“Pluto,” Dr Connors muttered then looked around taking in a sharp breath, “I didn’t hurt her, did I?”

“Oh no,” Eddie said pointing out the mess of covers atop his round lounge across from the couch Venom stretched the scientist across. “Has to leave for the parade in two hours. I couldn’t sleep, promised to watch you.”

Dr Connors nodded and stole a glance at the wrinkled sleeve hanging off the end of his amputated arm stump to let out a sigh. “Back to the drawing board.”

Eddie chuckled and he looked up to see your brother shake his head, “Oh, you really, don’t get it.” And he reached out to the end of the loose sleeve to ease it up his arm parting the man’s lips seeing his arm a few inches longer nearly to the elbow.

“How…?” he asked frailly.

“Well, Misique was able to split your genetic codes, only well, she sort of tripped your regeneration button thing on the way out. Pluto really can explain it better than I can. But, the monitor is on your temple there,” he said tapping the headband the scientist now felt acutely aware of at a notice of the wire dangling from it. “Pluto put on a blocker for your pain receptors,” dropping the man’s jaw causing Eddie to wave a hand. “Just sticks on, non invasive. Threw out my back once and it works wonders, trust me. Thing is the regeneration is painful, and it’s gonna take some time so we have a friend who is gonna house you in Spain and you can wait out the arm growth there.”

“But, my research. How am I going to explain this?”

Eddie’s head ticked to the side, “You got a team for watching your spiders, and well you can always say Misique burned your notes or messed with your formula is a deviously secretive way, or something. But, you’re um, gonna want to avoid getting hurt in the future.”

“Why?”

“Well you had a two inch deep gash on your thigh and it healed in ten minutes. You got super healing buddy, blessing and a curse. Plus no telling if you’ll age so SHIELD might want to have a chat down the line but um, again, you can always pin it on Misique. She’s pretty reliable like that.”

“Why did she do this?” Dr Connors whispered and his eyes dropped, “I, broke one of the most sacred of lines between science and creation, I played god. Why wouldn’t she leave me as a lizard to punish me?”

“Well because lizard you was edging towards evil. And she’s got a huge thing about more than necessary predators in a territory, huge on balance, would have had to introduce a new food source, or call for a hunting season. Then with how the military is they’d just blow up the city anyways and call it a day killing the people who didn’t grow a tail and possibly not harming the lizards, we really don’t know how resilient that guy could have been. But he’s dead now, and you’re you again, with a new limb that isn’t a tail.”

Eddie said smiling at the scientist who couldn’t help but chuckle and take a sip of the tea. “While Pluto’s at the parade I’ll drive you over to where you hid your stuff, your place to pack, then the airstrip and we got a nice list of excuses we drafted up if you need help with that. Bet you have tons of time off saved up and you just take all the time you need.” Eddie smiled again and all Dr Connors could do was relax, at least for a few moments until he had to wonder just how painful this change would be without the device and just how he might have reacted to have had you put the device on him in the first place to ease his suffering.

*.*.*

“Okay, this is cool,” Peter muttered to himself. With an armful of stuff he had dug out the back of an electronic store dumpster of things to turn in for credit not the latest generation of tech. Cool stuff could be made out of each of them to continue his latest stream of income to fix and sell the things online.

On the cusp of December there was a surge of goods to dig out of the snow littered dumpsters. Over his bed the items were laid out only on the drift of his eyes to the far right he caught a glimpse at his mysterious backpack. Five times now he had thought he lost that by not knowing when trash day was where he would leave it only to return back to his room and find it inside his bedroom against the wall under the window he crawled in and out of. Still he had no clue on who was bringing it back as his aunt was clueless, having been searching for him at sight of it inside his open bedroom before, only causing him to fumble out a story making him feel worse at the spare lies he had to tell.

“Alberforth Mercury Hedgecrofterson,” Peter muttered to himself, reading the name off the bank mail he picked up from his new p.o box under that same name. Each time he read it only made it seem more ridiculous, although once he opened he envelope he pulled out a burner phone he had for this account as well to activate the card inside to have access to the account. Funds from new tech flipping job was meant to help raise his night life to a new level.

