#dora skirth

[umbra-by-jacqui-natla]

Chapter Twenty Three

Forty-five minutes had passed since the chaos erupted at the restaurant when they finally arrived at the hospital. Eddie was being rushed into the MRI room while Carrie found herself accompanying Dr. Lewis into his office.

Dr. Lewis looked at Carrie with concern etched on his face. "Are you okay? I can only imagine how distressing it must have been for you to witness Eddie's behavior."

Carrie hesitated before answering. "I'm fine, thank you.”

Dr. Lewis leaned against his desk and asked, "Do you feel any better now? Any lingering headaches or episodes of collapsing?"

Carrie shook her head, her anxiety palpable. "No, I haven't."

"Good," Dr. Lewis said, retrieving a folder from his desk drawer. "I have something to show you regarding your blood test."

Carrie's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anticipation and confusion swirling within her. She observed intently as Dr. Lewis delicately placed the folder on his desk, his hands moving with purpose. With a gentle touch, he opened the folder, revealing a piece of paper that he carefully positioned in front of her.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the paper. It was not her blood test results, but rather a sample. Dr. Lewis began to explain, his voice calm and reassuring, "What I'm about to show you is what a normal blood test result looks like. It serves as a reference point, giving us a general understanding of a person's health. These results aid us in determining the appropriate treatments they require."

Carrie's confusion deepened as she glanced back and forth between the sample results and Dr. Lewis. Why was he showing her a sample blood test? Where were her own results? Her mind raced with questions, her anxiety growing with each passing moment.

She couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with her own blood test results, something that Dr. Lewis was hesitant to reveal. The anticipation in the room was palpable, and Carrie's heart pounded even harder, threatening to burst out of her chest.

"Now, I'm going to show you your blood test result," he declared, his voice filled with anticipation as he gently placed Carrie's blood test result on his desk, directly in front of her.

This was the moment she had been anxiously awaiting, hoping for some clarity. However, as her eyes scanned the document, a wave of bewilderment washed over her. She glanced at the sample result, then back at her own, only to find a single word glaring back at her relentlessly: Error.

"And what's truly perplexing is that we conducted the test not once, but twice, and the outcome remained unchanged," he disclosed, his voice laced with concern.

Carrie's heart sank as she processed Dr. Lewis' words. Error. How could this be? She had come to the doctor's office seeking answers, hoping that the blood test would provide some clarity to the mysterious symptoms that had been plaguing her for months. But now, it seemed like she was back at square one.

Dr. Lewis, a seasoned and respected physician, furrowed his brow as he studied Carrie's test results. He had seen his fair share of medical anomalies throughout his career, but this was a new level of perplexity. The fact that the test had been conducted twice, with the same inconclusive outcome, only deepened the mystery.

Carrie's mind raced with questions. What did this mean for her health? Was there something seriously wrong with her? She had been experiencing unexplained voices, persistent headaches, and a general feeling of malaise. Perhaps explained why she has powers of her own. She had hoped that the blood test would provide some answers, but instead, it had only added to the confusion.

Dr. Lewis could sense the growing anxiety in Carrie as she stared at her blood test results. "I understand that this is frustrating and confusing, Carrie," he said, his voice filled with empathy. "But we won't give up. We'll explore every avenue until we find the..."

Dr. Lewis's voice trailed off as Carrie's eyes fixated on her blood test results. The word "Error" seemed to glare back at her, mocking her. Suddenly, the words on the page began to shift and transform into an unfamiliar language that Carrie had grown accustomed to. But then, something even stranger happened. The words morphed into a haunting poem, one that only she could understand.

The words painted a vivid yet enigmatic picture, leaving Carrie both intrigued and unsettled. Determined not to let the poem slip away, she committed it to memory, etching each line into the depths of her mind. It was as if the words held a secret, a key to unraveling the mysteries that surrounded her. 

Suddenly, Dr. Lewis's voice broke through Carrie's thoughts. "Carrie? Are you alright? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Carrie's mind was jolted back to reality as Dr. Lewis's voice pierced through the haze. She blinked, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. "I... I'm not sure," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "But something strange just happened. I think I heard a poem inside my head."

The air seemed to grow heavy with an unseen presence, as if the very atmosphere held its breath. A dark, feminine voice echoed in Carrie's mind, filled with bitterness and urgency. "No!" it urged vehemently.

Dr. Lewis's concern deepened as he observed Carrie's bewildered expression. "A poem? What kind of poem?" he inquired, his voice laced with curiosity and worry.

Carrie hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should share the haunting words that had invaded her thoughts. But the need to unravel this mystery outweighed her apprehension. With a trembling voice, she began to recite the verses that had materialized in her mind. Dr. Lewis listened intently, his brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to comprehend the enigmatic words.

"I've never encountered anything like this before," he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of fascination and concern. "It's possible that the stress of the situation has triggered some sort of hallucination, but..."

The dark voice interrupted once more, its tone now laced with anger. "Don't tell him," it warned, its words dripping with urgency and defiance.

Carrie's heart raced, but she mustered the courage to speak up. "T-There are more verses," she managed to reply, her voice trembling. The weight of the unknown pressed upon her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something far greater at play.

Dr. Lewis leaned in closer, his eyes fixed on Carrie's face. "Please, go on," he urged, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

Carrie took a deep breath, her mind still reeling from the inexplicable experience. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the remaining verses that had invaded her thoughts. As she spoke, the words flowed from her lips, each line more haunting than the last.

"Black dawn, black moon, the Klyntar are to commune, their new life will start soon, their strength grows yet not immune. Black dawn, black moon, sounds weakens, make them hewn, falling down and feeling prune, not so peaceful or melodic tune."

As the final words escaped her lips, a shiver coursed through Carrie's body. The atmosphere in the room grew colder, and an unsettling silence settled over them. Dr. Lewis's eyes widened, fixated on Carrie, a mix of awe and concern etched on his face.

"That... That was... quite unsettling," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I mean, it possesses a hypnotic quality, yet it also carries a disturbing undertone. It sounded like you're saying that these verses seem to hold a profound significance for you."

Carrie pursed her lips together, her hands locked together and her heart racing within her chest. "I can't quite explain it, but I sense that there's more to this poem. It's as if it's trying to convey a message."

Dr. Lewis reached out, his hand gently resting on Carrie's trembling shoulder. "Carrie, I believe you," he said earnestly. "To help me understand what's happening, I need to ask you something. When did you come across or learn this poem?"

"Don't tell him everything, especially about me," a dark, feminine voice whispered to Carrie.

Carrie proceeded to answer his question cautiously. "It's been about six months now."

"And where did you find it?"

"On a scrap of paper. I wrote it down in my journal."

Dr. Lewis leaned forward, his eyes intense. "Do you remember where you found the scrap of paper?"

Carrie's heart raced as she tried to recall the details. "I...I don't remember exactly. It was on a book I was reading, I think. After I woke up from a nightmare."

Suddenly, a dark, feminine voice echoed in her mind, causing Carrie to flinch. "No!" the voice roared. "Don't tell him anything!"

Dr. Lewis noticed her reaction and pressed further. "What kind of nightmare did you have?"

Carrie hesitated, unsure if she should reveal the truth. But the voice in her head grew louder, demanding that she keep quiet. "It was just a stupid nightmare," she finally said, her voice shaking. "Nothing more."

Dr. Lewis studied her carefully, sensing that there was more to the story. But for now, he decided to let it go. He knew that Carrie was hiding something, and he was determined to find out what it was.

Dr. Lewis leaned even closer, his eyes narrowing. "Are you sure you don't remember? It's important, Carrie. We need to know where that scrap of paper came from."

Carrie's heart pounded in her chest, her palms growing clammy. She desperately tried to recall the details, but the memory seemed to slip through her fingers like smoke. "I...I can't remember," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "It's all a blur."

The dark, feminine voice in her mind grew more insistent, its tone dripping with malice. "Don't trust him, Carrie. He might hurt you, like you've been hurt before. Like I've been hurt."

Dr. Lewis observed the fear etched on Carrie's face, causing him to lean back slightly in his chair. His unwavering gaze locked onto her, as he spoke with a calm yet determined tone. "Carrie, I need you to trust me. Whatever you're hiding, it's important..."

The room seemed to grow eerily silent to Carrie, as if all sound had been muffled. It was a disorienting sensation, almost as if she were losing her hearing. However, amidst the silence, she could hear a dark, feminine voice resonating in her mind. It praised her for obeying its commands, but there was a distinct malice in its tone whenever it mentioned Dr. Lewis, branding him as useless and worthless.

A small coffee mug on the desk shifted ever so slightly, catching Carrie's attention. It was a subtle movement, one that only she seemed to notice.

"If you want to talk about it," Dr. Lewis's voice broke through the silence, attempting to offer support.

"No!" Carrie's voice erupted in a scream, her eyes tightly shut. Her own voice seemed to merge with the dark, feminine voice in her head, creating a chilling harmony.

