#doing journalism while symbiote

[val-made-a-mistake]

Currently imagining a scenario where you and Eddie have some sort of split custody arrangement for Venom, and you have some sort of NSFW dream about Eddie, and Venom sees the whole thing because of brain link or whatever, and then shares this exciting development with Eddie the next time he's bonded to Venom

venom is definitely not one to keep a secret, for sure 😭 thank you so much for your request, i hope you enjoy. :) smut-wise, it's a bit more focused on eddie than my previous fics where it was either symbiote-focused or an even split, hope that's okay. this was SO much fun to write!

warnings: brief smut, mentions of oral f receiving, mentions of "striking" the reader but it's totally a misunderstanding, loneliness, mentions of eating people/murder

word count: 3.3k

//////

It had been six days since Eddie had left for Seattle, and honestly, you hadn’t been expecting to fall into this loneliness so quickly. Venom might have been keeping you company by providing you with an endless stream of commentary in your inner conscience, and the chickens were constantly squawking and squabbling and wandering the length of the apartment as per usual, so it wasn’t like the space was totally silent, but still, Eddie’s absence was more saddening than you thought it would be. Over the course of the six days, you struggled to busy yourself. Of course you preferred Eddie having a job as to being without one, but one thing you particularly hated was how vague investigative jobs were, so as a result, you had no idea when he would come back or how long the work would take to be done.

For the time being, it looked like you were stuck here.

Before he’d left, Eddie had asked you to babysit Venom and his apartment, and now that you’d been here for an extended amount of time, you felt horribly restless.

Feeling the weight of the quiet apartment settling in, you cast a glance around the room. The hum of the refrigerator seemed to amplify in the sort-of silence, and you found yourself drawn to staring at Eddie's belongings scattered around.

Your gaze fell on a framed photograph on the shelf – Eddie with a carefree grin, arm slung around your shoulders. The memories flooded back, and a bittersweet smile touched your lips.

As if sensing your thoughts, Venom's voice rumbled in your mind.

EDDIE IS DEFINITELY MISSING OUT WITHOUT US AROUND.

The symbiote's attempt at comfort was appreciated, but it only deepened your sense of solitude.

Sighing you folded yourself into a ball on the couch, tucking your chin into your knees. The TV in front of you was off, and you had no intention to turn it on. For now, it was okay to mull in the quiet.

You mumbled into your knees, “What do you think he's up to in Seattle?" 

CATCHING BAD GUYS. KICKING BUTT. EATING SEATTLE FOOD. ZOOMING AROUND. ACTING PATHETIC WITHOUT US THERE.

“V, you and I don’t know anything about investigative journalism,” you put in gently.

Venom was, of course, offended.

I KNOW A LOT ABOUT EATING BAD GUYS!

“Yeah, but Eddie won’t let you eat bad guys in Seattle any more than he does here.”

It was at that moment that Venom popped out from your shoulder blade, miniature head scowling.

HE SHOULD!

“Wanna go get a bite to eat?” you interjected, effectively ending the conversation. “I’ll even let you drive, if you want.”

Venom grinned much too wide for his intentions to be anything but nefarious, so you quickly added, “No eating people.”

You turned fast and pointed to the pizza box sign in the kitchen. “Eddie might not be here, but that rule’s definitely still active while you’re in my body, okay?”

Venom, for lack of a better word with his gaping mouth full of super-sized fangs, pouted.

YOU ARE NO FUN!

I just don’t want to be involved in any murder, you wanted to say, but slimy, black, glittering goo was already wrapping and contorting around your middle. Venom was enveloping you, taking over.

It was a bit of an unpleasant sensation as Venom’s monstrous gooey head locked into place over where yours used to be, and rows of impressive fangs unfolded in your suddenly super-sized mouth. It felt like somebody had cracked an egg over your head and the yolk was dripping down your body. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it. You had no idea how Eddie put up with it.

For how quickly his annoyance started, Venom seemed to get over it pretty quickly. He grinned and licked his lips.

I WOULD LIKE TO GO TO MCDONALDS.

//////

The room was shrouded in the quiet stillness of the night. The dim glow of a bedside lamp cast a warm pool of light on the walls, creating a cozy haven within the four corners of Eddie’s bedroom. You were in bed. Venom, for the first time that day, was quiet.

Under the soft blanket, your eyelids were growing heavy with the weight of the day's endeavours. You still missed Eddie, a lot, so much that your nightly FaceTime call almost wasn’t enough. Seeing his face on your laptop screen was just a further reminder of how far two states away felt, and how binded you felt to him since you met him — he pulled at you without even realizing it, like you’d been sewn together with invisible thread.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be in Seattle for too much longer.

The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to synchronize with the slowing pace of your breath. As the minutes ticked away, you found yourself on the threshold of the dream world, caught between wakefulness and the gentle pull of slumber. Not even the distant murmur of passing cars was enough to distract you now.

Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the sensation of falling asleep, gently gliding down into the abyss of dreams. Eddie’s bedroom, once familiar and defined, now blurred at the edges, transforming into a surreal landscape of colours and shapes.

As you drifted further into the realms of slumber, a sensation of weightlessness enveloped you. It was as if you were floating on a sea of tranquility, carried away by the ebb and flow of your own breath. The boundaries between reality and imagination began to dissolve, and the world outside melted.

//////

Sometime between now and then, you’d ended up bent over in Eddie’s lap, on a couch that felt just like his couch, but was ambiguous enough that it could’ve been anywhere. Things were slightly blurry around the edges, surreal enough to have you breathless, but real enough that you weren’t questioning your surroundings.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed as he tilted his head, carefully examining the swelling ass on his lap. Your pussy was dripping, there was a dribble of arousal forming, but in all honesty, he was a little scared to touch you, he didn’t want to hurt you. “I don’t think I’m getting a finger in there, girl. Wow.”

“Luckily, I’m not that fragile,” you responded playfully as you arched your back for him. Eddie bit his lip as this only accentuated the curve of your ass.

“God,” he whispered as he ran a hand up your thigh: he was able to break them apart easily, and he pulled one leg over his lap, wedging you firmly between his legs.

Even though you were already soaking wet, Eddie’s fingers ran over your dripping slit for a moment, as if he were admiring the way your pussy fluttered at his touch in front of him.

God, you could just feel how wet you were, and you bit your lip, anticipating for Eddie to lean forward, and—

Y/N!!!

In an instant you’d jumped awake: you’d sprang to attention without really realizing how you’d done it, scrambling for the lamp. “What’s going on?”

Venom was protruding from your shoulderblade again, bouncing even more than normal, very clearly in extreme distress.

SWEET GIRL. WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS.

You stifled your yawn with your hand. “V, do you mean, like - like a dream?”

WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS! RECEIVING VISIONS OF EDDIE EATING YOU! THIS IS VERY SERIOUS! WE NEED TO KEEP YOU SAFE!

Your cheeks instantly warmed, and you froze, scrambling for something to say. “Oh - oh, shit, Venom - that - I’m so sorry, but I really don’t think that was what you think it was.”

HE WAS STRIKING YOU! Venom snapped.

Oh my god. He really saw all of that.

You reached for the water bottle on your nightstand. “V, you seriously don’t need to worry about this. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. Nothing bad will come from it."

Venom was, of course, still hysterical.

IT WAS A PROPHECY! THIS IS BAD!

I wouldn’t mind if it was a prophecy, you thought selfishly before you could stop yourself, but you shoved it down. “Everything’s alright, Venom. Okay? Everything's fine. Let’s just go back to bed.”

I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE FOR CARING ABOUT YOU, Y/N.

You were already sliding back under the blanket. “I’m not asking you to, V. I appreciate it.”

You hesitated.

“Just, uh, next time you’re bonded to Eddie, please don’t tell him about this, okay? It could make him - I don't know, uncomfortable. You know, I - I don’t know how he’d react to the prophecy of him supposedly hurting me, that’s all. I don’t want to worry him.”

(You were hoping wildly that he would accept, and you and Venom would never talk about this again.)

In a move you’d never seen before, Venom raised one gloopy, black tentacle towards you, and recognizing the movement, you extended your pinky towards him. Your pinky and the black goo linked together for a moment, signifying your trust.

Venom grinned, now bouncing significantly less.

I NEVER BREAK A PINKY PROMISE, SWEET GIRL.

You raised your eyebrow.

I TRY NOT TO.

You were much too tired for any of this, you simply turned over to switch off the lamp and finally return to whatever remnants of that dream was left. “Okay then. Goodnight, V.”

//////

It was satisfying to have everything fall back into the natural order once Eddie returned home from Seattle. You returned to your own apartment on the opposite side of town, but of course visited frequently, and Eddie was grateful to be back in a low-stakes environment once more, with a snarky symbiote that would terrify anyone who would try to harm him. Seattle had been thrilling, and he'd recounted the adventure to you several times, but now he was back to something familiar.

The job was done. He was covered for the time being. Freelancing was difficult, but for now, everything would be okay.

In the intervening time, Venom talked about you, a lot. Ever since he met you, he’d taken to mentioning you. But ever since you’d agreed to split custody of the symbiote, and especially since Eddie had disappeared for Seattle, he was talking about you even more.

I AM WORRIED ABOUT Y/N, he said one day.

Eddie was idly clicking through TV channels, watching everything from the news to a police drama to a basketball game zoom past, finding none of them interesting. “Why?”

I DO NOT WANT ANY BAD OMENS TO BE FOLLOWING HER. WE NEED TO KEEP HER SAFE.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, a bit confused.

Venom suddenly popped out of his shoulder, howling.

SHE - SHE HAS -

Before Venom could get any actual words out, Eddie was lifted from the couch as the symbiote rose and slammed his head into the ceiling, denting it severely and sending bits of drywall raining down from the heavens like it was a form of self-punishment.

As quickly as it started, Eddie had been dropped on the couch, red in the face and gasping for air.

Venom hardly noticed: he seemed to be in extreme distress.

I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL!

Eddie put a hand to his throat, still sweaty and gasping, forcing an inhale. “V - what?”

Venom was beside himself, now.

Y/N IS RECEIVING VISIONS! VISIONS OF YOU!

"Visions? What do you mean, visions of me?" Eddie asked, his concern deepening. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling half-strangled anymore. His mind was racing, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and worry. "What kind of visions? Is she in danger?" 

He couldn't fathom what could be causing you to have distressing dreams about him.

Right after Seattle? Right after he thought the work was finished?

I DO NOT KNOW. BUT WE MUST PROTECT HER.

Without waiting for further response, Venom oozed off Eddie's shoulder and began slithering around the room, agitated.

Eddie remained on the couch, trying to process this information. "If something's going on, then we need to talk to her, right? Figure out what's happening."

I AGREE. SHE IS PART OF US, AND WE WILL NOT LET ANY HARM BEFALL HER.

He paused, awkwardly.

BUT PLEASE LET HER KNOW I AM SORRY. I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU, EDDIE. SHE SAYS SHE DOES NOT WANT TO WORRY YOU. SHE DOES NOT SHARE THE SAME CONCERN I HAVE.

It didn’t matter: Eddie was already grabbing his phone and dialling your number, fingers tapping nervously against his screen.

After a few tense rings, you picked up.

“Hey, Eddie!”

"Hey, we need to talk," Eddie said urgently, glancing at Venom, who was now wrapping himself around the coffee table, sticky and pulsating, in deep despair.

Concern filled your voice. "Is everything okay?"

“Oh, I mean, yeah, right now it is,” he responded wildly, vaguely aiming for nonchalant. “I was just talking to V, you know, and he said something, and - I just kinda wanted to call, y’know, see if you were alright-”

“Oh, I'm fine,” you confirmed, but you still sounded confused. “I don’t have anything going on today, so I’m just spending some time to myself. What did V tell you?”