Five sets of his sweatpants and hoodies for his costume had to be made up for replacements due to tears or complete splits of the material that had him on the prowl for a new costume. Dog eared, a sheet within a notebook a website was saved, and an hour later after some work on his mostly completed project he posted a notice on that to his page for sale then typed up the new website for the material. Just like bobsledders the stretchy supposed resilient option to clothe himself with was ordered in red and blue with lengths to spare. Question of who could make his own costume at a skilled level to last longer had him order more in black and yellow to offer as payment to his hopeful tailor in this matter.

Sheepishly he did hand off the material when Misique had agreed amusingly to the task had by means of a body scan had accurate measurements and started to use the same bees to begin design ideas he helped to make up the costume he would anxiously await this upgrade to his image as a fellow masked vigilante.

*.*.*

“It’s a bit, pirate,” you said, trying on the jacket to your new costume.

That hung over the pants that hinted more towards chaps. The gifted sporting material laid over sections of your metal that strapped on down your legs up to a belt holster to sit over your usual heavily pocketed pants that would supply the pockets for the chaos that has hidden openings between metal panels to allow access to said pockets. The yellow and black material in alternating diagonal and horizontal strips would contort and shift your natural leg shape to something closer to a bee’s from the front and back to hopefully hide the weak points you could get shot and wounded at, as well as hopefully confusing the aim of people with only seconds to fire your way.

A simple turtle neck top in yellow and black layered with more holsters and pockets would be layered with a flat breastplate to connect to a plate for your back as well, both in what Vibranium panels you had the energy to make this week stitched between layers of your metal to triple enforce your torso at least. The black jacket with buttons you took a good while to choose the perfect design of bees to press into the silver your hive printed hugged your arms and flared out from the waist with a larger lapel that would hide a waterproof hood in case of rain on stakeouts.

Embroidered golden patterns of honeycomb helped to hide the openings for spare grappler chords and blades down the sleeves that felt a bit tight at first over your bee metal arm braces but loosened up to rotations of both limbs. The jacket would sit open, being stitched to a black vest that had more pockets and holsters and allow free range of hand motions to reach back and draw out the axes that rested over the back of your hips. “I’m a pirate in chaps.”

“I love it!” Eddie said and gave you a tight hug making you giggle. “And it’s so bright, tons of metal packed in, or at least a good fifty pounds of it. Much better than the double weighted old Kevlar.”

Venom oozed out to say, “This suits you better, Sister. Now none can compare to your style or stamina.”

“Just hope Peter won’t mind the improvements on his mask.”

“Boy was racing around in goggles, you improved his focus no doubt and he won’t have to stop if it fogs up on him like wither the clowns. Difference between scurrying away and being shot in the thigh.”

Again you turned to see all the angles of your new costume and sighed, “I can hear Stark and his puns now.”

“Oh he’s got no pun game over a swashbuckling bee,” he said making you smirk, “You could make one of those freeze and lightning guns you’ve been tweaking into a canon.”

“I could. Definitely could. No one would see the canon coming.”

“Especially if you make it really small and they’re all confused at you setting it down then running to hide before it just blasts a huge hole in something.” His chuckles blended with yours in the game of imagining new obscure weapons while you worried slightly at having the more figure flattering silhouette layers to have you less of a blocky body shape than your old armor.

Still sixteen you didn’t want the attention Black Widow got online when she was seen in her leather jumpsuit tactical gear. But at least for your comfort the jacket would cover your rear end and the chest plate would conceal the curve of your bust just leaving from the knee down to be ogled shamelessly by those who only cared to know the shape of flesh under your layered armor. The gloves however to your tries to improve the gap between fingers the new armored backs had a finger on each hand a bit stiff that would take more tweaking and have you don your old pair for the night delivery.