Suddenly, the coffee mug slipped from the desk, causing Dr. Lewis to jump in surprise. It landed perfectly in Carrie's hands, as she slowly opened her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she placed the mug back on the desk, her expression filled with confusion.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to knock it off."

"But... You didn't touch it," Dr. Lewis replied, his voice filled with astonishment.

Carrie's confusion deepened as she looked down at her hands, which were now empty. She couldn't understand how the mug had ended up in her grasp without her even reaching for it. The room seemed to grow colder, and a shiver ran down her spine.

Dr. Lewis's eyes widened in astonishment as he witnessed the inexplicable event unfolding before him. His mind raced, desperately searching for a rational explanation, but it failed to provide any answers.

"Carrie, did you...did you just move that mug with your mind?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Carrie's eyes darted anxiously around the room, fearing that her secret had been exposed.

"Are you the same Carrie responsible for the events on Prom Night?" Dr. Lewis inquired calmly.

Suddenly, the room erupted into chaos. The ground trembled violently, bookshelves toppled over, the lamplight flickered erratically, and the desk shook uncontrollably. It felt as if pandemonium had been unleashed. Despite his fear, Dr. Lewis managed to maintain his composure as he continued to engage with her. "Are you causing all of this?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," Carrie confessed, her voice filled with shame. She acknowledged his three questions, admitting her involvement.

Dr. Lewis's mind reeled with a mix of disbelief and fascination. He had heard of telekinesis, the ability to move objects with the power of the mind, but he had never witnessed it firsthand. And now, here was Carrie, a seemingly ordinary young woman, revealing her extraordinary abilities.

As the chaos in the room intensified, Dr. Lewis remained steadfast, determined to understand the truth behind Carrie's powers. He had heard rumors about her involvement in the events on Prom Night, a night that had ended in tragedy and destruction. The whispers had suggested that Carrie had somehow unleashed her telekinetic abilities in a fit of anger and revenge.

But now, faced with the undeniable evidence of her powers, Dr. Lewis couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy towards Carrie. He could see the shame in her eyes, the weight of her actions weighing heavily on her conscience. It was clear that she had been grappling with her abilities, struggling to control them and the havoc they could wreak.

"Carrie," Dr. Lewis spoke softly, his voice breaking through the pandemonium, "Do you recall that fateful night?"

"I... I remember it all," she replied, her voice intertwining with the sinister feminine presence within her mind.

Her eyes flickered rapidly, transforming into an abyssal black as they locked onto Dr. Lewis. Both of them stood frozen, their silence echoing the weight of what had just transpired. It was impossible to determine which aspect was more chilling: the sheer magnitude of Carrie's powers, the imminent threat of her losing control once again, or the shocking admission of her involvement in a crime that would forever etch itself into the annals of national history.

A gentle knock resonated through the room, and with a mere thought, Carrie's green eyes returned and she restored order to Dr. Lewis' office, erasing any trace of the chaos that had consumed it moments ago.

"Enter," Dr. Lewis managed to utter, still awestruck by the spectacle he had witnessed.

A nurse entered, positioning himself by the doorway. "I wanted to inform you that Mr. Brock is now resting and is prepared for the MRI test."

"'I'll attend to him immediately," he responded, and the nurse departed, closing the door behind him.

Dr. Lewis turned back to Carrie, his expression grave. "We must discuss what happened that night, Carrie. It's crucial for your treatment and for the safety of those around you."

Carrie nodded, her eyes returning to their emerald hue. "I understand, Doctor."

Dr. Lewis took a deep breath before continuing. "Can you tell me what happened on the night of the prom?"

Carrie closed her eyes, trying to push away the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. "I was so excited to go to the prom. I had never been to a school dance before, and I had a beautiful dress that I made myself."

She paused, taking a deep breath. "But then, they started to laugh at me. They poured pig's blood on me, and everyone laughed. I was so angry, so hurt. And then... then I just lost control."

Dr. Lewis leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Carrie. "What do you mean, lost control?"

Carrie opened her eyes, and Dr. Lewis could see the darkness creeping back into them. "I mean, I used my powers. I made the fire, I made the chaos. I killed them all."

Dr. Lewis shivered as a cold sensation traveled down his spine, sending a wave of unease through his body. He had always suspected that Carrie was behind the tragic deaths at the prom, but hearing her confess to it so calmly was truly unsettling.

Curiosity and fear mingled in his voice as he asked, "What are you?"

Carrie's response was filled with a grimness that matched the gravity of the situation. "To be honest, I've been asking that very question myself," she replied. Without giving him a chance to respond, she abruptly rose from her seat and made a beeline for the door. However, before leaving, she issued a chilling warning. "If I were you, Dan... I would pray that our paths never cross again."

Dr. Lewis couldn't simply brush off her words. "I wouldn't dismiss that possibility right away," he retorted.

Carrie's expression remained unchanged as she exited his office, leaving behind an air of uncertainty and foreboding.

As Eddie slowly regained consciousness, a soft melody filled the air, caressing his ears. Blinking his eyes open, he found himself surrounded by the unfamiliar confines of a metallic enclosure. Clad in a sky-blue hospital gown, his legs exposed and clad in pristine white socks, Eddie couldn't help but feel a wave of confusion wash over him.

Suddenly, a voice resonated from the speakers embedded within the box, calling out his name. "Eddie? Eddie, can you hear me? This is Dan speaking to you," Dr Lewis's voice echoed, breaking through the silence.

Startled, Eddie responded, his voice laced with bewilderment. "Hey, Dan."

A warm chuckle escaped Dr Lewis's lips as he welcomed Eddie back to consciousness. "Welcome back," he remarked, his tone filled with reassurance.

Still grappling with his surroundings, Eddie couldn't help but voice his confusion. "Where am I?"

With a gentle sigh, Dr Lewis explained, "Well, Eddie, you're currently inside the MRI machine. We've administered a mild sedative to help you relax."

Eddie's mind whirled with questions, but for now, he would have to trust in Dr Lewis's expertise as he embarked on this mysterious journey within the confines of the scanner.

Concern etched across Eddie's face as he questioned the whereabouts of his loved ones. "Where is Anne? And Carrie? Where are they?"

Soothingly, Dr. Lewis responded, "Anne is not here right now. But Carrie is in the waiting room. We're going to run some tests, okay? It's going to be completely painless. So, you know, just try to stay still. Uh, relax, and, um... Yeah, here we go."

Eddie's heart raced as he tried to process the information. His mind was still foggy, but the urgency in Dr. Lewis' voice made him realize that something serious must have happened. He couldn't remember how he ended up in the MRI machine or why he needed tests, but he trusted Dr. Lewis to guide him through this confusing ordeal.

As the machine hummed to life, Eddie closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing thoughts. The soft melody continued to play, its soothing notes providing a small comfort amidst the uncertainty. He focused on the music, allowing it to transport him to a place of tranquility.

Dr. Lewis's voice broke through the melody, bringing Eddie back to the present. "Alright, Eddie, we're going to start the scan now. Just stay still and let the machine do its work."

Eddie nodded, his body tense as he felt the machine move around him. The confined space of the scanner made him feel claustrophobic, but he reminded himself that this was necessary to find answers. He trusted Dr. Lewis to uncover the truth behind his current state.

Suddenly, a piercing buzz pierced through Eddie's ears, causing him to writhe in discomfort. It felt as if something within him was desperately trying to break free, vehemently protesting against the sound. Eddie couldn't help but scream in agony, his voice echoing within the confines of the box.

Alarmed by Eddie's distress, Dr Lewis urgently inquired, "Eddie, what's happening in there? Are you okay?"

But Eddie was unable to respond, his body writhing in pain as the sound intensified. It felt as if his head was being crushed, his thoughts jumbled and chaotic.

Noticing the flickering screen, Dr. Lewis turned to the nurse and commanded, "Turn it off," before rushing to the adjacent room.

As the nurse swiftly powered down the scanner, Eddie let out a groan and slowly rose from the scanning bed.

"Hey, hey, hey," Dr. Lewis reassured, helping Eddie to his feet. "You're okay. You're alright, buddy."

"Yeah," Eddie meekly replied.

"Look at me," Dr. Lewis gently placed his hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Eddie repeated, pushing Dr. Lewis's hand away.

"Alright. Just take a deep breath. You're safe now."

Eddie took a deep breath in, trying to steady himself. "Yeah."

"Just, get your stuff together and waiting outside with Carrie."

As Eddie strolled away, retrieving his partially dried clothes, the nurse's gaze fixated on the screen, witnessing the most peculiar and uncanny sight. Projected on the display was a diagram of Eddie's body, marred by an enigmatic black substance. The nurse's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The black substance seemed to be spreading rapidly throughout Eddie's body, almost like a virus. And he let him get out, and all he could do was hope that it was nothing serious.

Carrie sat in the waiting room, her eyes scanning the area. She saw a few people waiting to be seen, just like her. She couldn't help but think about her conversation with Dr. Lewis. The words he spoke to her were still ringing in her ears. She felt like she was going to explode with anger.