Across from Eddie, Venom moaned in despair, a mere gooey black glob of depression on his sitting room floor.

SWEET GIRL, I AM SORRY!

“He said you were getting some disturbing visions, and not gonna lie, it kinda freaked me out a bit,” Eddie said sheepishly, hoping you hadn’t heard that. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay, that’s all. I know this is random. Sorry. Just, with the nature of the last case, y’know, up in Seattle-”

It didn’t take long before he realized he was rambling again about the Seattle case, so he stopped. “Sorry.”

"No, it's okay."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a sigh.

Of course this was happening.

“Eddie, there’s been a misunderstanding,” you said. “Just, look - do you mind coming over? I’ll explain everything to you once you’re here. This might be better in person.”

Eddie was on his feet in an instant. “Sure, yeah.”

//////

Eddie rushed through the city streets, a mixture of worry and curiosity gnawing at him. Venom was bonded to him again, because he’d rather not think about the consequences of a depressed Venom lingering around the apartment while he was out, and the symbiote seemed to writhe within him with impatience. Or maybe that was just the motorbike rumbling underneath him. Whichever it was, he felt nauseous.

The symbiote had a tendency to jump to conclusions, but Eddie definitely couldn't shake the unease that settled in his gut.

Upon arriving at your apartment, Eddie knocked hastily.

To his surprise, you opened the door with a small smile.

"Hey," you greeted, ushering him inside. "Thanks for coming over."

Eddie nodded, glancing around your living room as if expecting something unusual. Venom, still on edge, clung within him like a sentient black backpack.

He didn’t want to come off as too eager, or too worried, so he just shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and hoped he looked casual despite the storm of questions brewing inside of him.

“So - what’s the deal?”

Deep inside of him, Venom was quivering with fright. As his gooey molecular form had to be closely intertwined with several of his most important organs right now, it was very hard not to notice the sensation.

You winced. “He’s just freaking out about nothing. There’s no bad omens or visions. I just had a dream, and you were in it. Simple stuff. Nothing to worry about.”

“It wasn’t a bad dream?” Eddie said, cautious.

You were definitely closer, now. “Actually, I’d say it was a pretty damn good dream.”

Eddie’s breath was caught in his throat. Out of everything that could’ve happened tonight, he definitely hadn’t been expecting…this.

He was a little confused, honestly. What was going on? The hairs on the back of his neck were raised, but he didn't feel as though he was in danger. On the contrary, he felt quite warm.

“Let me show you?” you offered.

"Okay," he bit out before he was conscious of making the decision, and you were stepping in front of him, and realizing, he closed his eyes on instinct--

The kiss that followed was absolutely dizzying.

There was something so particularly desperate about this: you were kissing, gasping against his mouth and pulling at his jacket, which made the two of you blindly scramble backwards into the apartment, messy and needy. The kiss quickly turned into a battle of control, with Eddie being the one to guide you forward, his hands on your hips. You bit his bottom lip in response, forcing him to open up and then the kiss was all about tongues, wet and sensitive.

You were on the couch when you finally broke apart, gasping.

"Baby," Eddie wheezed, his eyes darting across your face in disbelief, "I - what was that?"

"Is V with you?" you asked, instead of answering the question.

He was apprehensive now. "Yeah?"

"He needs to know I'm not in danger," you whispered, and you leaned forward to kiss him again.

It was much too chaste, and after you pulled away, Eddie was in mute astonishment for a moment.

His voice was scratchy when he spoke. "Disturbing visions, huh?"

You just smiled. "In my dream, we were on a couch, like this."

Eddie still couldn't believe this was happening. The anxiety in his gut on the way over had been completely forgotten now, blurring out of his memory, the future was an impossible thing, there was just this. This was all he had; this was all he wanted. "Were we, now?"

He didn't know what to do, but that didn't seem to matter, you were leading.

You nodded. "It was kinda hot."

"Kinda?" Eddie repeated dumbly, breathless. His voice sounded like a stranger's.

Before he could embarrass himself, Venom's voice rumbled within him, frustrated.

EDDIE, STOP BEING A PUSSY!

Wondering vaguely if this had been a trap all along, Eddie grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. Your mouths roved together, and he took the opportunity to pull you over, closer to him. The curve of your bare spine was warm from under your sweater. He kept his hand there, roaming carelessly, drifting up to the clasp of your bra.

You seemed to get what he was going for, and then suddenly you were straddling him, and with you on top of him, he could no longer ignore how interested his dick was in the proceedings.

Slightly, just slightly, you rolled your hips against his clothed crotch, and Eddie choked out a moan.

Oh, fuck. He could feel the sweat materializing and running down his back. This was better than good.

(Venom was definitely going to tease him about this later.)

"What happened next?" Eddie mumbled, looking up at you, his eyes blown black.

You smiled, then crossed your arms and peeled off your sweater. Eddie shifted his grip, holding you by the hips again, and you tossed your sweater elsewhere.

Venom was going absolutely insane from inside him: it felt like he was rumbling somewhere around his large intestine.

DO NOT MESS THIS UP, EDDIE!

Meanwhile, you were, of course, oblivious to the commentary in Eddie's mind.

"I mean," you said, and your voice wasn't smoky like it had been before. It was just curious, with a note of teasing, like this was an everyday conversation. "You ate me out."

He pressed a light kiss to your throat. "Then flip over, baby."

Inside his head, Venom seemed to be having some kind of meltdown. Maybe he had just realized what the dream was. Maybe he was jealous. Either way, he was rambling in Eddie's mind.

SWEET GIRL - SO FRAGILE - SO SWEET - SO DELICIOUS - I NEED TO TASTE -

[techramonic]

true crime infoposts, analyses, and other posts masterlist

welcome to my main blog, i'm zeph, tech, or zymon. some dude who likes analyzing. i post true crime analyses and infoposts. if you wanna check out my art, its @zeph4yrus. feel free to leave a message, send asks, or send me a fistbump. have a great day!

The links below will direct you to various educational true crime analyses and written info posts written by yours truly. This is a compilation of the various topics I have covered on this account, created in order to be guided directly to them in an easier and more accessible manner.

disclaimer: all blogs are informative and shitposts are satirical. I do not condone, glorify, nor romanticize crime. the following information is specifically written to better understand certain phenomena, in order to help others avoid repeating the same tragic events and instead, understand the causes and grave consequences of irreversible actions and seek for proper, adequate help.

as I always say, understand and do not condone.

Who's Zeph? | Get to know the writer behind this blog.

⌗ About me

⌗ Zeph core

⌗ Why do you like studying crime cases?

⌗ What got you into writing analysis?

Yapping | essays and commentaries.

⌗ "I'd be different if I was a shooter."

⌗ Understand not condone: How to not detach a criminal from their humanity while still not excusing their behavior.

⌗ Understand not condone extra.

⌗ The harm of control and the interplay of good and bad.

⌗ The disturbing insurgency of terrorism in media.

Understand and Remember | Remembering the victims.

⌗ What is Pain?: How Austin Eubanks dealth with Addiction and Columbine.

⌗ Facts about Daniel Mauser from his father's book.

TRRSM | Terrorism.

⌗ The Game of Common Interests: The Symbiotic Relationship of Terrorism and The Media.

Columbine 1999 | Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold.

⌗ What was Timothy Mcveigh like in the army?

⌗ A Comprehensive Analysis on Eric Harris, 1.

⌗ A Comprehensive Analysis on Eric Harris, 2.

⌗ A Comprehensive Analysis on Eric Harris, 3.

⌗ A Comprehensive Analysis on Eric Harris, 4.

⌗ Analysis on Dylan's Transcribed Journal Entries 2.

⌗ Culture in Morality: Analysis on Dylan's Transcribed Journal Entries, 2.

Kerch Polytechnic 2018 | Vladislav Roslyakov.

⌗ Speak, Hear, and See No Evil; Embody it: Religious Trauma and Nihilism.

⌗ (Incomplete) Autopsy Report Notes: Kerch Polytechnic shooting 2018.

⌗ Additional info regarding Vlad's ammo and gunshot wound.

⌗ Random details and info on Vladislav.

⌗ How isolation could've contributed to his motive.

⌗ Vlad and his Infatuation over Lisa Panchenko.

⌗ Commentary on the religious aspect of Vlad's ideology.

⌗ Vlad’s personal life according to his mother.

⌗ Interviews with his parents and grandmother after the shooting.

Isla Vista 2014 | Elliot Rodger.

⌗ My Twisted World: An Analysis on Elliot Rodger's Manifesto.

⌗ The Pinnacle of Self-Hatred: A Close-Reading on Elliot Rodger's Manifesto.

Orthodox Gymnasium 2021 | Vladislav Struzhenkov.

⌗ Orthodox Gymnasium bombing 2021: quick info.

Blagoveshchensk College 2019 | Daniil Zasorin.

⌗ Blagoveshchensk College Shooting: quick info.

Movie Analysis | A compilation of movies, characters, and film symbolism I have analyzed.

⌗ Descent to Death and Destruction: Zero-day Analysis.

⌗ Anger is Humanity: Andre Kriegman Analysis.

⌗ Yellow is a Collective: Analysis on John's shirt in Elephant.

[homiesondaweb]

This is my theory piece on astv Hobie's Backstory.

Despite the whole Punk lifestyle, living on a repurposed canal boat, minor rock star status, and having active warrants out for both his civilian and Spidey persona thing he's got going on. Hobie had a pretty normal childhood for a bit. 

His Pa managed the local radio stations and his Ma was a lead writer for the newspaper. Hobie found himself the baby out of 5 siblings and their 4 bedroom flat was just a bit too small for the 7 people family but it was great. 

The neighborhood was always lively with community get-togethers, music rattled the bricks and the air was always savory with smell of jerk. Hobie used to eat himself sick with coconut candy and orange cake every weekend. He liked going to 'school' which meant being crammed into Ms. Ngozi and Ms. Freedman's flat with the other neighborhood kids then being taught from books Ms. Freedman had smuggled in when she partnered with Ms. Ngozi. Reading, writing, history, debate, arithmetic, ethics, journalism, all kinds of science but Ngozi loved when Hobie would take a machine apart and remake it. 

His eldest siblings by about 12 years, twin brothers Hudson and Hector ran the 'Shop'. If you needed something fixed within their 6 block neighborhood you took it there. Cars, big appliances, medical equipment, radios, tvs, his brothers could fix it all. They'd fix it good, cheap or free and in a timely manner. (And they greatly encouraged their Little Bart brother to tinker) 

Next was is other older brother, Henry. He was only 9 years older than him. A photographer and worked under their mother getting dynamic shots for any article she posted. He introduced Hobie to a lot of artists and taught him how to observe the world around him. How to sneak in and out of it.

Then there was his only sister, Harley. She was closest in age to him, only 5 years older. She was a badass on the guitar and even slicker at the mouth. She debated anyone under a table and had a right hook to back it up. You never would have pegged her to be the one to run the community garden. Not with her self-done piercings, bleach painted jackets, head fully of bantu knots and black lipstick. But she did, she taught Hobie everything to know about growing orchids and tomatoes.

Life was good. Despite the rising police violence, cost of living, and the fumes of Oscorp rising. 11 year old Hobie didn't know it to be anything else. 

Then, he turns 12. Ma and Henry don't come home.

He's 12 and the Ngozi-Freedman homeschool is raided. He never sees them again but Harley fills her stage trunk with their books and records.

He's 12. Someone reported the shop and President Osborne new "certificate enforcement" squad torches the building. Hudson gets away but the Symbiotes bail out Hector to them and he only has one arm. 

He's 12. The government has taken over the radio station, firing Pa. The house becomes cramped with the equipment Pa had smuggled out. Hudson shows back up and he's as ghost as Hector.

He's 12 and half his friends are just faces on murals and the other half is sick from the water. The garden is sabotaged and the city fines Harley (how the fuck do you fine a 17 year old?) 