Loudly Spidey gasped, fully in his new suit, having changed inside one of the empty buses in the lot you had agreed to meet him in for the trade off. “You even improved the face mask.” Soft whirs barely audible to either of you showed expression in the eyes to shrink and grow disguising his natural eyes and help to filter light and air quality when needed.

“I can make a new one with goggles if you get nostalgic.”

And firmly he gave you a tight hug, “I love it! Thank you so much! So much better than I could have ever done!”

“Before I forget, belly pouch,” that had him gasp.

And exclaim, “I have a belly pouch?!” He asked easing his fingers into the hidden pouch accessible on both sides of his abdomen layered with some of the bee metal you shared you’d layered onto the abdomen, back and limbs. “Where else do I have pockets?!” The front of his hips had one each and down the thigh were two small pockets in a line going down to the shin with one on the inside and outside of his lower legs like the hidden pair on the inner and outer forearms that had him hug you again.

“I would never send you out without pockets.” You said and he pulled back again bouncing on his toes.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten! And I’m really jealous of your coat!” He said circling you making you giggle.

“Didn’t realize it was so piratey till I finished.”

“Pirates are awesome! Are you kidding?” He said stopping in front of you and bounced again, “Can we go try them out? Or make a video? Or do both? Can we do both?!”

And with a giggle you answered, “Alright, we can do both. Just have to get home soon, have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Absolutely!”

*.*.*

“Arr you kidding me, Bee? Pirate?!” Tauntingly Stark had gone after your new suit on his social page before he went to a meeting in the morning, the latest of the continuing saga of terms to be founded for the Heroes of the Avengers to abide by on future missions.

After which he could only scoff in seeing your response to the taunt, “At least my abs aren’t etched on my armor.”

“Oh this is war,” he muttered heading to his gym, “You want abs, I’ll show you abs, Queenie.”

*.*.*

Across the counter as you whipped up a breakfast for you Chester read the open letter you got from Sweden. Mentally he shared the text that this was a notice that the research company your parents worked with and still were trying to recreate their work had petitioned to have you noted as emancipated in Sweden.

Normally this would not be done by a third party, but as the patents and files your parents left behind were sealed and solely belonging to you they were unable to help anyone. And since the blip the greatest cause of death in Scandinavia now was genetic disorders that gradually broke down various parts of the body, the main focus of your parents’ life work. In unlocking your status as a minor there they could in the least offer up payment to borrow the knowledge of the patents or notes left behind for a designated time to get the study back up and actually turning their wheels instead of stuck in the ditch.

Within the notice as you loaded up your plate you were told was a form you could return to the office this was sent from to inform a judge you did not wish to be involved within any emancipation case, as it most likely would require a trip back to Sweden to have it concluded in person. That was where you were stuck however. In delaying the process people could suffer and die. While in waiting as well you could have no access to prove you had completed the work your parents had dreamed of to reproduce the solution your father had created to test amongst others on your mother. Who showed marked improvement to daily function and no sign of Wilson’s disease in her blood before she died proving in time she could have regained most if not all of her lacking bodily functions the disease had imposed upon her.

You knew how to make more. And had even built a small portable machine to help adapt the process even quicker than standard machines available today in practically all genetic labs. Within the same day of arrival you could prove its worth and have a research group study to impose the compound upon donated tissues and genetic samples to prove it irradiates the diseases. A first step to eventual human trials to one day have direct treatment for anyone who can make it to the office it is supplied at once proper genetic standard of being was reached as far as vitals went to soften the blow of the whopper of a medicinal dose to said patients.

You would just have to go home. The last word echoed in your mind as you tried to picture the office you had been taken to a few times where they dropped by when your parents weren’t inside their home lab. Some reason every room you toured in your memory the walls shifted to be coated in paisley paper even though you knew it to be mainly green forest portraits on wallpaper. From Buster however you realized at his buzz he was sharing it was the paisley tie man being seen in the street corner in his usual morning stroll to work that had you hurry to finish getting ready as you were going to be late.