Suddenly, the dark feminine voice spoke to her. "And yet you still keep me in," the voice said.

Carrie knew that the voice wasn't wrong. She had been trying to suppress for so long. She tried to ignore the voice, but it was persistent. It kept whispering to her, urging her to let it out. She knew she couldn't do that. Not here, not now.

But the voice was getting louder and louder, and Carrie could feel her powers building up inside her. She knew she had to do something before it was too late.

Taking a deep breath, Carrie closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She tried to push the voice away, to suppress it once again. And slowly, but surely, the voice faded away.

Carrie opened her eyes and looked around the waiting room. She saw the people waiting, just like her. But now, she felt different. She felt in control. And she knew that she could handle anything that came her way.

She looked out the window, the light shining on her face. Memories flooded her mind, memories of a time when she had unleashed her powers on those who had wronged her. She had learned to control them since then, but the anger still lingered.

But amidst the chaos of her thoughts, a new memory emerged, one that had long been suppressed and hidden away. It flickered before her eyes, like a distant star fighting to be seen amidst a sea of darkness.

"Carrie?"

Surprised, her attention was caught by the sound of her name.

It was Mr. Ulmann, her English teacher, who had spoken. He was a man in his forties, with a head of brown hair and dull, lifeless brown eyes. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and a black tie, he appeared rather disheveled with his stubbled round face. Carrie was well aware that Mr. Ulmann didn't hold her in high regard, much like most of the students at Ewen High. Therefore, when she heard her name being called by him, a wave of anxiety washed over her.

Continuing the conversation, Mr. Ulmann inquired, "Your poem? Do you have it?"

Almost imperceptibly, Carrie nodded in response.

"Well, can we hear it?"

With her nerves getting the best of her, Carrie retrieved a sheet of paper and began reading from it, her voice barely audible.

"Carrie, why don't you come up to the front of the class?" Mr. Ulmann interrupted. "So we can all hear it?"

Twins Nicki and Lizzy Watson exchanged a mischievous glance, stifling their laughter, while Sue Snell and Tommy Ross exchanged a look of concern, as if silently conveying, 'Oh no, this is going to be dreadful.'

"I'll read my poem, Mr. Ulmann," Sue volunteered.

"Thank you, Sue," Mr. Ulmann acknowledged, his gaze shifting to the blonde student. "But for now, I want to hear Carrie's." He then turned his attention towards Carrie. "Ms. White?"

As Carrie made her way up the aisle, she could feel the weight of every single gaze on her, accompanied by a few snickers from some of the students. Standing in front of the chalkboard, which looked like a disaster, she began to mumble her lines.

"Louder, Carrie," Mr. Ulmann urged.

Carrie turned to him, her face twisted in anguish, before resuming her recitation, this time louder, her eyes glued to the page in front of her.

"Jesus watches from the wall, but his face is cold as stone, and if he loves me, as she tells me, why do I feel so all alone?"

While a few of the kids couldn't help but giggle at the mention of Jesus, Sue, on the other hand, could sense the pain and isolation that resonated within Carrie's brief words.

"Is that... all, Carrie?" Mr. Ulmann inquired.

There was no response from the girl.

"Who is the 'he' that loves you in the poem? Jesus?" he continued.

After a momentary pause, Carrie nodded.

"You want Jesus to love you?" Mr. Ulmann probed further.

Once again, Carrie nodded, and this time, the kids couldn't contain their amusement, reveling in the opportunity to mock their classmate. Fueled by their giggles, Mr. Ulmann couldn't resist adding to the spectacle.

"You want Jesus to take you to the prom?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Carrie shook her head, her face flushed with embarrassment and mortification. Suddenly, something inside her stirred, a dark and primal force that growled with a female voice.

"Let me out!" the voice demanded. "Let me kill him! Let me kill them all!"

Tommy muttered under his breath, "Asshole."

Those who overheard Tommy's comment couldn't help but giggle even more.

"Tommy?" Mr. Ulmann inquired, catching wind of the insult. "Did you say something?"

"That you're acting like an asshole, sir," Tommy boldly replied.

Carrie looked up at her defender, the dark voice in her head faded away, while Sue glanced at Tommy in surprise.

"Carrie's poem is the finest we've heard," Tommy added, further aggravating the situation.

The students braced themselves, anticipating Mr. Ulmann's reaction. He straightened himself up and sternly declared, "Detention, Mr. Ross."

"I have baseball practice, sir. My coach wouldn't be pleased if I missed it, especially if I explained why," Tommy retorted confidently.

Rather than escalating the conflict, Mr. Ulmann decided to let it go, realizing the futility of pursuing it further.

"Take your seat, Carrie," he grudgingly instructed, acknowledging her presence.

As Carrie complied and walked past Tommy, he gave her a subtle wink, causing Sue to look at him in awe.

"All right, Ms. Snell," Mr Ulmann resumed. "Let's hear yours . . “

The thought of that memory from her school days left Carrie feeling unsettled. It was strange how the enigmatic female voice had seemingly existed within her mind for as long as she could remember, whispering eerie promises that sent shivers down her spine.

As she turned her head, Carrie noticed Dr. Lewis approaching with Eddie, who appeared exhausted, by his side. Rising from her chair, she made her way towards them.

"Hey, Eddie," she greeted, concern evident in her voice. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Eddie responded, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was really loud in there. I kinda freaked out."

The dark voice within Eddie's head suddenly erupted, shouting, causing Carrie to exchange a worried glance with him.

"Now, listen," Dr. Lewis interjected, taking the lead. "You're not the first person to have a panic attack in there. I get claustrophobic too."

As they walked out of the hospital, a woman's voice called out to Dr. Lewis. He turned to see a middle-aged woman holding a small dog in her arms.

"Hey, Mrs. Manfredi," he greeted her.

"I just saw Morris," Mrs. Manfredi replied, her dog yapping. "And he's whining and complaining like an old baby again."

Dr. Lewis chuckled. "Oh, good."

As the conversation continued, the dog's behavior became increasingly erratic. It began to bark and growl at Eddie, as if sensing something ominous lurking within him. Carrie's eyes narrowed, darkening slightly as she emitted a low, menacing growl. The dog cowered before her, whimpering in fear.

Dr. Lewis, trying to regain control of the situation, addressed Mrs. Manfredi, "Okay, Mrs. Manfredi, we discussed the matter of the dog. Unfortunately, you cannot keep it." Apologizing, she replied, "Sorry... Gemini..."

With a heavy heart, they walked away, the echoes of Gemini's growls slowly fading into the distance.

"We're gonna get to the bottom of this, alright," Dr. Lewis reassured Eddie, his gaze filled with determination. "But for now, go home and rest."

Eddie nodded in agreement, his weariness evident. "Uh-huh."

"I will contact you as soon as your test results are in.”

"Alright, thank you, Dan. Thank you," Eddie expressed his gratitude.

"Oh, and Carrie?"

Carrie turned her head to face him. Dr. Lewis couldn't help but be lost in the memories of their conversation not so long ago. His gaze lingered on her, his lips pursed with concern. Finally, he mustered the courage to speak, his voice filled with genuine care, "Remember, if anything ever happens to you, don't hesitate to call me."

Carrie nodded, her eyes reflecting gratitude and trust. With a soft "okay," she continued on her way, walking past Eddie and making her way back to their apartment.

Link to Chapter Twenty Four

[reaperlight]

Venom and Name Meanings

Eddie, from Edward -- (middle English) "Guardian of prosperity"

(Guardian or a protector it's right in the name.)

Brock -- (old English, Celtic) "badger"

(Also possibly a complete coincidence but nevertheless amusing, Eddie Brock kinda sounds like Edderkopp, the Norwegian word for "spider.")

Cletus-- (Latin, from Greek) "famous, renowned" (he sure is, lol)

Kasady, from Cassidy -- (Irish) "curly-haired,

Descendent of Caiside"

(According to Wikipedia Caiside a family from the Ulster region of poets, churchmen, scholars and hereditary physicians to the Maguire Kings of Ireland.)

Frances -- (English) French, her middle name Louise -- (French) famous warrior, and her alias from the comics Sandra -- (Italian) Defender of mankind

Barrison kind of sounds like garrison, a fortified place. Also discovered this, sharing without further comment...

Anne -- (French from Latin) "favor, grace"

Dan -- (Anglicized from Greek from Hebrew) "God is my Judge"

Lewis -- (Welsh) "strong, leader"

Dora -- (Latin) "gift of God"

Carlton -- (English) "Settlement of the free peasants" (how very ironic)

Drake -- (from Old Norse or Old English) "Dragon"

[spibbb]

sigh. who will write the cool canon divergent symbiote stories I want to read

[defectivevillain]

indigo

pairing: Eddie Brock/Reader/Venom Symbiote/Agony Symbiote

reader's pronouns are they/them; race and gender are ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used

summary: “You’re….” Eddie chokes out, not wanting to get his hopes up. But he recognizes the fatigue in your eyes; the tension in your shoulders; and the hidden synchronicity stringing you together. “Like you?” An alien voice growls. A deep blue mass stretches across your face, seeping through your cheekbones and down your neck. You bare your teeth and Eddie is surprised to see inhumanly long sharpened teeth and a drooling tongue. The sight is painfully familiar: it appears nearly identical to Venom, save for the color. In the blink of an eye, the mass is gone, leaving you to stare at him with a sympathetic smile. “Yes.”

word count: 4.2k | ao3 version

I did some research on the wiki and watched a few clips of the movie, but that’s the extent of my canon knowledge. As such, this won’t be canon compliant.