And there's a protest. Pa has taken over the radios in the city and rallies the people, he repeats Ma articles over and over informing the people about the propaganda, the contamination, the disappeared people, the injustice. He repeats them and repeated them as the twins litter the city with flyers using Henry's photos of the truth. 

And there's a protest. 

There's hundred of protests of all sizes, all over.

There's a riot. 

There's riots.

There's fire and panic and Symbiotes spill into the neighborhood like oil and-

Hobie turns 13, it's just him and Harley. 

Hobie turns 14, it's just him and Harley's guitar.

Hobie is 15, he's just some punk kid bit by a radioactive spider while trying to find shelter from a Symbiote raid. He uses this to his advantage. 

He turns 16 and instead of blowing out birthday candles he's smashing Harley's guitar through a fascist dictator head with his fellow super powered punks. (He can't think of a better wish)

He's 17 and Miguel makes a mistake in showing up to his dimension with an offer to join his 'society'. 

[justtosealmyfate1]

HP, the press and what is means to be a celebrity: meta

One of my favorite topics is the media and how that would play out in the Potters’ lives post-war. I touch upon this in the reaction to Albus and Scorpius getting together. There’s a media whirlwind after the photos of the two of them kissing are released. 

(this is about my fic, the fates, which is about when Albus and Scorpius’ relationship is found out.)

A lot of HP fics take the tone of “the media is so intrusive and ruining everyone’s life” which is fair to an extent, and also the precedent JKR set with Rita Skeeter’s character in the original books. She’s clearly a parody of British tabloid writers. Celebrity is also explored differently across fics. In the books, Harry is very famous, and a politically important figure. He’s always in the newspaper! The Minister of Magic is coming to his Christmas dinner to court him! This notoriety would only grow after he defeats Voldemort. I see Harry as (this sounds so dramatic for talking about a fictional character) an Obama, Nelson Mandela, Malala type of celebrity. A political figure, a hero, a survivor but also a mainstay in popular culture. Plus, he’s married to an attractive Quidditch player, and I’m sure they captivate the world with their Posh and Becks, Taylor and Travis type love. This is all to say that I think the Potters are megacelebrities, and Albus is a celebrity child who would reap the rewards and face the consequences of that. 

The American media landscape (while of course not without its flaws) is very different from the British media landscape, particularly the tabloids. British tabloids are crazy. It’s brutal. The Daily Mail is a disgrace to journalism. I think this culture would also bleed into Wizarding media. 

However!!...the relationship between celebrities and celebrity media is symbiotic. The “royal reporters” at the Daily Mail aren’t actually doing any journalistic work (even though they should be… like tell me what the fuck is going on with Kate Middleton), they’re being fed stories by the palace. This absolutely happens in the US too. Publicists will feed stories to friendlier publications, like People. When “a source close to Taylor Swift” is telling Entertainment Tonight exclusively that Taylor and Joe Alwyn broke up, it’s her publicist. 

What does this mean for the Potters? Well, they absolutely need a publicist, they need to be working with a PR team and they need a media strategy. It’s funny to think about that in the context of the books, but that dynamic was seen in the Order of the Phoenix. Harry’s “PR team” of Hermione and Luna got Rita Skeeter to write a story about Voldemort’s return. That’s political news, not celebrity gossip, but it shows that Harry knows how to use the media to get what he wants. While I don’t think as an adult he’d be doing the Wired Autocomplete interviews, he’d know how to navigate the press to further his agenda and protect his family’s image. 

I think the Potter children would be pretty protected from the press. Rita Skeeter wrote in her 2014 Quidditch World Cup article that the Potters are wizarding royalty, which informs my opinion of how the mechanisms of their celebrity would play out. I wrote in the fates that Harry and Ginny release curated photos of their children in exchange for not taking paparazzi photos of them, a la the royal family. While Harry is more of a statesman-like celebrity, who has a carefully crafted image and is more likely to be seen at charity events, diplomatic summits and ceremonies, Ginny is different. As a Quidditch player she’s more of a traditional celebrity. She’s canonically popular but a guarded person. She strikes me as the type of celebrity who masterfully makes you think you know her, but you actually know nothing at all. 

As for the kids, I think there would be a lot of media attention and interest in them. Would they lean into that, like North West, or shy away from it? I think they’d shy away from it, especially Albus. I think James would be more open to press attention. 

The three press stories I wrote for the fates all reflect different types of celebrity news. There’s the traditional, factual Daily Prophet article, the Daily Prophet opinion piece, and the Simmering Cauldron radio show. The Simmering Cauldron is entirely based on Wendy Williams. Don’t tell me she wouldn’t do something exactly like that! The DP article is expository, and then the opinion piece is meant to showcase the discourse surrounding their relationship. 

There’s a whole debate to be had about how celebrity children should be treated and the role of celebrities in our culture in general, and Albus and Scorpius are great vehicles to explore this.

[tinyvesselhearts]

(Egon x You) Human after all

(Thing Is: Chapter 11) Based on request for "Reader's possessed, Egon saves you, Hurt/ Comfort".

SFW but hot like my laptop right now.

From the journal alone, Egon is about to learn the following:

One: your father was a curious man. A scientist of sorts. He was fascinated by the concept of cosmic forces. Since he deemed humanity insignificant, only thing that mattered was a giant portal he was building in his barn: a door to humanity’s progress— or, as he called it— Compliance CH2. He used some restored scribbles found in the Marsh chronicles to design the gate. It took him ten years. He built it. It worked.

Two: your dad wasn’t summoning spirits per se. The creatures were alien, of all species. There’s a pattern: every time an alien (one of Yog- Sothoth’s children) was summoned, they would need a host. Like parasites, they needed to infest an organism adjusted to Earth’s conditions. Once they did, they preyed on the organism and slowly regrew it in accordance with their DNA. See, their bodies constitute loose ectoplasmic bonds which leads to another conclusion: while their hivelike minds were powerfully connected, their physical forms were weak. That’s why the PKE meter detected their presence but the proton streams didn’t work.

Three: if love means priority, your dad was shit at it.

---

Egon decides it’s for the best to stay the night at the station. There’s the issue of the mutant guest in the basement and staying within reach if somebody calls. He half expects you to change your mind and dial their number— but time flows, minutes merge into hours and the phone remains painfully quiet.

He dedicates every second to reading your father’s notes. It’s productive, informative. Fascinating, truly— but he soon realizes it doesn’t put his mind at ease. A stray thought keeps reaching to the conflict from a few hours back. He fights it. He tries to. He fails.

There’s a pressure in his chest he’s never felt before. It’s heavy, unrelenting. The cold night air must've pushed some pollen through the city. Allergy always seems to come unannounced. Thankfully, he’s aware of how his body works so— while far- fetched at best— he decides to trust this self- diagnosis and ignore the pain.

He needs to focus. He keeps reading.

~Do you honestly think I’d ever commit to someone who takes interest in ghosts?~

He's almost a hundred and seventy pages in when everything clicks. The hybrid intruder in the basement is an infected specimen, who’s grown into a semi- functioning symbiotic organism. While Egon can think of a person who would be enthralled by giving up their body for research, he doubts any reasoning would push him this far. The infected man has no ID. No records, no publicity— a recluse or a tramp. Regardless, there must be a way of helping him. To save the human and send the alien away…

~Do you honestly think I’d ever commit to someone—~

He’s on his fifth mug of tea and a third chocolate bar when he hears a loud bang downstairs.

Egon stands up. Frowns. Waits a few seconds and listens in.

There’s a muted echo of footsteps, shy and wary, then complete silence for a moment and then…

“…Hello?”

…You’re here.

Egon runs to the stairs. Hooks the rail, swings and dashes down to the garage in long strides. He looks around and there you stand, right beside the car, unsure, agitated, still. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly off— your coat’s unfastened, pajama shirt peeks from underneath— you’re shivering, trembling, cold. It’s late at night and you didn’t even bother to grab a scarf. You must be in shock or in danger.

He wastes no time— runs the distance and stops right in front of you. You look worried, breaths are shallow and they fill the air as clouds of steam.

“What’s wrong?”

Your eyes are glossy.

“…It’s here”, you whisper, shaky. “It’s with me.”

Egon already knew— he knew the moment he saw you— he just didn’t want to believe it. He should’ve stayed. He shouldn’t have left you unguarded—

The PKE meter in his hand scans you head to toe. The contraption is beeping wildly, condensed spiritual presence detected, unmistakable and progressive. Egon shakes his head— not in denial but disbelief.

“…No. Not you”, he says. “Anyone but you.”

You let out a sob— and a laugh— tilt your head backwards and struggle to hold back tears.

“I hate everything about it. Ah… Why don’t I ever listen to wise people?... I should’ve stayed away from ghosts, the stupid books, this job, the journal—”

“Do not confuse avoiding a problem with solving it. I should’ve never left you on your own. Should’ve been wiser about the dangers, I…” Egon’s brows knit, blood threatens to simmer in his veins. “Stupid. Stupid! How could I—”

He needs to throw something on the ground because, seriously— why did he think leaving you in a vulnerable position was ever a good idea— it’s all his darn fault!— Had he urged you to stay the night here, none of this would’ve happened. He didn’t want overstep but seeing you in this state now is torture. You’re exhausted to the point of crying.

“Come with me”, he says, extending an arm. “I’ll fix it. I know what to do.”

You can’t answer but a step towards him ensues. Your hands are clenched into fists, knuckles white out of fear, pain and determination— but they’re also trembling, which Egon picks up on in an instant. You’re horrified. You’re a hostage in your own body. He takes your hand. Tugs at it and you follow.

Mid- way to the basement, your mouth forms a string of words.

“Ymg' lloig ah mgn'ghft”.

Egon whips his head around. Pulls out a translator from his pocket and it immediately spurts the translation: Your mind is worthy of Him.

Ah, yes. It’s the glorious full- blown takeover stage. That was to be expected.

Egon’s too old for this. He’s seen it all. An imposter is a lowball, truly, he’s dealt with those more times than he cared to count.

“You aren’t staying for long. Don’t get comfortable.”

She is our vessel now.

“Fallacy”, Egon’s tone is casual. “She does not belong to anyone.”

And yet you wish she would.

Egon stares at the translation. His mind is blank.

The pressure in his chest again. It’s there— it’s prominent— his palms are sweaty, air feels hot and an unpleasant cold runs down his spine. How can an Eldritch horror guess… How does it—

Your love for her clouds your judgement.

Oh. Oh.

…Is that what that is?

Eyes wide, arms stiff, Egon glances at you. Your face is distant, entirely unfazed, muscles slack, eyes barely open— but there’s something about your inexplicable awareness that’s almost unsettling. It’s not you. It’s all a trick, he knows but your mouth opens again and a string of freshly translated words appear on the screen.

Good scientists should rely on their brains, not hearts. Yours is worthy of the knowledge we offer.

No, he shouldn’t listen. Staying in place won’t help any.

In a practiced movement Egon leads you by the hand to his lab. He opens it and lets you in, then helps you sit in your chair, in relative distance from any dangerous chemicals. Once sure you’re still, he proceeds to prepare the equipment.

Whatever horror is currently inhabiting your body, it’s suspiciously obedient.

Egon rummages through his desk. There’s a distilled sample of that Class 2 Free- Floating Vapor who attacked you a while back— the one he was pissed about when you got slashed— but now that you’re merged with a similarly complex creature, Egon’s thankful he’s already went through a successful separation process. Ah. Silver linings are always clear in hindsight.

While he’s assembling the set, you keep spilling strings of unintelligible gurgles. He shouldn’t be interested in checking the translations (curiosity killed the cat) but he’s sure he can take it— no temptations could affect him at this point.

Just a peek, you know. Besides, it’s all for research.