“Hey!” off the ladder up to a rooftop you hopped onto the roof to find a money bag wielding individual in a striped shirt and corduroy pants turn. His body halfway morphing to sand readying to fight only to pause at the glint of gold in your palm and dangling from it off the chain linked to the locket he had dropped. In just a hat, jacket, t shirt and jeans with boots barely able to keep from sliding on the slick fresh slushy snow coating the roof you moved closer. “Dropped this.”

“You aren’t afraid of me?” he assumed to have just thought the words and not spoken them only to notice your smirk in the shift of the chunky braid laid across your chest gathering more loose snowflakes as they fell.

“She isn’t, why should I be?”

You asked and he let out a wry chuckle, “You’re that girl, the one who knows Venom.”

“That’s me,” you said as he timidly leaned in to let you secure the necklace around his neck so he wouldn’t drop it again. “You should take Helm to 35th.”

“You aren’t even going to ask?”

“About the money?” you asked and he nodded. “Alright, since I must, why?”

“I borrowed money, Penny, she was sick. Misique helped get her better. No more bills or, insurance hassles. Brand new marrow. But, I borrowed money before, I got locked up, they’re trying to take our home.”

“Well, anyone asks, I came up for the moonlight.” You said making him chuckle, “I am a Pagan after all. Wild about moonlight and just mad as a hatter.” With a giggle you turned to peer up at the moon granting him a signal to continue on his way, for your blind observance to the sound of sand pooling over the side of the buildings he crossed to get the distance.

This wasn’t the first one you had let off the hook who owed loan sharks from prior debts before your medical overhaul, and often you had taken to going from loan shark to loan shark to gain names of those who owed and amounts to help find means to pay off those debts. Often mints with pools of cash to be destroyed was an easy fix, and often they really didn’t care, when you got involved they were known to forgive those with reasoning like this man’s.

A bird overhead had you turn in its warning that a colorful male had come up behind you, the bird knowing by the red leather that was taken as a mating tactic to allure females by his bright colors here to face off with your navy blue jacket and hat clad self. “Daredevil, right?” you asked halting him in his try to chase after Sandman while Spiderman rounded up a group of petty car thieves who had distracted him not far away.

“Yes, are you hurt?”

“No,” you said moving closer, “Could I ask you a few questions?”

“Miss, I’m currently trying to apprehend a criminal.”

“Sandman, I know. But I think I might have a bigger fish that could require your skills than a man paying off a loan shark.”

“Loan-,” he sighed, “This is the fifth guy this week I’ve ran into on those damn sharks. Let me guess, medical bills?”

“Baby girl needed a transplant,” you said making him turn away a moment groaning to himself mid flex of fingers around his red cane he had been gripping to not drop. “Up for a walk?”

“Where we headed? And what sort of questions did you mean?”

“Well, my brother’s a reporter,”

“I don’t-,” he said falling silent at your hands resting on his arm above the elbow to guide him back to the ladder.

“Not about you, more a tap of a sort of mindset to help with a general feel for the city in a wider piece. All anonymous, mind you.”

“I’m listening.” He said actually growing more intrigued at the story the more you walked to where you found a warehouse with some real criminals in good use of a fear of a certain devil to be put in them since you were nowhere near to your place to change.

The sun set early these days as winter went on and right to the theater you went to change and be helped into costume making note of all that was said to hand over to Eddie afterwards when he would pick you up. Grateful as ever more notes to add to a bigger backsplash of a story would be pooled and savored by your big brother, who over a supper afterwards while he rubbed your sore feet and legs to help coax what he knew you were holding in since first receiving that letter the other day.

Tears were a given, flooding from years of fear for what might happen if you ever went back to Sweden or your hometown again. As if your return meant more people closest to you were doomed when you did. Even with a man eating Symbiote inside of him you were afraid of losing Eddie for what you truly felt to be a second murder of your causing. To be completely alone again to face the unknown chaos drawn to you, and surely with this letter more was on its way.