In this fic, the reader (you) is an experiment of the Life Foundation. Dr. Drake decides to try bonding you with a symbiote. While the union works, it ultimately backfires for him—as you manage to make your escape and go into hiding with the symbiote. Without a symbiote to bond to her, Dr. Skirth ends up living… and once Eddie escapes from the facility, she introduces the two of you.

warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, cannibalism, and human experimentation; vomiting and sickness

There’s someone Dr. Skirth wants Eddie to meet. He hates meeting new people, but he owes Dora a favor, so he agrees to meet up with you in the park under the cover of night. Eddie doesn’t know anything about you, other than the fact that you’re a friend of a friend. According to Dora, you’re also tied to the Life Foundation (how that connection manifests, Eddie isn’t sure). Honestly, Eddie just hopes his meeting with you will be useful. Meanwhile, Venom is, understandably, skeptical about the meeting. They make sure to complain to him several times as he makes his way to the park, and they are only satiated with the promise that they can eat you if you somehow turn out to be a villain. 

Unfortunately for Venom, you don’t appear to be a villain. Rather, you’re wearing deceptively casual clothing: a simple sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. Your hands are shoved in your pockets; there are dark circles under your eyes and you’re staring down at the cracks in the pavement as you stand under a flickering streetlight. There are scars marking nearly every visible part of you—stretching up your collarbone, running down your face, laced across your hands. One thing is abundantly clear to Eddie in that moment: Life Foundation has left its mark on you, too. 

If you sense him staring, you don’t comment on it. Instead, you just look up and send him a hesitant wave. “Hi,” you say, extending a hand to shake as you introduce yourself. Eddie blinks at you for a moment, before introducing himself in return. After a second, he takes your proffered hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes catch on your cracked knuckles and everything seems to fall into place. It appears you’re far more similar to Eddie than he first thought. 

“You’re….” He finds himself choking out, not wanting to get his hopes up. But he recognizes the fatigue in your eyes; the tension in your shoulders; and the hidden synchronicity stringing you together. 

“Like you?” An alien voice growls. A deep blue mass stretches across your face, seeping through your cheekbones and down your neck. You bare your teeth and Eddie is surprised to see inhumanly long sharpened teeth and a drooling tongue. The sight is painfully familiar: it appears nearly identical to Venom, save for the color. In the blink of an eye, the mass is gone, leaving you to stare at him with a sympathetic smile. “Yes.”

Eddie stares at you in disbelief, amazed by your composure. Right now, he feels as if Venom is in complete control. Yet you seem able to switch between your symbiote and your own visage at will. It’s as if the two of you are in complete agreement. “How…?” He trails off. 

Half of your face is overtaken with the alien entity. “We are Agony.” A warped voice responds, a blend of your voice and the alien’s. Slowly, the alien—Agony—drips down your face and disappears from sight. You’re staring at him with a patient expression now. “We can help you.” You state matter-of-factly. 

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with that offer. He finds himself mechanically proceeding through the rest of the conversation, just barely staying afloat amidst the realization that there may actually be someone willing to help him. A few days ago, Eddie would’ve maintained that he didn’t need help;today, he’s grateful for the offer of assistance that he knows he needs. He has no idea how to navigate this tumultuous new existence he finds himself sharing with the alien creature inside him. 

He locks eyes with you, and an unspoken understanding passes between the both of you. There is a visceral fuzzy feeling in Eddie’s chest, as he stares into the eyes of the one person who could ever truly understand his new life. You stare right back at him, evidently having similar thoughts. The two of you are tied together by fate and its cruelties; you have virtually no choice but to lean on one another, lest you both return to your loneliness. 

Eddie leaves twenty minutes later with your number in his phone and plans to meet with you the next morning. He’s fairly hopeful about it—from what he could tell, you seem like a genuinely kind person. Worn thin from the trials you’ve been forced into, but kind nonetheless. Eddie tries to puzzle out how you could still have sympathy for a world that has shown you nothing but malice. 

“Don’t trust them.” Venom growls, breaking Eddie out of his thoughts. He feels the symbiote’s restless energy humming along his skin, creating goosebumps that run down his arms as he walks home.

Whether Venom’s remark is a profession of their suspicion or a warning, Eddie isn’t sure. He sighs. “Let’s give them a chance,” Eddie maintains, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continues down the street. “If they somehow turn out to be evil, you can eat them. Okay?” 

Venom is silent for a while. “Fine.” They eventually respond, clearly not happy about it. But the renewed promise of food must be too good for them to turn down. 

Eddie nods, secretly relieved. Admittedly, he’s pretty optimistic about you: you appear healthy, sane, and most importantly, comfortable in your own body. You don’t appear to be constantly at war with yourself, which is rather similar to how Eddie feels at the current moment.

“War,” Venom remarks. There’s no telling whether they possess the same spectrum of emotions that humans do, yet they’re speaking with clear sarcasm. “Very dramatic, Eddie.” Eddie just rolls his eyes. 

The rest of his day passes without much fanfare. He eats a rather bland dinner and falls asleep earlier than normal, if only to quiet his restless thoughts. Before long, it’s the next morning—and he’s freshening up before heading out to the diner you agreed to meet at. 

You’re waiting for him in a brightly-colored booth. Eddie walks over to you, muttering a greeting as he takes the seat across from you. You slide a coffee mug over to him, which he drinks gratefully. His curiosity seems to linger in the air around both of you, until you’re relenting and telling Eddie about yourself. He told you about himself when you met last night; now, it’s your turn to tell your story. 

What Eddie hears is enough to turn his stomach and effectively rid him of his appetite. Essentially, you were one of the human captives used as experiments by the Life Foundation. You describe a constant state of numbness at war with dread and fear. You explain how you were practically left to rot behind those glass walls, until it came time for you to be the next test subject. You recount how you were exposed to the blue symbiote… and how, upon your successful union, Life Foundation planned to experiment on you further. By the time you’re describing your escape, Eddie is resisting the urge to reach out and place a hand over your shaking one—desperate to provide comfort to the one person who understands what it’s like to have a parasite living inside them. 

“Not a parasite,” Venom hisses, breaking Eddie out of his thoughts. They sound strangely offended by the remark.

“Right, they don’t like being called that,” you murmur, tapping your fingers rhythmically against the table. Eddie blinks, thrown back into reality. “Symbiote is better.” Agony interjects. You seem entirely unbothered by the interruption. 

An awkward silence descends across the space for a moment, before Eddie blurts out the first thought that comes to mind. “I’m hungry,” Eddie frowns. Indeed, his stomach aches with emptiness—despite his knowledge that he ate just before falling asleep the previous night. 

“We’re hungry.” Venom corrects him. 

You’re looking at him— them, Eddie reminds himself—with amusement. The expression is fleeting. “Right,” you then say, as if you’re just remembering. A grimace rises on your face. “Well. There are two options: chocolate… and human brains.”

Eddie stares at you warily. He didn’t think you were the type to joke about things like this, but it just sounds too far fetched to be real. He must’ve misjudged you, somehow. As if sensing his doubt, you attempt to explain further. 

“I know, I was skeptical too,” you admit, rubbing a hand over your face. While your relationship with Agony seems a lot more clearly defined than Eddie and Venom’s, there’s still a lingering exhaustion written in the lines of your face. You take a slow breath. “Their species requires different nutrients than ours: namely, phenethylamine.” 

“Human brains are better.” Agony states. 

You sigh. “It’s true. Chocolate is really only a temporary fix, because it doesn’t last nearly as long. The two of us have struck up an agreement to only eat bad people, so there’s at least a bit of morality involved...” You break off, clearly sensing Eddie’s impending dread. 

There’s no way around eating humans. It takes him several seconds to process this. Eddie doesn’t want to believe it—doesn’t want to think about the feeling of human matter stuck between his hooked teeth; doesn’t want to think about waking up in the morning, sweat-soaked and stained with the dried blood of a dead stranger. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, your brows furrowed. Eddie hates how sincere you are. And he especially hates how he takes comfort from your reassurance. It shouldn’t mean anything to him—he never cares what people think of him. But the fact that you can not only sympathize with him, but also empathize with him, is rather significant. 

“We can do this,” you promise him. Eddie finds himself oddly appreciative of your choice of wording. You chose to say “we,” as if explicitly confirming your support for him. “We’ll help you.” You repeat. 

