Better than a holiday meal... fanfic by Fever! 😈
I love it, keep it coming! This should be interesting....
[now back to trying to figure out how many ml/hr you have when the dr. ordered 100 units insulin in 500 ml saline to a 175-lb patient, delivered @10 units/hr with the drop-factor at 60 gtt/minute, but what you have ON HAND is 50 units in 100 ml saline, and then figure out how many micrograms/kilogram/minutes that is. Or whatever. AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
It's a holiday meal AND fanfic. Or it will be- but I'll need some help. Though I've established the setting; I have yet to decide where I'm placing it in Marvel continuity (or even if I am). That's going to determine the rest of the cast. I asked Bad S for some relevant info. When I have all the necessary background, I'll make my decisions and continue the story. I have a nice shock/horror/oh f~ck moment planned for the finale!
Speaking of shock/horror/oh f~ck moments, I hope you managed to pull that paper out of your @ss, Nataku, and that it wasn't too painful. And Nemo, hope you managed not to kill that hypothetical patient (via mistake OR out of frustration)!
[now back to trying to figure out how many ml/hr you have when the dr. ordered 100 units insulin in 500 ml saline to a 175-lb patient, delivered @10 units/hr with the drop-factor at 60 gtt/minute, but what you have ON HAND is 50 units in 100 ml saline, and then figure out how many micrograms/kilogram/minutes that is. Or whatever. AGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!]
I have just visited the general discussion forum. It. Burns. Mine. Eyes.
i have tuned into my british musical heratige oh yeah
I've paid my dues -
Time after time -
I've done my sentence
But committed no crime -
And bad mistakes
I've made a few
I've had my share of sand kicked in my face -
But I've come through
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fighting - till the end -
We are the champions -
We are the champions
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions - of the world -
I've taken my bows
And my curtain calls -
You brought me fame and fortuen and everything that goes with it
-
I thank you all -
But it's been no bed of roses
No pleasure cruise -
I consider it a challenge before the whole human race -
And I ain't gonna lose -
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fighting - till the end -
We are the champions -
We are the champions
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions - of the world -
Buddy you?re a boy make a big noise
Playin? in the street gonna be a big man some day
You got mud on yo? face
You big disgrace
Kickin? your can all over the place
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
Buddy you?re a young man hard man
Shoutin? in the street gonna take on the world some day
You got blood on yo? face
You big disgrace
Wavin? your banner all over the place
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
Buddy you?re an old man poor man
Pleadin? with your eyes gonna make you some peace some day
You got mud on your face
You big disgrace
Somebody better put you back in your place
We will we will rock you
We will we will rock you
Dodged the bullets nicely there, I'd say.
I have a second scene, and another "family" member is headed for Clete's holiday dinner- though this guest doesn't know it yet.
The pavement here was crumbly, soft-surfaced by the ocean’s exhalations. It made a scrunching in place of echoing footsteps.
Eddie walked up the choppy hill, a well-built man, his hands bundled into a lumpy coat. He wore leather work boots, and worn jeans. He decided to change. Going home for the holidays, reconnecting- well, you wanted to look good.
Alone in the white fog, he halted. It tingled in his short hair, on his blank face. It filled his flat gaze. Eddie stopped his lungs so he could listen to the hushed city-sound. Suspending that cycle, that continuous blur of rolling air, Eddie had no fear. He wouldn’t care if one day he stopped, and couldn’t start. You listened better when you let things go. He only breathed now for others’ comfort.
Being dead, Eddie felt comfortable, settled as a stone, collected as water. Yes, water- it was a force. It reformed the world. It had many incarnations. Water was intangible; some of it moved in the Heavens, just as part of Eddie did- now that he had died.
Eddie shaped an image in his mind. Soft khakis, a cotton sweater, something homey…suede shoes, all the textures to satisfy a woman- he looked down at the new clothing. That was good. He looked so comforting, he soothed himself. He looked like a man in a catalog; the manly model they posed by a fireplace, in a comfortable chair. Maybe he had a pipe, a wife, kids, someplace…no, he didn’t. That longing, for a changed history, hurt the partner he did have. Eddie understood that now. They both had unwanted the other in some way. It was time to honor what they had. It was time for Thanksgiving.
He walked a bit, coming to a street sign. Eddie tipped back his head. He understood the letters- W, for water. A, for appetite. T, for thanks. E, for Eddie! R, for rebirth… They wouldn’t come together for him. He asked the alien to read it for him. Oh, Water. Who could have known? Well, anyone who hadn’t damaged his language centers in a suicide…
It would be good, he thought, if we could do something for my face. Eddie touched it. Firm, warm, it had a basic tone- but he wanted more. He wanted to smile. He wanted that part of his head working.
“Yes,” He spoke softly, “I know I’m impatient…you’re not one to talk. Once, I fed your hunger. I came to you, made your appetite my responsibility- though you had left me. You told me you would do the same for me, now. Work on my hunger, now that we’ve…found the solution to yours.”
He listened. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have done it if I was in my right mind…and I was out of my right mind, while you were out of yours! Look, I’m not pushing- I don’t want to- I’m telling you to…well, let me be sad. I have lost something. It’s not our doing. It won’t be our undoing. We can’t be undone. It killed us, the fighting, and the fact that we held back our full commitment- but I am with you completely now. And, yes, you’ve done so well, bringing me back. I know, it took time to wake me, and it will take time to make me well.”