Pt 37

#Escaped Child Assassin #Eddie Brock #Venom #Dr Connors #The Lizard #Spider-man #Peter Parker #Tony Stark #Ship repairs #WhoMan #Secret Identities #Sandman #Daredevil #New Suits #Side Hussle #Marvel

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educatedamateur · 9 months

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The Meaning of Christmas--An Essay About Christmas Movies, Nihilism, and Life

It seems like finding “the meaning of Christmas” has become such an integral part of every Christmas story and Christmas experience, that one could say that “finding the meaning of Christmas” has become part of the meaning of Christmas. In this way, many Christmas movies and stories act as allegories for life as a whole; a microcosm for humanity’s more general search for meaning in a universe seemingly devoid of it.

On the one hand, we have characters like the Grinch or Ebenezer Scrooge who represent a nihilistic view of reality. Life possesses no inherent meaning, so there is no reason not to pursue selfish gain or wallow in misanthropy. Certainly, the cruelty of the world and more specifically humanity (or Whomanity) makes this conclusion easy to come to, attractive even. In the modern era especially, it is easy to become disillusioned with the merry image of holidays past when we are bombarded by the hyper-commercialized, over-stimulating hellscape that is late-stage capitalism; abuses of the imperialist and colonial eras of the recent and not so recent pasts makes a uniform rejection of any and all aspects of western culture even more attractive, leading to more people pointing to the inherent hypocrisy of the Christian imagery and coopted pagan rituals combined with one another and awkwardly juxtaposed with blatant profit-seeking.

And yet…

Whether it is called Christmas, or Yule, or Hanukkah, or Kwanza, or any one of several dozen other terms, we still are captivated by the mid-winter celebration. The time of the year when no crops are grown, when the world seems its most dead and cold, is when we choose to—for whatever cultural reason we desire or believe—come together and choose to celebrate and partake of arguably the most human part of our collective experience: community.

From a strictly anthropological perspective, humans’ ability to work together and operate as a collective unit has been the most effective evolutionary trait we ever developed. Yes, we have our oversized brains to thank for developing tool use and other survival strategies, but none of these things would be nearly as effective without cooperation and complex social organization. Our ability to socialize with one another is, in my opinion at least, the most important factor that makes us human. Is it any wonder, then, that we choose to celebrate this aspect of our species at the time of year when it is most crucial that we remember it? In Darwinian terms, any activity which promote social cooperation at a time when resources are scarce and such cooperation is vital would confer an enormous survival advantage for the societies that engaged in it, and thus be selected for.

But somehow, we can all sense that there’s more to it than that. More than just the simple calculus of evolutionary survival.

Humanity’s search for meaning is as old as Humanity itself. Ever since we became able to abstractly reason, we began to question our reality. Why are we here? Is there any reason for all this? Why is there something rather than nothing?

Why do we suffer?

Why are we so cruel to each other? Why is the universe so cold and cruel, so unfeeling?

We invented and hypothesized many answers to these questions over the millennia, from creation myths to scientific theories, cosmograms to cosmological models. We invented culture and art and dance and music and so many other ways to make our lives brighter. In our darkest moments, we know, thought we are loathe to admit it, that we invented these things to distract ourselves from a deeply Uncomfortable Truth: that nothing matters; there is no meaning to all of this; it’s all random.

People, especially in our modern era which prizes cold reason and rationality, often get lost within this Uncomfortable Truth. We become desponded, depressed. We become angry, misanthropic, hostile. There is no meaning to our suffering, so we seek anything to alleviate our pain. In this situation, many choose to placate themselves by pandering to their Ego: pretending that they are superior to all those who profess belief in the meaning of life and Christmas. There is no God, there is no meaning. Wake up and smell the shit, we’re all living in it; you should grow up and accept the meaninglessness of your life! Bah! Humbug!

And yet…

In November of the year 2000, a live action adaptation of the famed Dr. Seuss book How the Grinch Stole Christmas, starring Jim Carrey, was released in theaters. This movie expanded on the lore of past adaptations by showing that the Grinch’s misanthropy was only partly due to his inherent cussedness—he was bullied in a traumatic even that destroyed even his atrophied sense of faith in the meaning of Christmas/Life. He spent the next few decades living apart from society and cultivating his hatred for the community that had rejected him. The Whos certainly were to blame for traumatizing and ostracizing the Grinch, but reality is a relationship between subjects and objects, and the Grinch also chose to reject all aspects of the society that rejected him, even to his own long-term detriment.