The translator shows just one sentence:

You want her. We can make a deal.

“We have strict policies concerning fraternization with paranormal creatures”, Egon replies. “I’m not interested.”

You are. She is human, is she not?

“Not at the moment, no.”

Her mind is here no longer but the body is human. She’s too weak to understand. You aren’t.

His eyes divert from the translator. Your mind is…?

No, you’re still there. It’s all reversable, it surely is— he’s just read all about the procedure, it’s an early stage, it’s not too late. He’ll save you. He can fix this. He has to.

“What is it that you do?” Egon calmly inquires, pulling a wired helmet out of a drawer. “Are you a mind- reader? An empath? How do you collect data?”

What Yog- Sothoth knows, we all know. None of us matter in the grand scheme of things.

The Collective, then. Classic.

Egon switches on the helmet and fuels it up with a luminescent liquid. It pours underneath a plastic egg- shaped shell, sinking bunches of electrodes in the glowing goo. Great: the only thing that’s left is placing the contraption on your head, pushing a few levers and a nice, clear form of the intruder should pop right out. Capturing it would be more problematic (regular traps aren’t adjusted to this level of molecular differences) but he’ll think of something. The priority here is to make sure you’re safe.

He plugs the last wires, ready to go.

You keep talking and right when he’s about to turn to you, he glimpses at the screen.

The burden is light because our sole purpose is to die. See what we see. Have a look.

Ah, crap.

Egon hesitates— and despises himself for it. There’s no way a deal with Eldritch horror could end well— it’s a bait, a classic one, a lure meant to pull new cultists in and spread the extraterrestrial tentacles over humanity— but the possibility of getting to see how they operate first- hand is almost too good to be real.

He’d be the first paranormal researcher to maintain his consciousness throughout the ordeal. He’d witness it, feel it. Describe it in detail. Provide facts. This… Ah, it could be groundbreaking. Revolutionary. His name would ascend to an almost godlike status…

Yes. He’s strong enough. He could take it. Just a peek into the cosmic knowledge and everything changes for the better. The creature is cunning— but so is he.

His mind is set. He turns around, almost prone to sealing his fate— but he looks at you.

Your body is nothing but a physical shell. A wilted form, a stranger. Your face is lax in a way reminiscent of cadavers he’d seen during his coroner years: foggy eyelids struggle to stay up— lips are tilted, brows too low and no— no, despite the body, it is not you. The features are there but they are misplaced, devoid of emotion. They don’t fit. The beauty, the light from within, all gone.

A realization serves as a wake- up call: you’re being abused. All of a sudden, the whole shtick is too revolting to fall for.

He approaches you, scrutinized.

“Puts things into perspective”, he says, easing the helmet onto your head, “but not good enough to risk losing my sanity over. I’ll have to decline.”

He will consume you regardless. Your only choice is whether to accept the knowledge we offer—

“Pleasure to meet you. We’ll end it here.”

The moment he pushes the lever, you lash out at him.

He screams in shock. A familiar hand grabs him by the throat and pushes backwards. A wire rips.

Ah, damn it, no—

Egon smashes against the desk. Your body presses against him. Fingers are clenched around his neck— and it doesn’t hurt but the grip is firm. Piercing stare pins him to place. Your hips and chest press against his, blocking his movement and Egon feels it: every inch of you, every friction. Your breath is warm. You’re so close he could kiss you by merely dipping down his head.

He tells himself that it doesn’t affect him, it’s not you, you’re not yourself, all while seeking something of use on the counter.

He feels a screwdriver with his fingers. That’s a weapon against the body but you’re not responsible for the attack— and the ghost within uses you as a living shield. No use. There must be something else…

Before he has the chance to look, all lights go dark. An unsettling noise invades his ears, horrid chanting of a thousand voices. It’s relentless, intrusive, drilling into his head. His teeth clench but it doesn’t help any: it’s the hallucinations, this is how the Collective operates. He has to act— and act fast…

A sedative. A sedative. The vial, it should be…

Through the fog of erratic stimuli, he reaches a desperate hand into his pocket. There it is: a thin, elegant glass bottle filled with poignant liquid. He curves a thumb. The lid comes off. He presses it to your nose in a swift motion.

He can’t tell which of those are real: the sudden growl, a swirl of lights or hands sliding off of his chest. It’s all mixed with a head- blowing cacophony of screams and the incessant chanting. All Egon knows is this: he keeps clenching his teeth, shoving the chemical right at your face until your tossing about abates.

Your body weakens. Limbs go lax. Knees give in, head falls sideways. Your chest slams against his— and Egon’s still trapped in the cosmic mess— but he catches you, head, back— secures your fall as you slowly ease onto rows of white tiles.

He lays you down.

The exposure to the sedative was short. It wasn’t concentrated either. He has to act fast.

The helmet needs a quick adjustment but Egon knows what he’s doing. Wires plugged, straps fastened, he pushes the abominable lever. There’s a few sparks, a smoke from somewhere and an otherworldly glow of the luminescent goo and— just like that— a massive glob of ectoplasm evaporates from your body.

Egon can’t tell what shape or size it is. It’s unlike anything he’s seen so far. It looks incomprehensible, as if it didn’t have a form: a giant mass of eyes and limbs, a pile of half- physical slime, a stack of unstable tentacles materializing and evaporating in random places. Truly, a marvel in itself. A phenomenon to investigate. It gathers above your head. Escalates. Then disperses and dissolves into thin air.

Everything’s quiet after that.

Egon waits a moment. There’s no chanting. No distortions. His senses come back to reality: shapes, lights and colors he’s familiar with. A minute passes until he’s able to map the place. There’s his desk, the chair and the helmet. Smoke and sparks surround it.

And here, right beside him: it’s you.

You poor, poor thing…

He crouches. Gently lifts your head and arms. Places you on his knee. Waits.

He unties the straps around your head. Unplugs the wires and takes the contraption off. There you are. You’re safe. Your face looks soft and relaxed— no indication of the paranormal. You’re yourself. You’re back, you are. You could wake up any moment…

He hesitates for a split second, then wipes your forehead with one gentle stroke. Skims over your face, checking for wounds. Touches your scalp to make sure you’re not bleeding. His large, warm hand slides down your locks a few times, a thumb softly touches your chin. The movement is attentive, slow and caring— coarse because his palms are rough— but he pours every ounce of his willpower to envelop you (because you’re alive and scared—need to feel safe—have to know you’re being cared for)—

“…Egon?”

His body freezes.

Your eyes are half- lidded, brows knit, fingers hooked at his scrubs— but somehow you manage to offer him a small smile.

And— God Almighty— this is what it’s been all along— he is in love, he’s been in love for a good while now and it’s too late to snap out of it. It’s bad, blatantly obvious, overwhelming. He hasn’t realized the extent of it until he heard it from your own lips, seen it on the screen— and now that he has…

“…Hi”, he sighs, retracting his hand. “You’re back. Splendid.”

There’s a small scar right below your lip. Another on your cheek. Above your brow. An uneven line along your jaw. They’re ordinary, pretty shallow— the kinds every person has so nobody pays attention— except now, he does, because he’s thinking of ways they could’ve been prevented. He wants all of them to disappear. He wants them to heal— to kiss them away, as if sheer wishes ever worked out…

“What is happening?” You whisper trembling, voice shaky.

Egon watches your face: eyes shy away to hide dilated pupils— a forced, dry swallow attempts to calm your nerves. He’s become so good at this, at reading you. The proximity affects you and his heart aches again: the way you try to ignore it but can’t— the way your body’s anxiously shivering— it’s unbelievable how every bit of you that’s usually so outspoken and confident transforms into some startled prey.

It’s intimidating how fragile you are now that he’s close. As if mere step in the wrong direction could shy you away.

He wants to take care of you. Envelop in his adoration. You’ve been hurt, taken hostage and he doesn’t have the willpower to hold back. In a spur of the moment (and hormones, bloody mess—) Egon leans forward.

Foreheads touch. Against all reason, Egon brushes your nose with his.

Your breath catches and his entire body aches to dip down. A shuddered sigh you let out lands on his lips. It carries your scent. It tastes like tea.

He desires this kiss. Aches for it. He’s been denying himself his whole life but this time everything’s different. You seem to want it too. The eyes, the breath, the shiver. He hopes he’s right about it. He hopes it’s not fear, exhaustion or stress that makes you react this way. He hopes it’s him. Ah, he hopes—

A distant echo of your words pops in his mind:

~Do you honestly think I’d ever commit to someone who takes interest in ghosts?~

…He winces.

His eyes squeeze shut. He forces himself to pull back.

“Are you hurt?”

“I don’t know”, you manage. “I’m… it’s hazy.”

“What do you need?”

Your voice is barely a whisper.

“Closure. Egon, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”

“Ah. Chamomile tea, then?”

“Egon…” Your eyes are set but a smile cracks on your lips. “I’m serious. It’s all my fault. I never meant to hurt you, or walk away, or leave you there. It was shitty of me. You deserve loyalty, respect and appreciation, and I behaved like an entitled brat. Please, forgive me.”

“But there’s nothing to forgive. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Does it mean…?”

“…you should stay here for protection.” He says. “Your bed is made. I’d say you’ve dressed for the task.”

He watches you realize you’re in crumpled pajamas, then let out a soft laugh— a stark contrast to the remnants of sadness in your eyes. If he’s great at something, it’s antics and he’ll gladly exploit this talent until you're pure sunshine again.

“Even after yesterday?” You ask.

“Especially after yesterday.”

You look like you want to get up: back straightens, your weight slides off Egon’s lap. But then, just as he thinks that’s it, you hesitantly lean forward and nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

“I should really bring my stuff here for the long run, huh?”

It’s meant as a joke but Egon thinks that yes, indeed you should. Preferably under different circumstances.

Oh, boy. What a day. What a night. What a revelation.

You’re cradled in his arms. He’s read half of the forbidden journal. The boys are coming in a few hours.

Somehow Egon’s got a feeling tomorrow is going to be even wilder.

[hazelcephalopod]

I was just talking to someone about Venom 3, what we’ve arrived at for the future (fic or wild dreams for the films) —

Bring in Spiderman during the next one. Venom runs into Spidey while looking to Eddie OR is avoiding Eddie so headed to NY -avoiding for to protect him either bc of codex or bc he thinks he’s better off without Venom. The movie is mostly from Eddie’s point of view tho, he’s not ok. His life sucks. He’s very depressed. His journalism career is going bad, he’s obsessed with Spiderman, he’s moved more into photography but some fucking kid (20-30 year old) keeps getting better shots. Anne is avoiding his calls allegedly for “an incident”. What the incident is is never addressed or multiple things are given, for the latter it is bc it was multiple incidents.

so Venom bonds with Spidey. And they’re really enjoying it actually. Both of them. Pete isn’t doing great either but clearly not as bad as Eddie -whom he is barely aware of. Once Venom finds Eddie -I’m running with the avoiding him idea next- he keeps avoiding him bc he still believes that Eddie is better off and in less danger. Eventually Pete reaches his limit and rejects Venom.

Venom and Eddie get back together and embrace it more than ever. Eddie has come to the understanding that he needs Venom as much as Venom wants him -he can still be a bit grumpy in the old married couple sorta way. I imagine elated manic reunion followed by some fighting bc a) What do you mean Anee isn’t speaking to you?! What did you do?!!; b) Well you were with Spidey this whole fucking time then!?? Followed by Eddie a) learning Spidey is the fucking photography kid, Peter Parker; b) Pete broke up with rejected Venom and actually made Venom sad and it hurt a lot :(. So then they do their Spidey fight. Which leads to the fanfic and the more likely options.

Fight with Spidey does happen. So now is a very important time to mention that the preferred casting for him is Andrew Garfield for this whole thing. Which leads to the fanfic and studio tolerated options—

fanfic: there’s a lot more yelling and explaining happening. Fight ends when Eddie and Pete start making out. That’s the rest of the story, y’all can take it from their. Two disaster bisexuals and their symbiote.