“Okay,” he responds stiffly, not trusting himself to say anything else. The two—four—of you spend the rest of the meal in silence. Eventually, the warm sunlight trickles through the windows next to you and breakfast is over. Eddie and you leave the restaurant and stop on the sidewalk outside, turning towards one another. 

“I’ll text you,” you promise. “Let me know if you need anything.” Eddie nods quietly. As if sensing how overwhelmed he feels, your expression morphs into one oddly reminiscent of… affection. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Eddie assents and tells you to do the same, at which a smile rises on your lips. Oddly short of breath, Eddie manages to tear his eyes away and utter a goodbye—though your smile remains in his thoughts for the rest of the day. 

Eddie begins to make progress, slowly but surely. With your guidance, he learns how to communicate better with Venom; fight with their assistance; and even nourish himself better. None of it seems to be important, in the face of the realization that his life will never return back to normal. But, somehow, the satisfied smile on your face when he accomplishes something is enough for Eddie to keep pushing himself. 

Since your first meeting, Venom has warmed up to you a lot more—to the point where they have started speaking to you directly, instead of just speaking to Eddie. Agony has still remained a bit more withdrawn and silent, but their presence is keenly felt regardless. 

Eddie still has moments when he feels as if the world is caving in on him—as if the faces of passerby are contorted in disgust and fear (which was an unfortunate reality in the beginning days of his union with Venom). There are nights when he wakes with dried blood flecked across his skin, but he has grown accustomed to washing it off and forgetting it in the morning. You are a constant companion during these moments, and, sometimes, your touch is the only thing that grounds Eddie to the world around him. Safe to say, the two of you have taken to staying at each other’s apartments more often than not. 

On a few rare occasions, Eddie is the one to hold you—as you remember confinement behind cold glass walls and calculating eyes watching your every move. Eddie can’t imagine what your captivity and torture at the hands of Life Foundation was like… And he’s certain he doesn’t want to think about it, because it will only make him feel even worse. While you’ve both been bonded with symbiotes, Eddie escaped the cruel experimentation that you were subjected to. He was just visiting to get information for an article; you were bound in chains and thrown behind nearly impenetrable barriers. 

Overall, though, things are going well. At least, Eddie wants to think so. But then the universe wants to spite him, and he wakes up one morning feeling as if he was hit by a truck. He’s practically stuck to the cushions of his couch, his limbs as heavy as bricks. His throat is overwhelmingly dry; there’s a bitter taste in his mouth; and, try as he might, he can’t seem to wrench his eyes open. 

“Eddie? …Eddie? Shit.” 

Eddie wakes to a frigid cold. He shivers instinctually, blinking past a strange sheen over his eyelids. It takes his vision several moments to clarify past a swirling blur. His temple is nearly pulsating with pain; his stomach aches and his skin is coated in sweat. Eddie twitches, recognizing your blurry silhouette and realizing you must’ve dumped cold water on him to wake him up. Even now, as he’s been torn from sleep, he’s struggling to stay awake. 

“Eddie?” You ask, sounding very concerned. Eddie isn’t sure he can remember the last time someone was so worried about him. The thought saddens him. Your hands move to his shoulders and you shake him slightly, your brows furrowed. “Can you hear me?” The most Eddie can manage is a weak nod in response. 

“Doesn’t… feel right.” Venom adds. This may be the first time Eddie has ever agreed with Venom.

“Eddie’s sick,” you respond to the symbiote. 

Eddie isn’t able to register much more of your conversation with Venom—not when his ears are ringing and he feels a familiar prickling nausea at the back of his throat. Eddie slowly pushes himself up. Upon realizing that the feeling is steadily climbing up his throat, he clumsily gets to his feet and stumbles towards the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. Eddie can’t quite comprehend what’s happening, other than the burning sensation assaulting his throat and the sudden feel of someone rubbing his back reassuringly. You’re crouching next to him, saying something he can’t make out. Venom responds for him. 

At some point, he stops throwing up and attempts to rest his head. You put the toilet seat down and flush it, before allowing him to do so. Eddie feels a foreign gratitude for the kindness you’re showing him, despite the monster living inside him. The cold porcelain is a welcome sensation on his sweat-soaked skin. 

“Not a monster,” Venom reminds him. Even his companion’s voice is quieter, as if accommodating the headache migrating through his temple and down into his cheekbones and jaw. Eddie doesn’t have the energy to argue. He blinks slowly, the lights of the bathroom only making his headache worse. He feels rather woozy. 

“Here, let’s get you up,” you suggest. Eddie can hardly move, yet your hands bracket his arms and you’re pulling him up as if he weighs nothing at all. (That is likely due to Agony’s help, but he doesn’t exactly have the wherewithal to recognize that). Eddie lurches to the side ominously, but Venom extends a makeshift arm and rights his balance. With Agony, Venom, and you combined, Eddie makes it back to the couch easily. You help him sit down before walking into the kitchen. You return moments later to press a glass of water into his hand. 

Eddie gulps it down greedily. Or, at least, he tries to—only for you to reach out and stop him from drinking any more. “Not too fast,” you remark, taking the glass from his hand and placing it on the adjacent coffee table. “Wait ten minutes or so, just to make sure you can keep it down.”

Eddie stares at you for a long moment, frowning. He hears himself blurting out his thoughts before he can think any better of it.“Why are you here?” Eddie croaks. He is the complete opposite of presentable at the moment; the last thing he wants is for you of all people to see him looking so pathetic. Eddie isn’t exactly sure why he wants to make such a good impression on you, but… he supposes that doesn’t matter now. He can muse on the exact nature of his feelings towards you at a later date, when he doesn’t feel so uncomfortable in his own skin. 

You blink at him for a moment, evidently contemplating the question. “Alone.” Agony responds. Eddie squints at you, watching as the symbiote’s midnight blue mass crawls up your shoulders, as if wrapping an arm around you in reassurance. You don’t even flinch at the sudden presence of your companion. Instead, you take a slow breath and look at Eddie once more. “When it happened to me, I was alone. It was… an isolating experience. I don’t want you to feel the same way.” You explain. 

You then reach down, as if to touch him, only for Venom to protrude from Eddie’s shoulder and snap at you. At least, they attempt to—only for Agony to intercept them and snap threateningly in return. Eddie watches the whole scene through hazy eyes, half-convinced that he’s having a fever dream. Eventually, Agony and Venom seem to resolve their dispute and you reach out towards Eddie again, placing your hand on his forehead to check for his temperature. Eddie can’t stop himself from sighing in relief at your cool skin. You only frown, looking more worried. “You’re burning up,” you say to him. 

“Hot.” Venom adds, clearly feeling a bit of Eddie’s own discomfort. “Like flames.” 

“He has a fever,” you respond, getting to your feet and moving to the kitchen once more. You come back moments later with a towel in hand. Eddie dazedly watches as you approach, folding the towel before placing it on his forehead. He exhales slowly as the cold fabric brings a welcome sensation of frigidity trickling down his temple, fighting off the flames licking at his skin. He’s not sure how long he sits in silence until you’re breaking through it. “Here, it’s been ten minutes. Can you sit up a bit?” You ask. 

Eddie lets out a pained whimper, practically sinking back into the cushions of the couch. Venom stretches out of his back and props him up to a sitting position. Thank you, Eddie thinks. Then the symbiote rises to grasp his forearm, guiding him to grip the glass of water and take another sip. Venom and you then help him return to a reclined position. 

Eddie’s eyelids are stinging with exhaustion. He’s desperately fighting off sleep—blinking tiredly with extra effort. “It’s okay, you can rest,” you reassure him, noticing his fatigue. “We’ll be here when you wake.” 

That comforts him far more than he’d like to admit. Before long, Eddie is slipping into sleep once more. 

“Cared for you,” Venom says days later, when Eddie has mostly recovered. They’re sharing a quiet moment in Eddie’s apartment, sitting on the couch and staring at the television on low-volume. “For us.”

Thinking about his sickness last week, Eddie can’t help but feel humiliated and weak. He’s still embarrassed that you saw him in such a state; frustrated that he needed assistance with even the simplest of tasks; and… grateful, despite it all. You stuck with him in the following few days, giving him medication when needed and ensuring he had enough to eat and drink. You were a constant presence, to the point where Eddie found you asleep on the armchair in his living room numerous times. That sight will be forever burned into his brain: the peaceful expression on your face as your chest rose and fell calmly. He had never seen you look so vulnerable before; and even in the midst of his sickness and the ensuing vulnerability he was forced to show, he felt himself wanting to protect you. It was a foolish thought: Eddie knew you were more than capable of protecting yourself. But perhaps it was just the domesticity of it all—the thought of you becoming a permanent fixture in their life. 

Venom breaks him from his thoughts with a gentle tap at his wrist. Eddie recalls their prior statement and hums. “They did care for us,” he agrees. Venom crawls down his forearm, stretching to inhabit the space between his fingers in what he assumes to be an imitation of hand-holding. There’s an unsettled energy to the symbiote’s presence. Eddie feels a frown overtake his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“It was too quiet.” Venom’s confession settles in the air around him, inhabiting every nook and cranny of his dimly-lit apartment. 