We see that the Grinch, despite his obvious intellect, physical strength, and inventiveness, is clearly suffering from his isolation, despite his own self-deception to the contrary. He still defines himself in reference to the society he hates, as excluded from it; even in his misanthropy, he cannot fully disengage from the community. The community has a responsibility to face up to its mistreatment of the Grinch, but the Grinch must also face up to his misunderstanding of the nature of community.

We see that the Grinch is capable of understanding this—when he is given the community’s highest award and given a place of honor in their celebrations, he gradually begins to embrace celebration, becoming more enthusiastic as the night goes on, and the community celebrates with him…right up until things go wrong.

Here we must talk briefly about someone else—the mayor.

The mayor is a lot more like the Grinch than is immediately obvious. He is misanthropic and selfish, as we see in his childhood when he bullies the Grinch. Like the Grinch, he true as recognized the Uncomfortable Truth of the meaninglessness of life, but where the Grinch chose to retreat from society and hate what he perceived as the falseness of it, the mayor chose to embrace the illusion and manipulate it for his own gain. He is just as nihilistic as the Grinch: he doesn’t believe in community, only in materialism.

When the mayor triggers the Grinch by reminding him of his past traumas, he is intentionally reminding the Grinch about the Uncomfortable Truth. “You don’t matter,” he is saying without words. “None of this matters. It’s all about the gifts, and I have more than you, so I’m better than you.” It is this which prompts the Grinch’s later actions; his attempt to spite the society he hates by destroying and stealing their material possessions, which in his view is all that matters. He is trying to rip aside the veil of illusion and reveal to the Whos that their society is an ugly lie.

But in so doing, he inadvertently gives them the greatest gift of all. By stripping away the illusion that is materialism, he reveals what they have left: each other.

Neither the Grinch nor the mayor can understand this. They run headlong into the Second Uncomfortable Truth: that the illusion is reality. Because if Nothing Matters, then Everything does.

And it destroys them.

The mayor is devastated by the loss of his material possessions, by the loss of his control over the community, and the Grinch is shocked and bamboozled by his inability to destroy the faith of the Whos in their society. The difference between them lies in how they react. The mayor refuses to let go of his Ego. He has built a shell of materialism and pride to protect himself from hurt, and he scrabbles at what few fragments remain when the illusion is stripped away, desperately rejecting the Second Truth. But the Grinch does something different, and this is critical; this is the lesson that we must take.

He entertains the notion that he was wrong.

Just for a moment, but a moment is all it takes. He opened the window, a tiny crack in his protective shell of materialism and hate. And the bright, hot, searing light of the Second Truth strips him of his defense mechanisms and lays his soul bare before the light of the rising sun.

Awakening is a painful process, even physically so, and this was true of the Grinch. He is physically in agony by the process and cries out that he is dying. He is dying. His Ego, the carefully crafted façade of identity that he painstakingly cobbled together over the years just like the junk machinery in his lair was being burned away by the Truth, leaving him raw and feeling everything he never let himself feel before. The Ego struggles to preserve itself, but the process once started cannot be stopped, and the Ego must die for him to grow into the being he was always meant to be.

The process that Ebeneezer Scrooge went through was slightly different from that of the Grinch, but only in the details, and was no less intense for it.

Scrooge’s wounding by society was a more gradual one. As he grew older, he was worn down by the aggressively mercenary attitude of 19th century London, such that he became bitter and miserly. The childlike wonder of his youth was eroded until all that was left of him was a hollow shell, his material wealth and possessions becoming the only things he valued in the world. Unlike the Grinch though, Ebeneezer does have other people in his life, his nephew Fred and his employee Bob Cratchit. It is these two, and a pair of gentlemen seeking charity donations, that serve to highlight Scrooge’s attitude towards the world and his view on the material world. He mocks his nephew for celebrating instead of seeking wealth, castigates Cratchit for asking for a day off, and rants to the charity seekers about the uselessness of the poor using language that could be construed as genocidal.