Studio tolerated: they fight brutally and stop because both are too beat up. Then later they team up to fight something else since it’s a Venom movie with Eddie as the main host character. Yeah I I’ll be honest we didn’t have as much for this one.

For both: Anne and Eddie make up. Also clearly his life starts to get better. Eddie and Venom can now fight about that.

The end?

Ooo! Here’s an idea. More Venom babies are who they fight! This sets up the next movie to be the Sleeper pregnancy and birth and then basically follows that with trying to protect Sleeper from the government and keep them alive.

[cbusch]

Yesterday, I got to see the final chapter in Tom Hardy’s Venom trilogy and for me it had its highlights and its downfalls in my opinion. Before going any further, I will be mentioning some major spoilers, so avoid if you plan on seeing it or haven’t seen it.

Eddie Brock’s development: In the past two movies, we sew Eddie slowly but surely start to get used to the symbiote Venom, however he’s always felt envious of the life he could’ve had with Anne and his successful investigative journalism show and its always reflected to his lack of development. However, we see in the flesh Eddie going out of his way to protect Venom, showing a deep caring side that was refreshing to see come from Brock. As the film progresses, he meets a hippie family on there way to see Area 51 that is closing and throughout the car ride, he spends time with the son and soothes him into believing that aliens aren’t real when he’s scared. We see the intimate moment between the two of how Brock’s father’s instincts kick in immediately, showing a vulnerable side to him.

The way the writers were able to balance out Eddie Brock’s badass side whenever he is kicking the crap out of villians/just horrible people, along with Venom mixed with his sensitive side when talking to the family shows his complexity, compared to Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man 3 take on Venom, where he is just a one-dimensional selfish reporter who wants to kill Spider-Man after he was the one who cut corners. Anyway, I love the depth that the writers and Hardy gave to Eddie Brock/Venom.

Humor: As usual, Venom’s one liners always make me laugh. The way he can execute his threatening side but also able to be a blunt figure balances out the serious side of Eddie Brock. My favorite line is when the hippie father (Martin Moon) introduces the kids, Venom says “A lifetime of therapy!” I was cracking up in my seat at the theater yesterday. The quips are quick and perfectly timed and allows the audience to really sink into the humor while also being on the run with them. Each line Venom has is distinct, adding to craziness and adventure that Eddie/Venom have to endure. Bonus: Love the bond Mrs. Chen and Venom have. From the way he protects her to the fun they have while dancing to Dancing Queen Remix, it allowed for the zaniness to feel authentic and not forced in. Not sure how they do it, but whenever Marvel characters dance (minus the She-Hulk twerk) it feels like they are genuinely having a great time and wants the audience to feel their enthusiasm.

Connection to past films: If you haven’t watched the first film, then you will be missing a lot in this film as the science lab under Area 51 where we see past symbioses from the first film. How they were able to connect the two films together without having it feel confusing was refreshing and allowing us to slowly remember the subtle details of the ship crashing onto earth and splitting up, wrapping up the details of how they’re weren’t more symbiotes inhabiting humans. Unlike most scientist in films, the scientists of Dr. Payne and Sadie treat the symbiotes with dignity and respect while so proceeding with caution when talking to Mulligan who us inhabited to the green symbiote that bonds with him from Venom: Let there be Carnage. Though I will say, I wish there was more answers to Mulligan’s disappearance and how he was feeling with a symbiote bonding with him instead of brushing it to the side to focus on the symbiote concept.

Downsides: While this was an emotional piece and did cry at the ending, the whole movie felt rushed with at times and character development, outside of Eddie/Venoms relationship felt rushed. It was almost as if the writers didn’t give certain characters time to flesh out and it’s a shame because the characters of Strickland and Dr. Payne had potential, especially with the backstory of Dr. Payne and her grief for her brother when she was struck with lightning that gave her some protection when bonding with the symbiotes while having her witness her brother’s death. There was an element of grief and revenge there that could’ve worked for them and how they each went about those themes. When Strickland’s men are killed while trying to catch Venom and Eddie, there’s a lot of grief he goes through as a soldier. When he learns and tells Payne, the lack of empathy that Payne shows towards him, it sends him over the edge and is on a revenge spree. The level of vulnerability and lack of control he has was something that stood out to me. He’s loyal towards those he’s worked with and would do anything to make sure they get to the other side and when he lost his comrades, he didn’t know how to cope, so he was bloodthirsty on revenge. I would’ve loved to see this development grow overtime in the film, however the way he switches sides when he is saved by a symbiote, it felt rushed and unrealistic towards the character they built him up to be.

Climax: Back to my last highlight, the climax. We got to see Venom and Eddie fight for the last time. The connection they have in unpalatable and having the symbiotes freed in order to fight the creature known as Xenophage, it was badass in my opinion and wish we got to see more of that fighting and teamwork in past scenes vs. just in the climax. However, the emotional scene between Venom, when he realizes he’s going to have to sacrifice himself in order to save everyone is heartbreaking, especially since Eddie was willing to die with him, showing him the heroic part and lack of hope he had for himself, only for Venom to spare him. I teared up as he said “Goodbye for now” showing him that while he’s gone physically, he’ll never leave him and the memories they shared weren’t in vain. It’s devastating to say the least so please take care of yourself if you love Venom!

Ending: Also made me choked up as they went to New York City and while walking, Eddie starts to think about how Venom changed his life for the past year and the newfound confidence he gave him. The final scene of him staring at the Statue of Liberty while remembering Venom is heartwarming as we see the legacy of Venom live on.

Post Credit scenes: They weren’t the best in my opinion. Although, the delivery of “he’s coming for us” as the camera pans up to Knull, was chilling and haunting. You will need to do research, the presence and the delivery made the suspense worth it in the end. However, you will need to do research about who Knull is since he isn’t mentioned much in the film. However, I would leave after that mid-credit scene in my opinion. The post-credit scene doesn’t give us a lot of context as to what will happen to future of the MCU or Venom in general. Wait, Venom might come back however it isn’t given a lot of context and wish there was more to it.

Overall, I had a great experience watching this film!

Bonus: if you go see this film and get popcorn, make sure to get this bucket as it seemed appropriate and it’s a cute souvenir.

[tweedledee-and-tweedledumb]

Idly doing crafts and thinking about how Freddie Lounds unknowingly made a symbiotic deal with the devil.

There's so many fics out there where Hannibal or Will (or both of them) kill Freddie and that's all fine and dandy and she totally deserves it, but I love remembering that Freddie Lounds out-lives everyone involved.

Despite being in MANY precarious situations, Freddie not only manages to avoid death or the promise of death at a later time, but she fulfills her chosen purpose and reports on a lot of fucked up stories. She reports on stories that end up involving her personally, and many that she forces her way into. She gets kidnapped, gets assaulted, gets threatened, but no matter how many tricky situations as she gets herself into, Freddie Lounds manages to walk away both alive and more physically (and arguably mentally) unscathed than any other character in the show.

In truth though, the two are so symbiotic that it's wild and borderline laughable to me that anyone thinks she can actually be killed.

Freddie Lounds, as a character, wants nothing more than to dig up good stories. To slap them down and offer up glimpses of 'the truth' as sensationalist shock value that really does reveal a number of unseen (or unrecognized) truths. It's her entire purpose and that alone allows her safe passage through the entirety of the narrative, despite the fact that Freddie canonically dies in the source material.

Her commitment to journalism, and her unflinching desire to be at the heart of it all, is an unspoken Soul Selling type Wish that gets granted by Hannibal's greed and his desire to have his art recognized.

Because Freddie is his voice.

The controversial, prone to libel, journalist with her grubby fingers forcibly crammed into every pie out there somehow captures his work. In all its horrific, macabre glory.

Is she frustrating, dramatic, and always reporting at the wrong time? Yes. But she's also Hannibal's barker. The one who reminds everyone that he's out there. The one that forces everyone that sees her site to sit back and wonder, 'Who the fuck is this guy? This fucked up artistic genius that Does All This Crazy Shit while evading detection of any kind.'

Because, realistically, in this universe we don't see any news coverage of the Chesapeake Ripper's crimes outside of Tattlecrime. Obviously people know he's still uncaught, but you'd think that if someone was out there turning people into into cherry blossom trees and leaving them in parking lots, it would've be a LOT bigger news. Was that a creative choice? Was it because other news outlets were irrelevant to the show? Or because the FBI was effectively covering up the spread of the details of those crimes? We can't and won't know, but what we do know is that Freddie manages to not only tell the world about every single one of the Ripper's tableaus, but that she plasters multiple photos of the crime scenes onto her website with alarming regularity.

And, because of that, Hannibal will never let her go.

She's allowed a level of audacious leeway that is incredible considering her blatant and continuous rudeness. Toward Hannibal certainly, but toward Will and Abigale as well.

But, in this particular case, Hannibal's narcissism allows her near borderline immunity from the consequences that would normally befall anyone that acts the way she does in Hannibal Lecter's presence.

His distaste for her, no matter how rude, how bothersome, how inconvenient, is ignored in favor of allowing her to live so that the world may continue to be shocked by the Ripper's vision and his messages. His art.

And, with that immunity, Freddie commits to her life long dream, and the unknowing gift she's been given, and jumps recklessly into danger after danger as she chases after sensationalist stories. She's in a position to be killed SO many times but the axe never seems to meet her neck. Not from Gideon, or Hannibal, or Will, or even Jack and all his threats of legal action, because Freddie has become metaphorically untouchable.

She's outside of the consequences of the narrative, all because she inadvertently became an essential part of Hannibal's ability to be Seen and to communicate.

So yeah, I understand the desire to kill her off in a Murder Husbands bonding moment, but I also think it's comical that anyone thinks that she's capable of being killed when she's safe from both The Biggest Bad in the show as well as The Narrative.

[witchkore]

Name: Kore Matsui Occupation: Jeweler Age: 40 Sexuality: Pansexual / Polyamorous Species: Witch Clan/Pack/Coven: Circle of the Augury Hometown: San Francisco, California Relationship Status: Single Personality Traits: Creative, neurotic, abrasive, practical, generous

Biography (tw: mentions of Japanese internment, murder, mutilation, slight descriptions of gore)

Kore never felt like they knew enough of their family history, and have always been desperate to learn more. As a child, they didn't understand why their grandparents avoided speaking Japanese even in their own home, why their parents hadn't even learned the language. Even as she gets older and learns about the violence that her grandparents faced at the hands of the federal government, it spurs her to chase after what was lost.

The first grimoire she comes across is after her grandmother dies, leaving behind an old house and an attic full of dusty belongings. Her single mother doesn't have the stomach to go through it all and asks Kore to step up, at the tender age of 15. She does what she can to spare her mother further heartbreak and finds her grandmother's journals. They're filled with magical theory and personal anecdotes, painting a picture of a woman Kore had never been able to meet. She finds her old supplies, the tools she had painstakingly saved through the raids and the internment, kept secret even from the husband she had met inside, and the children she raised to be upstanding citizens.

They move to Port Leiry in the aftermath, the city where her grandmother had grown up before she and anyone who looked like her were rounded up and carted away. It's the first time in her life that Kore feels like she can actually put down roots. While many seem desperate to escape to confines of the city, she finds herself in it. What Kore didn't realize however, was that they were only scratching the very surface of it all.

They are just shy of their nineteenth birthday when they meet their first vampire, someone who can smell the witch in them before they even had a name for these secrets they were uncovering. The vampire takes advantage of her youth and naivete, dangling promises of power and knowledge in front of her. She swears now that compulsion influenced her, regardless of whether or not anyone believes her. Kore quickly learns to barter her blood for more and more and the vampire teaches her of dark, forbidden magic that is rooted in death. They describe the balance of magic, how many want to pretend that death has no place in something so pure, but explain that all power is derived from the cycle of life and death. They teach her haruspicy, the inspection of the entrails of a ritual sacrifice to discern the intent of the gods.