“Sorry,” Eddie eventually murmurs. He’s not sure why he’s apologizing, when the sickness wasn’t under his control. But that tone in Venom’s voice provokes guilt and remorse in him, for reasons he can’t quite elucidate. 

“Don’t do it again.” Venom commands. 

“I don’t really have control over that,” Eddie huffs, attempting to diffuse the sudden tension that settled over the space. Venom lets out a threatening growling noise and he quickly caves. “Fine, fine. I’ll try.”

“Try.” Venom repeats, equal amounts of wry amusement and frustration in their voice. Eddie just hums in response, grasping the symbiote’s tendrils with renewed vigor. Now that he thinks about it, Venom seemed uncharacteristically withdrawn during his sickness: as if they were afraid of pushing him too far past the brink of his energy.

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers again. Venom tightens their grip on his hand in response, and the two of them sit there for a long time after—hands conjoined and fates lovingly intertwined. 

Eddie doesn’t get a chance to thank you until a few days later, when he’s sure his sickness is gone and can safely dismiss the thought of getting you sick. Eddie and Venom meet Agony and you as the sun sets over the horizon, in the same spot where you first met all that time ago. 

Standing under the flickering street light in the park once more, Eddie is unspeakably thankful that he took a chance on you. He can’t imagine where he would be now, without your support. The thought dominates his mind, to the point where he finds himself uttering it aloud moments later. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” Eddie says. 

“You’d be just fine,” you remark with a smile. The way you look at him only adds more fuel to the fire of Eddie’s foolish hopes. When he sees that gleam in your eyes, he can’t help but envision a shared existence: not among two beings, but among four. The thought is misguided and horribly insistent, popping up during the most inopportune of moments. 

Eddie sighs. “I’m serious,” he maintains, trying to convey his sincerity. It seems to work, because you pause and look at him with widening eyes. “I- I couldn’t have done this alone. We couldn’t have done this alone.” Eddie corrects himself, when he can sense Venom about to object. The symbiote drags a tendril down his ribs, in an approving movement that makes his heart race. 

“I’m happy I met you,” you admit. “Selfishly speaking.” Agony crawls up your skin and pops out of your shoulder; Venom does the same, and the two have a conversation in a chittering language that Eddie and you can’t hope to understand. Meanwhile, Eddie is unable to deny your magnetic presence; he can’t help but gravitate towards you. He takes a step closer—past a socially acceptable distance—and stops, trying to study your expression and ascertain your comfort. Eventually, he surrenders and decides to just speak his thoughts.

“Can I…?” Eddie breaks off, unsure of what he’s asking for at the present moment. His thoughts are quickly cascading into a territory far past platonic companionship, but suppressing them is a lost cause. He’s spent too long denying himself the life he wants. Venom crawls up his chest and stretches across his shoulders in a reassuring gesture. Comforted by the reminder of Venom’s presence, Eddie clears his throat and summons the courage to finish his sentence. “Can I kiss you?”

You take a step closer, rendering the distance between the two of you nearly nonexistent. Your hand falls to his forearm and Eddie looks into your eyes, a nervous anticipation running through him as he sees you nod in agreement. “Yes.” You whisper, so quietly that Eddie nearly convinces himself that he imagined it. But before he can second-guess himself, you’re closing the gap between you and kissing him. 

You’re standing so close together that the two of you are practically fusing. Eddie’s hands fall to your waist; your hands cradle his jaw. Agony and Venom prickle along their partners’ shoulders, dripping down your chests and mixing together. Distantly, Eddie remembers how lost and alone he felt when Venom first fused with him. He has long grown out of the feeling, and wonders if, perhaps, that sensation was trying to tell him something. Perhaps, this entire time, existence was meant to be shared amongst three others—rather than just one. 

These philosophical thoughts quickly fade to the back of his mind, as your fingers trace his jaw and slip down to the nape of his neck. Venom rises to meet your hand, just as Agony trickles down your side and runs along Eddie’s knuckles. One realization immediately takes precedence over everything else running through Eddie’s mind: 

He’s never felt so alive.

endnotes: this is definitely the queerest fic I've ever written. and I love it.

Me: I can hardly write kissing scenes with two people. My writer’s brain, cackling: Hear me out. What about… two people and two symbiotes? Me: What. The. Fuck.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[johannepetereric]

RIP Dora

[lamb-writes]

❤︎ = my favorites atm

Barry

✦ Barry Berkman

✧ Sally Reed

✦ NoHo Hank ❤︎

✧ Cristobal Sifuentes

Batman Villains

✦ Harley Quinn

✧ Harvey Dent

✦ Jonathan “Scarecrow” Crane

✧ Oswald “The Penguin” Cobblepot

✦ Pamela “Poison Ivy” Isley

✧ Selina “Catwoman” Kyle ❤︎

✦ The Joker

✧ Victor “Mr. Freeze” Fries

Bullet Train

✦ Ladybug

✧ Lemon ❤︎

✦ Tangerine ❤︎

✧ Yuichi Kimura

Detroit: Become Human

✦ Connor | RK800

✧ Nines | RK900

✦ Sixty | RK800-60 ❤︎

✧ Hank Anderson

✦ Gavin Reed ❤︎

✧ Tina Chen

✦ Chris Miller

✧ Daniel | PL600

✦ Kara | AX400

✧ Luther | TR400

✦ Ralph | WR600

✧ Jerry | EM400

✦ Markus | RK200 ❤︎

✧ Simon | PL600

✦ North | WR400

✧ Josh | PJ500

Good Omens

✦ Aziraphale

✧ Crowley

✦ Gabriel

✧ Beelzebub

✦ Anathema Device

Gotham

✦ Jim Gordon

✧ Harvey Bullock

✦ Harvey Dent

✧ Lucius Fox

✦ Leslie “Lee” Thompkins ❤︎

✧ Bruce Wayne (Season 5)

✦ Selina Kyle (Seasons 4-5)

✧ Ivy Pepper (Seasons 3-5)

✦ Barbara Kean

✧ Tabitha Galavan

✦ Butch Gilzean

✧ Fish Mooney

✦ Oswald Cobblepot

✧ Edward Nygma/The Riddler ❤︎

✦ Sofia Falcone

✧ Victor Zsasz ❤︎

✦ Jerome Valeska

✧ Jeremiah Valeska

✦ Jervis Tetch

✧ Victor Fries

✦ Bridgit Pike

Interview With The Vampire (2022)

✦ Louis de Pointe du Lac

✧ Lestat de Lioncourt

✦ Daniel Molloy

✧ Claudia

✦ Armand

iZombie

✦ Olivia “Liv” Moore

✧ Lowell Tracy

✦ Ravi Chakrabarti ❤︎

✧ Clive Babineaux

✦ Dallas Anne “Dale” Bozzio

✧ Major Lillywhite ❤︎

✦ Chase Graves ❤︎

✧ Peyton Charles ❤︎

✦ Blaine DeBeers

✧ Don “Don E.” Eberhard

Mayans M.C

✦ Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes

✧ Angel Reyes ❤︎

✦ Obispo “Bishop” Losa ❤︎

✧ Johnny “El Coco” Cruz

✦ Gilberto “Gilly” Lopez

✧ Michael “Riz” Ariza

✦ Guero

✧ Bottles ❤︎

✦ Miguel Galindo

✧ Emily Thomas

Our Flag Means Death

✦ Stede Bonnet

✧ Marry Bonnet

✦ Evelyn Higgins

✧ Edward “Blackbeard/The Kraken” Teach ❤︎

✦ Israel “Izzy” Hands ❤︎

✧ John “Calico Jack” Rackham

✦ Fang

✧ Ivan

✦ Oluwande Boodhari ❤︎

✧ Jim Jimenez

✦ Spanish Jackie

✧ Lucius Spriggs

✦ Black Pete

✧ Frenchie ❤︎

✦ Wee John Feeney

✧ Roach

✦ The Swede

The Fall of the House of Usher

✦ Tamerlane Usher

✧ Victorine LaFourcade

✦ Napoleon “Leo” Usher ❤︎

✧ Camille L’Espanaye

✦ Prospero “Perry” Usher

The Umbrella Academy

✦ Luther Hargreeves

✧ Diego Hargreeves

✦ Lila Pitts

✧ Allison Hargreeves

✦ Ray Chesnut

✧ Klaus Hargreeves

✦ Ben Hargreeves ❤︎

✧ Viktor Hargreeves

Venom (2018)

✦ Eddie Brock

✧ Venom

✦ Anne Weying

✧ Carlton Drake

✦ Dora Skirth

What We Do In The Shadows

✦ Guillermo de La Cruz

✧ Nandor the Relentless

✦ Laszlo Cravensworth ❤︎

✧ Nadja of Antipaxos

✦ Colin Robinson

✧ The Guide

✦ The Djinn ❤︎

✧ Marwa

✦ Sean Rinaldi

✧ Vladislav

✦ Viago Von Heimburg ❤︎

✧ Deacon Brüke

✦ Anton

[marvelgifs]

Venom (2018), dir. Ruben Fleischer

[sarah-the-artiste]

I saw Venom 2 and had an idea.