Yet all of these people presenting opposition to Scrooge’s worldview are necessary for planting the seed of his transformation. Their words echo through his mind and shake the foundations of his protective shell of Ego. But their words would not have had such an effect if it weren’t for the initial catalyst for Scrooge’s transformation, the death of his business partner Jacob Marley.

Marley had died seven years before the events of the story, and while Ebeneezer Scrooge seems outwardly unaffected, it later becomes clear that his own mortality is weighing on him. Death and its inevitability is a theme that appears constantly in so many stories across human history. It forces us to confront the Uncomfortable Truth, and for someone who only believes in materialism, this is especially terrifying.

Scrooge’s fear of his own rapidly diminishing mortality combines with the words of Fred, Cratchit, and the charity workers to plant a seed of doubt in his mind, a crack in his shell. This leads to the supernatural events which follow, something that Scrooge’s purely materialistic worldview would never have allowed, were it not for the chink in his armor.

What followed was a protracted Ego death, the unstoppable process which began with a vision of his dead business partner warning him of everything that he feared; that the armored shell he had crafted to protect himself from the cruelty of the world would become his chains in death. He is then taken on a journey; he is shown his past, representing his inner child who still believed in the joys he had forgotten; he is shown the present, and those who embraced joy and love and community despite the harshness of the world around them, and their lives were made better for it.

Finally, he is shown the thing he fears most in the world: the loss of everything in death. His material possessions sold off or stolen, people being glad of his death, and the fact that all of his materialism amounted to nothing more than a lonely grave that no one mourned. The only mourning came from those mourning the loss of another whom they had loved dearly, a counterpoint to his own un-mourned passing.

In some depictions of the story, Scrooge, in a scene more befitting a horror movie, is pulled into his own grave by ghostly chains. In other versions, he merely collapses upon his own grave in tears. In either case, the symbolism is the same: the old version of him must die—his Ego must die—for him to have hope of growing beyond himself.

The experience that Scrooge and the Grinch undergo differ only in details. The end result is the same: they are changed men.

When Scrooge awakens he feels light as a feather, freed from the unconscious burden of constantly shielding his inner child from the cruelties of the world, and instead embracing the goodness of all things, the importance of all things. He makes massive donations to charity, raises Bob Cratchit’s standard of living, and becomes closer with his nephew’s family.

Grinch embraces his dog Max and saves Cindy Lou, restoring the material possessions that he had stolen previously. He embraces the community that he had rejected for so long and—this is the important bit—they embrace him in return.

So, what is the point of all this? What is the real meaning of Christmas? What is the meaning of Life.

Well, I’m just a guy who probably thinks way too hard about Christmas movies, but to summarize this way-too-long essay: I believe that the meaning of Christmas and the meaning of Life are the same, and it’s ultimately about the defeat of nihilism by embracing the joy and absurdity of life.

Whatever justification you use to celebrate Christmas, the real meaning of the celebration is ultimately the same reason that you live your life.

Nothing Matters. Therefore, Everything Matters.

We as humans find joy and meaning in our communities, in our relationships with other people, and in our relationships with ourselves as well. That in the midst of a frozen and dead landscape, we can still hold each other close and give each other whatever we can, from our hearts and not just our hands, and remind each other of the joys we had in the summertime past, and the joys of the summer to come.

Christmas to me is a reminder that everything is fleeting, temporary. The summer must end and the people we love move on or pass away. But the winter will end too. There will be more joys to come, there will be a better tomorrow. We have to believe that in order to make it so.

So, we hold onto each other now. We take joy where we can right now, and we look forward to both the darkness and light that will come and pass. We look up at the bright stars shining in the dark night, and remember that everything matters.

Merry Christmas.

#christmas #the grinch #dr seuss #christmas carol #nihilsm #absurdism #joy #i really overthink these kinds of things #hope this helps

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