Together they make a ruthlessly efficient team. Each kill is more than just prey for the vampire, but a divine message. She is convinced of the necessity of their sacrifices, as tragic as they might be, for the greater good. For years, Kore finds her balance in this mutually symbiotic relationship. The vampire spills blood, and she reads the visions in the remnants of their victims' flesh. She tells herself there is no other way because she's given no reason to question their gospel.

Then one day, her companion disappears. She doesn't even know if they are dead or alive, whether they've fled for good reason or simply abandoned Kore, but Port Leiry feels empty without them. She had spent years under their thrall, willingly so, yet it all feels for naught. She tries to continue their work on her own, but she is not ruthless enough. Spilling blood, while necessary, is something she cannot stomach to do herself and she learns that the hard way. All this before turning twenty-five.

For a while, she is aimless, searching for something to pour her devotion into. Joining the Circle of the Augury was an attempt to find that connection again, but she has little interest in tea leaves and tarot decks. Throwing bones at least connects her to a life, but Kore finds that bringing up references of haruspicy are almost as forbidden as conversations on necromancy. She sees the prejudices and misconceptions that the vampire warned her about and never fully seems to find her footing within the coven. Occasionally she takes advantage of what nature provides. Roadkill, or the prey of a wolfpack. It's an imperfect method; their corpses are usually cold and graying by the time she reaches them, and their organs barely suitable for what Kore needs, but she continues to try all the same.

To pay the bills, Kore goes into trades, working with wood, metal, gemstones, and other materials to create things from furniture to garments, but her specialty eventually becomes jewelry. She starts out as an apprentice to an old goldsmith/watchmaker, a man with no heirs who was just happy that someone was interested in learning a dying trade. Eventually, Kore buys the man out when she's learned all she can from him. It's mostly honest work that keeps the lights on, but Kore has never fully stopped searching for a way to be able to practice their preferred style of magic once more.

Wanted Plots / Connections

The Devotion (Orphia Sinclair) - The vampire who introduced Kore to the darker sides of magic and the supernatural world. She would've been a blank slate when they met, young and ambitious and eager to please in a way that eventually bordered on religiosity. Likely would have had some kind of physical relationship at the time, but Kore hasn't seen them since they were 24.

The Witness (Tressa Shaw) - Kore personally doesn't have the stomach to kill people but they were an accomplice and ally in plenty of murders. One such sacrifice included a man, but what set him apart was his daughter, very much a child. They spared her life, compelling her never to speak of what transpired that night.

Clients - Kore is a skilled artisan who runs a small shop that specializes in jewelry and watch repair, and she often takes on custom jobs for well-paying clients. These can be humans who are looking to fix up old heirlooms, or supernatural creatures who need a magical item to look nice. She has a reputation for not asking any more questions than she needs to, and having impeccable work product.

Fellow Witches - Kore can surmise that witches tend to be split on the topic of haruspicy and the general use of sacrifices in their magic. She tends to not bring it up unless she's aware that the other person has the appetite to discuss heavy topics with actual nuance. To those limited few, they are privy to a side of Kore that most others do not see. To the uninitiated, Kore is an awkward lonely witch who does not often participate in coven life.

FWBs, one night stands, short flings, exes - Kore is pansexual and polyamorous. She truly does not care what gender or species anyone is as long as they've got a brain and/or know how to use their mouth. She is not one for committed relationships but is open about the fact that she has more than one partner, and is fine with her partners doing the same.

TBA

[corvidamned]

CHARACTER INFO SHEET

name: kira alexandria drake name meaning: "dark-haired" (kira), "defender of the people / mankind" (alexandria) "dragon" (drake) alias/es: nevermore, the raven, the sphinx, the dragon, kiki, alex, mallard, murdock ethnicity: romanian-english one picture you like best of your chara:

three h/cs you've never told anyone: (ive probably said these already)

kira's first victims were three school bullies she maliciously planned on killing prior to becoming a vampire. they were three girls her same age that tormented her for years prior. she was encouraged by her father before he passed to pick someone who she truly hated and channel all that rage and hunger that comes with the transformation into killing someone she thought deserved to die in order to curb the inherent need to target one's family or loved ones. in hindsight, they weren't evil. they were just bullies that made her life a living hell because they had no sense of control in their constantly changing homelife. however, 13-year-old kira could not distinguish that. she saw three mean girls who pretended they liked her only to neg her, insult all aspects of her identity, attempted to use her to do their homework, promised to show her all the pop culture and conventional beauty techniques she was missing out on, and ghosted her... and she thought that was enough to inflict creative violence. she took one's eyes, another their jaw, and the last one, their heart.

while kira's dad is essentially dracula, our dracula is a composite of many different dracula stories. the most central of which are: nbc's dracula (the inventor), young dracula (the father), dracula untold (the war hero), van helsing (god's nemesis), bram stoker's dracula (the plague and the forbidden love), and castlevania lords of shadow (the devil's nemesis). he is all these things, and very tired. he's also a slut, and I will accept that kira has distant siblings by other dracula brides or cousins from other sides of the family. its just her all alone in her side of the world since in many verses cillian is stuck in a different dimension or tragically dead.

Kira's not against the idea of something like a symbiote or a parasite living in her body and sapping some of her strength in exchange for giving her abilities. It's when there's the possibility that it'll change her blood chemistry permanently or take over her mind and transform her into something that's no longer her anymore but one with something else and doomed to serve something else that she's completely put off. It's not worth the power or the community and she would rather walk alone as an anomaly and turn her own fledglings than deal with something ancient with backwards values.

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

painting and drawing, usually accompanied by singing or humming

swordfighting or sparring to keep sharp

journaling for to-do lists and keeping logs for memory

eight people your character likes / loves:

Edward Nigma

Rick Flagg

Vienna Roberts

Jack Rabbit

Bertha

Albert Wesker

Vergil Sparda

Wally West

two things your character regrets:

not letting anyone know she's a vampire out of survival and fear of being dissected by umbrella

only telling very few people about the details of her past because it's awful bloody and rife with monsters and not their burden to bear

two phobias / fears your character has:

losing a loved one, losing control, killing a loved one accidentally, ghosts

deep water such as lakes and oceans

Tagged by: @umbrellamedic @mxlevolence Tagging: @fcllederage @ask-the-ghostface @luposcainus @who-is-muses @eclipsecrowned @brucieboy297 @celerem @manufactoredxbyxdesign and you!

[mewtagen-mau]

Entry 10

I had…a very unusual dream last night. No. That’s not quite right. I mean, it is. It was very much a dream. But I think in a way it was also real. The other three shared this unusual dream, and Shelalu also noted we all seemed restless in the night. Neither Shelalu nor Nualia had the dream.

In the dream, I was pulled from my sleeping arrangements by the web of a giant spider, which dragged me up into the sky. Instead of a web to ensnare me at the top, I found myself stepping out into somewhere bright and loud and impossible to wrap my head around. Everything was gold or had flashing lights. There were other people at what appeared to be various gambling games, but none seemed to draw my eye at the time—except for a large man made of stone, an aptly named Stone Giant. However, whatever business I had in this dream, it was not with him.

I arrived at this gambling hall with the other three, and although we went our separate ways to look around this unusual place, we all found ourselves meeting again at a large table, set up for playing cards. There was a man there. I couldn’t seem to bring myself to meet his eyes, but I saw his hands. There were golden hooked rings on them. I feel like I’d seen those rings somewhere before—somewhere recently—but I’ve been unable to determine where I’d seen them. I certainly didn’t mention them in my journal. I checked.

The man wanted to play cards with us, to get to know us. He said something about the way a person gambles showing so much about them. He dealt us each a Poker hand. I had a straight flush, so I felt quite confident, and chose to stay in. Krysa and Nanel did the same.

When we revealed our hands, Krysa also had a flush, while Nanel had three of a kind. The man said something to Nanel about how he can’t win if his partner is cheating. Then he produced another hand of cards which was apparently meant to represent Donyoku’s hand. It was all jokers.

Finally, the man revealed his own hand. A royal flush.

The man told us that we would meet like this again, twice more. Then the strange dreamscape faded away, and I awoke the next morning.

While we were preparing to return to the ruins, Nanel said he wanted to come clean about something. He explained that he hadn’t been entirely straightforward with us about what Donyoku is. Nanel had originally claimed Donyoku was his god. However now he revealed the truth—Donyoku was a parasitic plant, using Nanel as his host. Nanel showed us the vines growing through his flesh, and even manifested a second head made entirely of vines for Donyoku to speak to us through directly.

Donyoku claimed he only had Nanel’s best interests at heart. That he was here to protect him. That he cared for him. That this relationship was symbiotic, not parasitic.

I am…not sure I believe him. I was already feeling wary of him when I thought he was some manifestation of a celestial being. Knowing he is a parasite, protecting Nanel out of necessity for his own existence, does not help me feel generous towards him. Nanel trusts him wholeheartedly, however. I asked some questions to clarify my understanding of their relationship and what Donyoku is, and I felt like Donyoku was dripping with manipulation the entire time. But Nanel is too close to notice—quite literally, unfortunately.

I was not the only one who felt this way. Krysa was clearly guarded and slightly aggressive towards the plant creature, while Tabot was outright hostile. Although we all eventually agreed to continue working together even knowing this new information, it was clear that there was tension under the surface. But for now, Donyoku had promised he was trying to do better about not hurting his own allies, and I don’t think any of us wanted to alienate Nanel by pushing the argument any farther.

Nanel will have to see for himself that Donyoku doesn’t have his best interests at heart. Until then, there is no chance he will be convinced. Some things people just have to realize on their own, as painful as it is to see this and feel like he needs to be separated from this creature for his own good (and likely his own health), and wanting to help push him in the right direction. That would end poorly, I am certain.

So, once all our morning preparations were complete, we made our way back to the Thessalonian ruins. It was somehow more harrowing than Nualia, a demonic bugbear, and a greater bargheist combined.

What awaited us in the vault were Shadows. Horrible undead wraiths that could draw out your very lifeforce with but a touch.

They appeared all around the room—still close enough together for Krysa to light them up, but too far for me to do the same with my explosives. My sword was ineffective against them, as well, as it passed right through them doing minimal actual damage.

Tabot, on the other hand, proved exceptionally adept in this fight. He was able to channel positive energy to burn away the negative energy holding the spirits together, and by channeling his holy power into his blade he made it able to cut through spirits as a sword normally cuts through flesh.

We found a secret passage after the shadows were cleared away. It led even further down below the ruins. To a small underground bay. There was an enormous golden helmet in the middle of the water, looking for all the world like some giant warrior had fallen in battle and decayed to nothing but dust, leaving only their helm to mark where they had passed.

More likely, it was just decorative.

Far more intriguing was the wall art. It was a fresco of a glittering golden city nestled amongst mountains. Given the context of the rest of the ruins, I theorized that this was a depiction of the legendary city of Xin’Shalast, which is said to have been a Thassalonian city made entirely of gold. No one has ever found evidence of such a city. No ruins like these. But Varisia is a big place. Maybe it is out there somewhere. It would certainly be a historical marvel.

While I was admiring the wall art, the giant helmet sprang to life. Well, more precisely, the creature beneath it sprang from hiding. The giant golden helmet was being used as a shell for an equally giant crab.

We dispatched the crab, and the others began discussing how we could get the helmet out, so we could sell it. I couldn’t deny that so much gold would be worth a small fortune. But I dismissed myself from the conversation when the others decided the best course of action would be to swim beneath it, using the helmet to trap a bubble of air above them so they could breath as they maneuvered it in the water. I am less than fond of swimming, especially in an ocean we’ve already seen houses bunyips, giant crabs, and all manner of nasty aquatic beasts. So while the others swam their find out, I took the long way back, up the stairs and back through the ruins.