[blueberry-gh0st]

many benefits to being, marvel memes inspired by @glasssmoothie

[umbra-by-jacqui-natla]

Chapter Seventeen

The inky substance had triumphantly fused with Maria, its tendrils weaving seamlessly into her being. In a matter of moments, she was sequestered away in the isolation chamber, a spectacle for all to behold - particularly Drake, who was eager to witness the symbiotic transformation unfold. Thus far, there had been no signs of any discord between the two entities, and the process continued to progress without a hitch.

Estelle's insides churned with a tumultuous mix of emotions that defied any simple label like "sick." The Life Foundation had left her feeling hollow, like a shell of her former self. The urge to flee was a persistent itch at the back of her mind, a nagging voice that whispered of escape and freedom. But she couldn't abandon Carrie, not again. The memory of their separation still haunted her, a ghostly presence that refused to be exorcised.

It was a strange thing, this guilt that clung to her like a second skin. She knew, rationally, that she had done nothing wrong. She had been a child herself when Carrie was taken, powerless to intervene. And yet, the weight of responsibility bore down on her like a mountain. She should have done more, tried harder, fought back against the forces that tore them apart.

Even the smallest things seemed to carry a burden of guilt. The white bikini she had worn on that fateful day, innocent and carefree, now felt like a symbol of her complicity in the tragedy that followed. The Rain of Stones had been a cruel twist of fate, but Estelle couldn't help but wonder if she had somehow brought it upon them.

So she stayed, trapped in a web of her own making. The Life Foundation loomed over her like a dark cloud, but she couldn't leave Carrie behind. Not again.

Estelle stood in the sterile laboratory, surrounded by a group of white-coated scientists. They had just brought in their latest test subject, a male with rich, chocolate brown skin, a mop of black, fuzzy hair, and piercing dark eyes. He was dressed in the same clinical white clothing as many of the human subjects before him, but his body trembled with a cold shiver as he stepped into the unfamiliar room.

The man stood frozen, his eyes darting around the sterile environment, taking in the harsh fluorescent lights and the rows of gleaming equipment. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt the scientists' eyes on him, studying him like a specimen under a microscope. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound almost deafening in his ears, and he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, as if trying to disappear into nothingness.

He longed to escape from the prying eyes of the scientists, to run away from this place of cold, clinical experimentation. But he knew that he was trapped, a mere lab rat to be poked and prodded, tested and analyzed. And so he stood there, a small, frightened figure in a sea of white coats, hoping against hope that he would survive this latest round of testing.

"Jacob, my friend, fear not," Drake's voice echoed through the sterile room. Jacob's eyes darted around, searching for the source of the comforting words.

"Here, Jacob," Drake called out, gesturing towards the glass partition. Jacob's eyes locked onto Drake's reassuring gaze.

"Jacob, a name steeped in history and tradition," Drake mused, his voice laced with a hint of admiration.

Jacob nodded, his mind wandering back to his mother's stories of the Old Testament.

"Your mother, a woman of faith, I presume?" Drake inquired, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Jacob nodded again, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Drake's voice lowered, his tone taking on a somber note. "Isaac, another man with a Biblical name, just like you."

Estelle's memories of Isaac flooded her mind, the sound of his screams still ringing in her ears.

Drake leaned in, his eyes glinting with ambition. "But first, we must learn from Jacob's story. He was no ordinary man. He was a cunning thief, a polygamist, and a wrestler with God himself. And yet, he was chosen to lead a nation."

Jacob's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.

Drake continued, "We too can be chosen. We can create a new world, a world where we are the masters of our own destiny. A world where we are not bound by the limitations of our bodies or our minds."

Jacob's hand tightened on the glass, his knuckles turning white.

Drake smiled, "Together, we can achieve anything. We can build a new nation, a nation of perfection. And we can call it... Israel 2.0."

Jacob's eyes widened in disbelief, but Drake was already turning away, his mind racing with plans for the future.

Estelle's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more chaotic than the last. The mere suggestion that Drake had made to Jacob was enough to send her spiraling into a frenzy of disbelief. She understood the logic behind it, but the idea of living with a parasitic creature inside of her was too much to bear. How could anyone survive like that? The origins of the creature were unknown, even to those within the Life Foundation. Estelle suspected that even Drake was in the dark, but he didn't seem to care.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit Estelle like a ton of bricks. Her stomach twisted and turned, causing her to double over in pain. She clutched her abdomen, her face contorted in agony. Dora noticed her distress and approached her with concern etched on her face.

"Estelle, are you alright?" Dora whispered, her voice laced with worry.

Estelle remained silent, her mind wandering far from Dora's question. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her like a ton of bricks, causing her to bolt from the room. She sprinted through the lab, shoving aside bewildered scientists in her haste, until she reached the sanctuary of the women's restroom. With a hand clamped over her mouth, she flung open the door and lurched towards the nearest toilet. The sound of her retching echoed off the walls, causing Dora to wince in sympathy.

"Are you okay?" Dora's voice was laced with concern.

Estelle lifted her head, saliva dribbling from her lips. She knelt before the toilet, her hands gripping the seat as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears, and she felt utterly drained.

"I'm fine," she muttered hoarsely, rising to her feet and grabbing a wad of toilet paper to wipe her face.

With a swift and determined motion, she hurled the offending object into the porcelain bowl and pulled the lever, sending it spiraling down into the depths below. As she turned to leave, she was met with the stern gaze of Dora, who stood with her arms crossed by the sink.

"It must have been the chicken sandwich," Estelle muttered, her hand pressed to her stomach in discomfort. She eyed the steel dispenser on the wall, its labels promising protection and peace of mind. "Can you pass me a pad?" she asked, pointing to the machine.

Dora deftly inserted a coin into the dispenser, and a sleek pink package emerged, cradling the solution to Estelle's problem. She handed it over, and Estelle retreated to the bathroom once more. After a moment, she emerged, looking relieved and ready to move on.

"Are you really okay?" Dora inquired, her voice barely above a whisper.

Estelle shook her head as she scrubbed her hands clean. "The whole thing is fucked up," she responded, positioning herself in front of the dryer with her palms outstretched. The warm gusts of air caressed her skin, and the droplets of water cascaded down her fingers. "This whole concept of symbiosis," she exclaimed over the whirring of the dryer. "It's twisted! It's a grotesque advancement, and I want it to end!"

Estelle withdrew her hands from the dryer, wringing them together. Dora gazed at her with deep concern etched on her face.

Estelle's mind raced as she muttered to herself, "There has to be a way to stop this." Dora watched her friend with a heavy heart, knowing that the situation was dire. They needed to find a solution, and fast. But how? Estelle's thoughts were interrupted by Dora's voice, filled with hope.

"Do you remember Dr. Drake's interview with Brock?" Dora asked, her eyes shining with a newfound idea.

Estelle nodded, wiping away a tear. "Yes, he mentioned something strange. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I think he was trying to expose the truth," Dora said, her voice growing stronger. "And I know just the person who can help us."

Estelle's eyes widened as she realized what Dora was suggesting. "Eddie Brock? But how can he help us?"

"He's a journalist, Estelle. He knows how to get to the bottom of things," Dora explained, her excitement growing. "If we can get him to investigate, maybe he can uncover the truth about Drake."

Estelle's mind raced as she considered the idea. It was risky, but it might just work. She smiled, her eyes shining with determination. "Brock moved in six months ago. He's your neighbor! We just need to find him," she added, her voice filled with confidence. "He might be at home, or at the store. We just need to ask around."

Estelle's heart raced as she realized the potential of Dora's plan. It was a long shot, but it might just be their only hope. "Let's do it," she said, her voice filled with determination. "Let's find Eddie Brock and stop Drake once and for all."

Dora let out a deep sigh, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of hope. Just as she was about to give up, a glimmer of possibility crept into her mind. "Maybe we could head to the security room," she suggested, her voice laced with a newfound sense of optimism. "We might be able to find some visual evidence that could help us."

Estelle's arms folded across her chest, her expression skeptical. "That sounds like a risky move," she warned. "How on earth are we going to get in there?"

Dora's mind raced as she tried to come up with a solution. "Donna can help," she said finally, her voice tinged with confidence.

Donna Diego was one of Dora's closest friends. Despite her mysterious past and a history of psychotic episodes, Donna had managed to pass a rigorous background check and become a security guard for the Life Foundation. Her Mexican-Iranian heritage only added to her enigmatic allure.

"She might be on her break," Dora suggested, her mind already racing with the possibilities. With Donna's help, they just might be able to uncover the truth behind the Life Foundation's dark secrets.