He sighed. “Yes, Thanksgiving. Old comrades, and what was our home when we were closest, when we were at our high point- I won’t be sad; it’s going to be…good.”
Eddie let the alien stop absorbing oxygen for him. He let it simply rest on him in the form of warm, comforting clothing. Together, they worked at being thankful.
Eddie began, with an inhale and a step forward, to follow the right path, the road back to home.
SO, what do you all think?
NOW, I don't know what Marvel is planning with Eddie's suicide attempt, but I have heard that V vs. C is set one year after current continuity. Venom is active in that series, but Brock isn't- however, it's my suspicion that Eddie's body, in a vegetative state, is what "Venom" is riding. So, I've set my story one year or so after that, with Eddie recovering quite a bit of function, and the symbiote, no longer in a family way, ready to get over Spidey and make its peace with Eddie.
Do you like the idea, and how I'm handling it? Too much dialogue, clumsy exposition? Anything can be/should be cut? Any feedback would be good- this is not beta-read, so you guys are my editors! Also, correct continuity errors if my knowledge is incorrect somehow. I haven't read the current Venom archs, just other fans' summaries. Thanks much.
OK, here's more.
WARNING- the following is CHOCK FULL of gore. Don't read it if you don't want to! Robo, Paola, let me know if I've overstepped the limits of the permisable...
A Carnage Thanksgiving- Part III
Beck braced one hand on the counter, hoping she wouldn’t lose a finger for halting in her work. Her head swam with the choking funk of blood. Hot air and cold air blustered in conflict at the center of the kitchen, ruffling her hair, stunning her skin.
She had begun the day working on the behalf of the hungry homeless. Now she was working for two ravenous monsters- bloodthirsty members of the Symbiote species.
The aliens had human hosts, now covered in the fluid, squirming flesh of the symbiotes. One was Cletus Kasady, a mass murderer. The other was a silent, tall woman. Red hair, sick minds- they could be siblings. Today they were playing the parts.
Beck heard Abby whimpering, but she had her own troubles.
The female Symbiote was escorting Beck- stalking her, playing at her fear. It relished the horror Beck had for its squirming, fondling “hair.” Red and yellow tentacles brushed Beck’s body, flying into her face without warning, sometimes tugging at her, pinching her flesh. When Beck jumped, the Female laughed in a panting, cat-like chuffing, high-toned and low-pitched at once.
Beck couldn’t stand to look at Abby, anyway. She couldn’t help the young worker; and she was more aware of Abby’s pain than she wanted to be. Beck thought she had to let Abby fall to the monsters…life had…the world had…why not Beck, too? Nothing for Abby to thank God for, today. Beck wondered if they should want to survive.
The others were dead, and it was the hearts of those corpses that Abby was chopping for the basting broth. It bubbled rapidly on the long range-top, aromatic as a baking ham.
The walk-in cooler’s door hissed on its hinges, batted open regularly as Carnage, the male symbiote, bustled in and out. He carried hideous things. He ranted about how his Thanksgiving will be better than Martha Stewart’s. Apparently he saw her holiday special on the Food Network, and now his insane mind was fascinated by liver pate and blood pudding. He was harvesting what he thought should be the substance of those dishes, and assigning the work to Beck. She doesn’t know what blood pudding is…but she was hoping this mix of diced bread and…and…human blood, would satisfy Carnage.
Mostly Beck looked at the freckles on her own hands. She couldn’t help but wonder how long they would be attached to her.
She supposed Abby had saved her life by confiding in Carnage- by telling him Beck’s past connection to one Edward Brock.
She shook in animal terror as Carnage walked up to her, his body squirming with scarlet and black tentacles. He slapped a heavy, bloody bucket on the table. He smiled at her with his florid pink mouth open, edged in long black fangs. His voice rolled out like a snake that twitched convulsively- a demented sing-song.
“How’s that pudding coming along, Mom?”
He was wearing her “kiss the cook” apron, but he expected her to do the cooking- she was a woman. In his ****ed-up mind, she was his mother, simply for having once loved his “father,” Eddie Brock.
Eddie, the human host of the first alien symbiote- if only she had scorned him for a monster. No, she had to be understanding; she had to look for the humanity in him. Good call. Hurrah for womanly compassion. Look what it got you- the happy family you had hoped for. Ah, “mother” and fulfilled “wife” at last. Thanks, Eddie. When you called, saying you’d be by for the holiday, why didn’t you mention the rest of the family would be coming? Didn’t you know? You should have, you bastard. Fantastic work at safe-guarding my innocence.
She can’t say a word to Carnage. She only begins sobbing when she opens her mouth.
“Fantastic!” He says, as if she has spoken the language of horror with informative fluency. “Don’t you let me get in the way!”
He dashes a tentacle into the huge metal bowl that she is stirring. He wipes the scarlet rope in his mouth. “Mmmm. Now that’s a blood pudding!”
In a cocky way, he walks up to the female symbiote. “Hey, "Sister," how about you and me enrich our relationship? Incest is best…put your big, big brother to the test!”
The female pulled her yellow and red mane of tentacles close to her body, covering the full curving form. “Maybe when we’re the last people on Earth…go on killing, Handsome, and we’ll see what happens…”
Carnage snarls. “Fine, I can do that. Just a reminder- life is short, so don’t save the best for last…think about it.”
He rushes at Abby.
Beck shuts her eyes. She covers her ears. Behind her, the female symbiote does much the same with her “hair,” receding into it.