Once we reconvened with Shelalu and Nualia, we made our preparations to head back to Sandpoint. And figured out our plan for what to do about secreting Nualia into town.

The sun was setting as we made it to the outskirts of town. We had two ideas of where to leave Nualia—Nanel’s place or The Rusty Dragon. Nanel’s home would be easier, but he talked about it like it was just a hole in the ground somewhere rather than a real house.

And to be perfectly honest, when we took her there initially, that description is not entirely far off. It was small, and kind of damp and musty. We decided not to leave Nualia there for long, just for long enough for us to talk to Ameiko and get her approval to hide Nualia there.

Seeing as Nualia was a big part of what got both her father and brother killed…I was admittedly worried about how she would take the request.

Still, we returned to the Rusty Dragon to speak with her. She was skeptical at first, of course. But we explained everything, including that she’d been manipulated by the literal goddess of monsters, and when she chose to act in a way antithetical to Lamashtu, she lost her arm as the price. So she was very clearly in a state where she’s open to working on doing better, and she is very much not in the state to kill anyone or lead another goblin raid, or what-have-you.

Ameiko agreed, on the condition that if Nualia did anything to harm anyone, she would kill the woman herself. We agreed that those were acceptable terms—Ameiko isn’t the sort of person to abuse it to take revenge on Nualia. She’ll probably just have her scrub dishes and wait tables as her early penance. Some regular work would probably do her good.

The other thing Ameiko asked of us was that we provide some kind of distraction so no one would see her enter the tavern. We brainstormed, and Tabot floated the idea of doing a live performance. Specifically, Tabot wanted to do a stand up comedy act.

Tabot does not know the first thing about stand up comedy. This was a recipe for disaster. Which actually meant it was the perfect distraction. We all agreed. Nanel said he would stay behind and keep an eye on things incase anything went wrong, while Krysa and I would return to Nanel’s home and retrieve Nualia. I also got her a inconspicuous travelling cloak, so that she could throw a hood up and obscure her face a bit. It had been years since she was last in Sandpoint, but her features are rather…conspicuous.

It's interesting, I’d never met an aasimar besides Morri. What is interesting is how their features have a sort of similarity but they also look wholly different. Nualia is beautiful, with long white hair, but completely white eyes that seem to have a bit of a glow to them. Morri is Morri. You couldn’t mistake her for human, with her almost unnaturally perfect face and golden eyes that seem like they hold the sun. I suppose it’s always struck me as a bit novel, how they look so incredibly human but also so incredibly not. I am obviously not human, being a catfolk, there is virtually no overlap. Morri and Nualia, though. The differences are so slight that I’m surprised I would even see them, and yet they are somehow both subtle and obvious.

I am so glad that Morri never went through the things Nualia did. I…cannot imagine. All that pressure on a little girl. The way she was othered. And then all that venom at the sort of mistake so many other teens make. She wasn’t allowed to make mistakes, to have bad judgement, or to be in any way a regular child or teen. People saw her as a symbol instead of as a person. And symbols don’t have feelings, don’t get angry or sad, don’t fight back.

It is no wonder things turned out the way they did.

Anyways…where was I? My mind wandered a bit. Right. Getting Nualia into the Rusty Dragon.

So Krysa and I went and retrieved Nualia, and snuck her in through the back entrance. I didn’t get the pleasure of seeing Tabot’s performance, but I could hear the crowd heckling him as we took Nualia upstairs.

And then a bar fight broke out.

It would seem Tabot’s act was so bad it drove the tipsy patrons to violence. Not against him, thank goodness. But it sounded like a good few people were thrown out of the Rusty Dragon.

I am now safely in my own room of the inn. I plan on sleeping soon. But…I am hesitant. What was that dream last night, really? Nualia had said a stone man had sent her instructions in her dreams. Could the stone giant I saw in that gambling hall be the one who’d ordered my house burnt down? What will happen if we continue indulging this mysterious card dealer? He seems to be expecting us to meet again, which I assume means more strange dreams. I wonder if I should just throw the amulet with that Thassalonian rune into the ocean.

But it is my only lead. I can’t discard it until I understand where these dreams are coming from, and who is it that has it out for me.

[brehaaorgana]

The thing is, websites being slowly destroyed because of capitalist greed is bad in general for many reasons, but I would like to point out that one of those reasons is that not every social website is built to handle the same kinds of engagement in the same ways, and this destroys spaces that can't simply be ported elsewhere because they are symbiotic to their origins.

You destroy specific kinds of communities and communication styles that rely on the uniqueness of individual platforms. You can't move that to somewhere else with a different structure without fundamentally changing something.

This has always been true, but I feel like not everyone is fully...aware or familiar with how this happens. It's not even entirely a Gen Z thing either - there are plenty of Millennials/Xers and older generations who did not have a ton of internet access in the early-mid 2000's and so don't necessarily have familiarity with what vanished. Internet access has only recently been "expected," for more people across the class spectrum.

As a Millennial(TM) who has been connected to the internet basically since infancy (my dad did IT/software engineer management stuff and would literally sit me on his lap while he was on the computer as a baby), I am keenly aware of a) the fact that there are entire internet social communities which I didn't engage with but are now gone and b) that there are ones I did engage in and are lost or no longer really the same because of capitalism.

Like...forums are just not as popular anymore as they used to be. They still exist, but it's harder to find them and they usually see way less activity than other platforms. And we lose so much knowledge/advice/engagement without them. Things like: I turned around one day and found a digital art forum I used to lurk on was totally gone, along with all the inspiration, tutorials, and tips. I remember one thread was this one guy wanting to learn to draw, and it was basically just his progress journal of learning to draw. It went over the course of YEARS of progress from like, stick figures to beautifully rendered art. Shit inspired me so much, and I think it just...vanished?

But then there's things like, entire social norms, jokes, and kinds of engagement that also vanishes or becomes a graveyard. Forums usually have karma systems (which reddit apes, sort of) and that could tell you a lot about an account lol.

Look at the slow death of livejournal! Dreamwidth sort of...tried to fill the gap but there's so many platform specific expectations and experiences that Livejournal had:

Icons that you change based on: interests, content or intent of your post/comment, that you can create and have others use and which change often.

Related: icons and graphics communities.

CAPSLOCK COMMUNITIES WHERE YOU DON'T LAPSLOCK EVER!! EVERYONE TALKS LIKE THIS

Locked communities (especially age based!) Or dedicated communities with moderation and agreed upon rules unique to that comm. Tumblr literally can't recreate that. It doesn't port to how Tumblr specifically works.

Comms like ONTD, stupid_free, or comedy shit like weepingcock, - or even like, scanlations comms. Shit that just doesn't translate to tumblr's style, especially without optional anonymous engagement and nested conversations. There's no such thing as FFAF on Tumblr. It doesn't work. You don't break the internet here the same way ONTD did when Michael Jackson died.

Dedicated fandom/ship comms. As someone who was quite literally harassed on Tumblr for years because I didn't like a specific non-canon ship between a literal teenaged child and an adult and talked about it without tagging it (and even censored it when just words suddenly showed in tags!) I miss dedicated fandom comms so much. Because I had way more control over who engaged with me on my personal LJ and NEVER would've bothered people on a comm about a ship I hated because it's shitty behavior and because people who do that got banned! Shared communities with moderation and better blocking settings were benefits I didn't have on Tumblr.

Just...it doesn't translate to Tumblr and now it's just a tiny space on DW and the zombie of LJ.

Similarly I don't think AITA translates very well to Tumblr because Tumblr doesn't:

Have nested comments/comment threads that can be collected all on one central page

Have easy to make throwaway accounts

Allow for anon responses to posts directly (it's only asks! They can't reblog anonymously!)

Have an upvote system

Have a "sort by most popular" or "sort by oldest."

Have autoretention/bot capture of the original submission.

A way to click through to someone's comments in other communities, or see what their responses to the thread as the op easily.

A collection of moderators and standardized community rules and community ability to report trolling/spam/fiction/shit posts.

Call me a killjoy but AITA won't fully translate to Tumblr for the same reason why ONTD isn't translated to Tumblr, and even a similar concept to ONTD looks totally different on reddit (see: deuxmoi). It will look different, it won't have the same community or feel simply because the platform itself is different enough that it inherently changes how we engage, what that engagement looks like, and what can even feasibly be done.

When a website dies, the unique communities and communication styles of that platform also start to die.

[cherokeegal1975]

Red Dragons, WIP.

This is a digital copy I'm making of an older work from the 1980s or 1990s. I can't remember exactly when I did this one. Time hasn't been kind to it. I'm making little effort to improve on anything. I am doing this partly as pure preservation of a sort and to make content for my future books I'm planning. One for sale and one version not for sale. The not for sale version is anything goes, while the for-sale version will be more carefully planned out. Only works that I feel are public worthy will go into the for-sale book. On the plus side, I can just publish the book intended for sale without needing to spend any money. If I get enough sales, I could buy my personal keepsake book from Blurb to add to my library. I won't count on that. My first two art journals barely sold at all. I get it. Lack of advertising and I could have done better with them. I've learned from my mistakes and I will do better next time. Honestly the only reason I'm going to bother with the for-sale version of my art journal is because my paternal grandmother offered to buy it.

As far as my personal book, it won't be cheap. If I mess it up, I might have to do more than one attempt...or accept defeat. The anything goes part will be about things I won't normally show online anymore, or just crap sketches I did a while back. Nothing too terrible really, but I figure if I don't want someone looking over my shoulder and seeing what I'm drawing or have drawn, then I shouldn't be posting it online, which is a public space. So, G-Rated for the public only. The only exception to this rule is my novel Unexpected Cargo. Hardly anyone pays attention to it anyway. The same for my other novel Eden Symbiotic.

[yallemagne]

Watch Me Rewrite Spider-Man 3 Because I have Writer's Block

Me: "We don't need to rewrite Spider-Man 3, we don't need to rewrite Spider-Man 3, we don't need to---"

Brain: "But guess what we're doing."

If you think that the movie is perfectly fine the way it is... I mean, you're definitively wrong, but go off. Just don't read this; it won't serve you.

Okay so, this is fucking because I was just thinking. Why does Venom (Eddie Brock) kidnap Mary Jane? How does he know her? Wouldn't it make more sense that he would kidnap Gwen Stacy?

I mean, we know why he kidnaps Mary Jane. It's because she's the love interest. But how would he know that? He was not that familiar with Peter. As far as the movie shows us, Eddie shouldn't even know who MJ is.

Let's look at why MJ was targetted in the previous films:

Spider-Man

Green Goblin... just wanted to fuck around and kill his son's girlfriend. I dunno, it seemed like the thing to do. Perhaps there was some residual bitterness over Harry not speaking about her, maybe it truly was anger that she wasn't wearing a black dress, who is to say?

Some creepy guys target her because she's a woman walking alone in the evening. Unfortunately, that is what creepy guys do.

Harry confides in his father about MJ cheating with Peter, and Norman decides to kill two birds with one stone.

Spider-Man 2

Harry tells Doc Ock to retrieve Spiderman for him and that Peter should know Spiderman's whereabouts. Peter was out with MJ, and Doc Ock decides to take a hostage.

Spider-Man 3

Ehh?? Love interest. Of both the boyos, I guess. Eh.

Because lissen, it would make more sense for Eddie Brock to target Gwen Stacy. Eddie tells Captain Stacy that he's dating his daughter, but it's revealed by Gwen that it was just a single coffee date. As thanks for saving her, Gwen gives Spiderman the key to the city and a kiss. A very public kiss. Later on, Eddie sees Peter taking Gwen out after he just got him fired from his new job. Same night, in the church, while Eddie is praying for Peter Parker to die, he finds out that Peter is Spiderman, gets the symbiote, and then decides to team up with Sandman and kill him himself. He picks MJ because Peter "stole his girlfriend" and now he's gonna steal Peter's but... uh???