Dora and Estelle emerged from the bathroom, their eyes adjusting to the dimly lit break room. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of disinfectant. As they stepped further into the room, the workplace kitchen greeted them with open arms. The small fridge hummed beneath the counter, while a microwave sat perched on top. The sink gleamed, devoid of any dirty dishes. A television hung on the white wall, its screen flickering with the latest news.

Their attention was drawn to a woman sitting on a black chair, her elbows resting on the round black table. She sipped her coffee, her eyes scanning the room. Her beauty was undeniable, with her brunette hair tied in a sleek ponytail and her smooth tan skin. Her brown eyes sparkled with intelligence, and her outfit was as black as the night - a jacket, vest top, jeans, and boots.

"Dora," she said, her voice deep and commanding. "What brings you here?"

"We need to get to the security room," Dora replied, her tone urgent.

Donna clicked her tongue and shook her head. "You know I can't allow people in there unless it's necessary."

"But it is necessary," Estelle interjected.

Donna raised an eyebrow. "Is it now? And what do you want from there?"

"We need information about the symbiosis experiment," Dora explained. "It's been going on for too long, and we want to put a stop to it. We were hoping to find some evidence to bring him down."

Donna's expression softened, and she sighed. "Alright, I'll let you in. But be careful - he's not one to be trifled with."

As they made their way through the throngs of people and labyrinthine hallways, their eyes were peeled for the elusive security room. They strolled nonchalantly, their movements fluid and effortless, until they came upon a nondescript greyish blue door. The word SECURITY was emblazoned in bold white block letters, with a black plaque serving as a backdrop. Donna deftly produced her card and swiped it along the reader, eliciting a satisfying beep. With a gentle push, the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room.

"Five minutes," Donna murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll knock when it's time."

"Okay," Estelle replied, her own voice hushed, as she stepped inside.

"Thank you," Dora chimed in, her gratitude palpable as she followed suit.

The door shut behind them, enveloping them in darkness. For a moment, they stood there, their eyes adjusting to the lack of light. And then, as if by magic, the room sprang to life. Lights flickered on, illuminating the space and revealing a sea of desks, keyboards, and papers strewn about in a haphazard fashion. Pens littered the ground, their presence unnoticed by the harried workers who occupied the space. It was a chaotic mess, but it was their mess, and they were determined to make sense of it.

Dora's gaze was fixed on the multitude of computer screens that adorned the desk. They were diminutive, almost the size of their noggins. The majority of the screens displayed various sections of the edifice, mostly deserted corridors. However, her eyes were drawn to the screenshot of the experiment room.

"Alright," Dora whispered, sauntering towards the computer. "There it is. Perhaps we can unearth something there."

Estelle nodded in concurrence. Dora leaned over the computer and scrutinized the room. Then, she stumbled upon a folder that contained dates, months, and years. Dora clicked on the folder, and a list of dates materialized. Her eyes widened with astonishment.

"Do you recall what date it was?" Estelle inquired, looming over her colleague with a sense of urgency.

Dora furrowed her brow in concentration before responding, "Ah yes, it was the 20th of October. The day the interns joined us. And the field trip."

Estelle's memory was jogged by Dora's words, and she nodded in agreement. With a few swift clicks, Dora brought up the footage from that day. The grainy black and white images flickered to life on the screen, devoid of any sound.

As they watched the events of that day unfold before their eyes, Estelle and Dora strained to make out any discernible details. But the footage was frustratingly vague, offering no clues as to what had transpired.

Just as Estelle was about to give up hope, something caught her eye. "Wait, rewind that," she commanded, her voice rising with excitement. "Look at the door!"

Sure enough, the door to the room in the footage creaked open, revealing a figure shrouded in darkness. As they watched in stunned silence, a young woman with a beanie hat and glasses stepped into the room, her face obscured from view.

Estelle and Dora exchanged a bewildered glance, their minds racing with questions. Who was this mysterious girl, and what was she doing there? The answers remained tantalizingly out of reach, but they knew one thing for sure - this was just the beginning of a thrilling mystery that would keep them on the edge of their seats.

"Did Larry and Fred have their eyes closed?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Dora couldn't help but chuckle at the question.

As they watched the footage, they saw the girl leaving the boxes and the black goo crawling on the glass. Larry and Fred let out a small gasp, but it was too late.

"That bonded to Maria," Estelle pointed out, her eyes fixed on the screen. "How long did Drake have that thing?"

Dora shook her head. "No idea."

The girl in the footage seemed to be having a conversation with the black goo. It was as if they were in a staring contest, trying to outdo each other. Suddenly, a flash popped out, and the goo freaked out, throwing a tantrum. The girl turned around and ran out of the screen.

Dora pressed the reverse button, and the footage started to play backward until it stopped at the girl's face. The footage was crystal clear, and Estelle couldn't help but wonder why the girl looked so familiar.

And then she saw the glasses.

Estelle remembered having glasses like that before she had laser eye surgery. She had even told Carrie about it when she first discovered it while cleaning her bedroom.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and Estelle realized that the girl in the footage was none other than Carrie White.

Dora, always quick with a quip, broke the tense silence. "Do you think she knows Eddie Brock?"

Estelle's mind raced as she tried to come up with a plausible answer. "Maybe," she lied, not wanting to reveal her true thoughts.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Dora quickly snapped a picture of the footage before they both exited the security room. Donna greeted them with a curious look.

"You found what you were looking for?" she asked, sensing their excitement.

Estelle and Dora exchanged a knowing glance before nodding in unison. "Thanks for your help," Dora said, grateful for Donna's assistance.

Donna shrugged nonchalantly. "No problem."

As Donna sauntered away, disappearing into the shadows, Estelle and Dora exchanged a meaningful look.

"So, what's the plan?" Dora inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"You find Brock," Estelle replied, her tone confident. "I'll find the girl."

Dora's brow furrowed in confusion. "But you don't know where she is."

Estelle's lips curled into a sly smile. "Maybe I do. And I did tell you where Brock could be, didn't I?"

Dora's eyes widened in realization. "Yeah, you did."

"Then let's not waste any more time," Estelle declared, her voice resolute. "Let's go."

Link to Chapter Eighteen

[guardiandae]

“Yours” - Chapter 3 (Complete!)

Fandom: Venom (Movie) Pairing: Dora/Agony symbiote Rating: Mature Word Count: 14k total Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Compliant, AU - Canon Divergence, I fixed the movie you're all welcome, Trust Issues, Dora loves her family, Dubious Morality, Eddie and Venom are disasters, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Written for @strozzzi​  but overdue by a couple years, I’d say. So sorry! But I had so much joy writing this!

"Okay, so. Venom is alive," Eddie admits, a bit breathlessly. "But he's -- he's still weak. He can't hurt anyone. And he wouldn't hurt you, Dora. I swear. He just wanted to protect me," he says. His hand is pressed over his collarbone, where Agony's claws had torn his skin open in vicious-looking streaks of red. But there's no red there anymore, only washed-out trails of black shifting across his skin.

"You can't control these… these things, Eddie," Dora says. "Even I can't," she adds, still holding her hands across her body, as if she could physically keep Agony tied to her, even though she already knows that she can't possibly.

"That's not true," he protests. "I mean -- I mean, yeah. I can't force Venom to do whatever I want. But that's just like how you can't force anybody, right? You have to ask. But it's working out okay. We both want the same things. So we're both willing to compromise for that."

"What could you both want?" Dora asks, genuinely doubtful, but the question seems to confuse Eddie for a moment, as if he hadn't even considered that he and his symbiote could be at odds.

"Like… being happy?" Eddie says.  "Fed. Safe. The basics that everybody wants, I guess."

The same things that Agony said she wanted for Dora, too. But it doesn't necessarily mean anything.  "It's just survival, Eddie," Dora says. "These symbiotes need hosts to survive. Of course they'll want us to be safe, so they can be safe. It just happens to be mutually beneficial."

Eddie's brow crinkles up at that, a little line of worry digging into his forehead, but it relaxes fractionally when black goo covers his hand, distracting him. He pats at the symbiote, as if to settle it down again.

"You're wrong. I don't know about the others, but, Venom is different," he says, but it strikes Dora as naive, if not dangerously delusional. Agony might have protected her, even shown some level of care for her wellbeing, but it all ultimately came back to the symbiotes caring about their own survival.

What's so bad about that? Agony questions.

Read on AO3

[agendercas]

inclusivity win! the founder of a corporation run on unethical practices uses gender neutral language when referring to the unidentified person you helped break into the corporation’s facility and escaped with an alien

[humano205]

So nobody is talking about this?

[thelonelymutant]

Rewatched Venom, and Dora Skirth deserved better.

[tomhardysteeth]

You know, I used to be a reporter. I was pretty successful as well, you know, my job, it required me to, you know, follow people that did not want to be followed and hide in plain sight. You have to know how to disappear. I was pretty good, but you - whoever you are, you suck.

[bonniebirddoesgifs]

Bonniebirddoesgifs:

Dora Skirth (Venom) - Credit if using