How could he possibly know Peter's history with MJ? Sure, she's gotten kidnapped a few times, but she hasn't been kidnapped in a while, and there's more reason for Eddie to believe that Gwen would make a good hostage right now. And it would also be retaliation against her for rejecting him.

So, why MJ? She's the movie's love interest, and Gwen is supposed to be a red herring. Maybe if we saw Eddie calculating? Like doing some research? He's into journalism, right? Have him think of targeting Gwen but looking into it and finding out that Peter is into MJ??

Also, funny thing: Peter was standing there watching the news, and he only jumps into action after hearing MJ was kidnapped?? I know he's just standing there until the audience gets all the vital info, but wouldn't it make more sense for a hero to want to rescue... any hostage? No matter if he wants to fuck her or not?? If it had been Gwen, are we to assume he'd be like "she's just a girl in my class" and go home????

Of course, it being MJ gives Harry a reason to join in, but... eh. We don't need it. Lissen, no matter how many times Harry says he loves MJ, he only ever dated her to get back at Peter. The whole time he's dating her, he's just trying to impress his dad, and he's failing to connect with her on an emotional level. I can buy him caring for her as a friend, or even just, you know, a person he was previously involved with. But also she was a shitty friend. She tried to rebound with him after getting mad at Peter and then left instead of talking it out, making him think he was in the wrong before his memories kicked back in.

Oh, by the way, the memory loss thing was just pointless. It served no purpose. It was nice to see Harry happy for a time... but at the cost of a coherent plot? Harry discovers that Peter killed his dad -> decides to kill Peter -> memory loss -> Harry discovers that Peter killed his dad -> decides to hurt Peter -> gets beat up -> dies. Just cut out the middle man!! Remove the memory loss!!

Okay, finally for the rewrite:

I'm not gonna lay out everything that happens because the whole plotline of Peter's struggle with forgiving his uncle's killer and the whole symbiote warping his personality is gonna remain completely unchanged. That was good.

Move Harry's discovery of his father's Goblin tech to later in the movie. Most stuff can stay the same. We go from Peter going home with Aunt May's engagement ring straight to Flint Marko becoming Sandman.

No major changes until later, when MJ ditches dinner with Peter and decides to rebound with Harry. Harry's still got his memories, so he welcomes MJ's advances knowing it will hurt Peter. And yet... still... he recognizes a pattern. MJ came to him for support that she wasn't getting from Peter, but she didn't care about him at all. She never cared about him, she was always using him, even when they first began dating, even if she didn't know it at the time. It reminds him of what his father said about her. Cue him hallucinating his father, who goads him into taking revenge on Peter. He refuses at first and breaks the mirror, discovering all the Goblin tech. It is THEN that he decides to get all Goblined up.

Meanwhile, MJ comes to a realization about herself and decides OF HER OWN VOLITION to finally end it with Peter, telling him that she loves someone else when Peter just won't let it go. LET HER MAKE A GOOD DECISION FOR ONCE!!! This will be good for her. Peter is incapable of giving her the validation and support she needs, and she doesn't have the backbone to confront him about the cause of her discontentment, settling for bottling it all up and going to other men for attention instead. And, also, it's a recognizable pattern that Peter really only loves her because he's always wanted to save her. First from her abusive father and shitty boyfriend and then from supervillains and theatre critics. He needs to grow up past that. This is just best for everyone.

Peter is walking alone, sadly contemplating the engagement ring he meant to propose to MJ with (mirroring the scene earlier in the movie, but he's broken-hearted this time rather than hopeful), and Harry snatches him up (you can still have Peter almost losing the ring like in the movie, it's still a priority because he needs to return it to Aunt May). Harry's plan here was to break Peter's heart and kill him while he was still down, but Peter gets the upper hand and injures Harry. No memory loss, just the mutilation Harry suffers in the movie.

Then all the shit with Brock and then Peter humiliating MJ and realizing "oh ew this gunk on me is making me a bad person". All that. Brock and Marko team up and kidnap GWEN STACY, and, knowing that he can't take on both, Peter goes to Harry. He doesn't have MJ as a bargaining chip, but that shouldn't matter, an innocent person will die if Spiderman can't win this fight. Harry tells him to fuck off.

Harry watches the fight play out on the news, seeing Peter get his ass handed to him and unfortunately getting no satisfaction out of it. Bernard (his butler) confronts him and tells him about the night his father died and about the nature of his wounds, confirming that Norman Osborn indeed killed himself. This is the tipping point for Harry, and he leaves to help Peter.

And you know what? Without all the weird convoluted drama of Harry losing his memory and then regaining it, it's more clear that Harry's conflict parallels Peter's own. They both have to cope with misidentifying their father figures' killers and taking out their anger on innocent people. They both even had another parental figure be the one to confront their harmful coping mechanisms: Aunt May and Bernard. Also, Peter dealt with the ghost of Uncle Ben haunting him as a representation of his guilt in the second movie the same way Harry sees his dead father in this one.

I don't like Harry dying. Yes, it's canon to literally every iteration of Spiderman, but fuck canon, look what I'm already doing. And if you know anything about the Green Goblin, it's that he always comes back. Not necessarily through resurrection or anything, but if you kill the Green Goblin, there's always gonna be some asshole that finds his tech and becomes him. It's much more cost-efficient to reform the New Goblin and just have him there. We didn't have a 4th movie, it's not gonna screw things up too bad. I guess it would mess up the continuity of No Way Home (which I still haven't watched) but shhhhh. Let me have him. I really liked him as a kid. Yeah, I liked this single depiction of Harry Osborn as the New Goblin. I just thought his armour and hoverboard were really cool

So, Harry and Peter have reconciled and go to one of MJ's performances. And maybe we get Jay Jonah Jameson's reaction to the New Goblin and New Goblin getting a real name from the press because he's not really goblin-like, and Jameson certainly wouldn't be paying enough attention to recognize the Green Goblin tech. Is this sacrilege considering New Goblin/what's-his-name never appears in the comics? I do what I want, I'll make shit up.

I feel so pretentious rewriting a superhero movie, but I'm not like a middle-aged man angry about the new Star Wars, I'm just someone who thought this movie was really cool as a child... and thinks it really needs some work as an adult.

[quandaryitem]

what the fuck do you think gonzo journalism is

so somebody mentioned The Bostonians which has been on my notional to-read list (that doesn't rly exist until i see the books in 2nd hand shops and then i buy them and they go on my shelf, which is used to impress women) for a long time. mostly this is due to a single person harping on about it, in a way that makes me think there really really really is some deep wisdom/insight hidden in it that we need to uncover. i do think books can be like this, like if you read any book before book X, then it's sort of a waste of time because book X will produce such a deep meaning-shift that you'll have to go back over all those other books to discover their new transformed meanings. like replaying super mario 64 with luigi i guess. nobody likes him but you gotta do it

anyway so The Bostonians - this is all hearsay but it's about a guy in 19th century boston who writes about these various society figures, i assume that there is drama, there are interactions, there are descriptions of various types of guy. i don't think anything is unique about this by the way, but the author was apparently quite famous so this particular novel has gained some amount of historical significance. i don't think it's anywhere close to being his most famous novel (i didn't see it in the (Top) section for him on wikipedia) but it's by him, so there

i think something interesting about this is that while i'm sure the writer was trying to entertain (aren't artists so pure of heart, they just want to give us a thing to enjoy, bless them) and also record some historical moment (i love how people say this nowadays, history is made up of moments, it's like a moment when you are with a girl and the sun goes down and you kiss. that's history) but ALSO devilishly, to use the collected charisma and notoriety of the figures as feedstock for his own process, to produce his novel and publish it and secure his own fame. it goes both ways too though, the people depicted in the novel (i don't think it matters if they are real or fictional characters, they're obviously based on real people they always are and no doubt they made sure others knew it) get more fame if the novel is a hit

so there's this symbiotic relationship, the author and the people he is writing about. they let him into their life and he writes about them, hell it doesn't even need to be true as i have mentioned, it's about setting the personalities in amber. i think something that bugs me about this is how this is always being sold as a new idea. i remembered the phrase gonzo journalism and just how mad it makes me, like as if hunter s thompson was the first person to acknowledge that the writer is subjective. of course he didn't invent that phrase, it was invented by a journalist. who was trying to make their own name, right? they thought of this pithy original phrase to describe a thing that's so old and so obvious to anyone, to make their own name. i was gonna write something like "maybe that's what writing is all about" but that adds a wistful curious incomplete note to something i am so, so sure of

[jasonlindsey]

Content that Celebrates Craftsmanship, Real Talent and a Narrative Driven Library: Jason Lindsey's Project with Pella Windows

From Notes from a Rep's Journal

Photographer and Director Jason Lindsey uses a photo-journalistic approach to his shoots, to let authenticity sit at the forefront of his imagery and push a narrative through each frame. He had several shoots with Pella Windows, in which he needed to create a library of images for the brand, working on real work sites with real employees. Jason grew up surrounded by factory workers and he spent his formative years working on a farm, instilling in him the value of a hard day’s work and the “salt of the earth” people who do it. Because of this, he is marked by a love of the satisfaction that comes from turning challenges into opportunities and the resourcefulness that is needed for this line of work. These experiences and philosophies poised him to work alongside the Pella employees, to create a library of images that tell a story and embody the nature of the work.

Throughout his career, Jason and the Art Producer on this project's paths have crossed many times. From her past company to her time at Pella, the two have collaborated on shoots for different products and styles. This long-term working relationship allows for a mutual understanding of approach and desired style which led to smooth shoots. An immersive storytelling of the craftsmanship and innovation of the product alongside interpersonal relationships of the crew, these images capture the pulse of the worksite.

In our interview, Jason offers insights the symbiotic relationship between artistry and authenticity in his photography, along with how his long term partnership added value to this production.

You have worked with the Art Producer on this project for many projects in the past, how did that relationship affect the collaboration on this project?

Building enduring relationships goes beyond mere business transactions; it's about understanding each other on a personal level. Over the 20 years that I've worked with the art producer on this project, we've developed a deep sense of trust and a shorthand in communication. This not only streamlines the creative process but also allows for a more intuitive understanding of each other's vision and preferences.

Working with real construction workers on active job sites sounds like it could be challenging. How did you approach this shoot?

I believe in adopting a photojournalistic approach, striving to authentically document the real work unfolding before me. Establishing rapport with the construction crew was key. By engaging with them beyond the lens, getting to know their craft, and understanding their motivations, I was able to build trust and capture genuine moments without the need for staged scenes.

How do you navigate the balance between a photojournalistic approach and the need for specific shots outlined by the client?

While I embrace the spontaneity of photojournalism, I also recognize the importance of meeting the client's objectives. When I get to the job site each morning, I review the shot list with the client and then connect with the Pella crew to go through the shot list while keeping in mind their install plan for that day. There are times when those don't align, and since it is a true job site and the installs only happen once and cannot be repeated, it's important that we all know the plan for the day. Prioritizing and planning is paramount on projects like this and clear communication is key. Being on a live construction site means adapting to the unpredictable nature of the environment.

What did you find most rewarding on this project?

I have always been the kind of person to jump into a project head first and get my hands dirty. Even before I became a photographer, I worked on farms growing up and now dedicate a lot of my personal time to maintaining a nature preserve that I own. I understand the value of this kind of work and the grit it takes to make it happen. So for me, this project was rewarding because I was able to work alongside the construction workers, capturing genuine moments of their craftsmanship. I think that this dedication that they have and my reverence for this type of work created a compelling library of images.