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saturnzskyzz · 3 months ago

Text

𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎

Word count: 2,009

Warning: Mature audiences only, you have been warned | inappropriate jokes and comments (you know how deadpool is) this is just fiction

𝙰/𝙽: 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍?? 𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁!! 𝙰𝙰𝙰��𝙷𝙷!!! 𝙸𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚠��𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚘.. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 😟. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚗-𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌!! 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜, 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!! 𝙴𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝙿 𝙶𝙰𝙽𝙶!!!

Summary: Wade drags Logan along to a very long car ride followed to be his personal Uber, and best friend, to visit new Mexico for a week. Upon reading articles on the Google home page-wade- he realizes that a certain individual looks familiar from an article he read one time. So, he strikes a very interesting conversation with said individual, and finds something quite interesting and intriguing!

Divider credits

The sound of a new Honda Civic driving on an empty road could be thought of as two heroes sitting in the front seats of the driving vehicle. With the passenger jamming out to the music, and the driver peacefully in his thoughts while concentrating on the road; It was truly a cinematic experience if the two had thought about this exact moment in third person.

"Ow! Would you be mindful of where you're playing your imaginary drum set, bub?" As if the sound didn't come from Hugh Jackman himself, Logan Howlett was shown in third person, forgetting the whole "cinematic third person view" with the Honda Civic, which was what Wade- who hit the victim- had thought about.

"Oopsie daisy! It's like these drumsticks have a mind of its own, huh?" Wade huffed out a breath as he continued to slam his hands in the air to play what was heard on the radio.

Logan nodded his head disapprovingly like a father, and just continued on with the road. The peace continues.

It's not everyday that they have these peaceful drives like this. Other than when they were having to drive to where the facility of where their timelines were controlled and kept under surveillance as to not be disturbed by any high powerful GOD. Yeah, that may be pushing it. Anyway, The point is that Wade and Logan, though the claw handling mortal didn't want to admit it, they were glad they had this long drive again. The beauty of nature was an A+.

"You need to tell them why we're on the road, silly!" Wade blurted out as he was now turned, facing the back seats like he was talking to passengers.

"The fuck is you lookin' at back there, Wade?" Logan questioned, yet not really wanting to know the reason since he's trying to drive to- Oh,, right!

The reason why they were on the road is because Wade decided it would be a lovely idea to have the two take a break from their old apartment, and take a vacation over to New Mexico!

The beaches there looked lovely from the Google pictures Wade had pulled up once, just once, so that was all the good reason as to why he wanted to drive there.. Or, to sit there. He made Logan drive.

"Damn right I did!" Wade blurted out yet again, causing Logan to almost jump in his seat, but luckily for his own embarrassment, he only flinched. "Bub, what the fuck are you saying right now?" Logan asked, getting annoyed with him now.

"Oh, sorry peanut! Just reacting to this fic that's currently being typed up. Anyways, nice driving skills by the way! Saturn made sure to bring up the fact that I'm the passenger princess." Wade confidently said, pulling down the sunshade to look at himself in the mirror for some extra dramatics.

Logan glanced at him before looking back at the road in utter confusion. "Wade, you practically forced me to drive, you're not a,, Passenger- whatever you just fuckin' spurred up in your little head. And by the way, I don't trust you behind the wheel."

Wade did a dramatic gasp by that, clutching his imaginary pearls, he whipped his head to look at Logan with almost daggers for eyes. "How dare you not trust me! I am a veeeery trustworthy person, as a matter of fact."

Logan gave Wade a very interesting "oh yeah?" as to let the younger know he's allowed to rant.

"Yes, "oh yeah?"! I am such an oh yeah, trustworthy person: Yukio once left me alone in the X-Men building for half an hour to come back to the place all spiff and span! Not only that, Colossus let me hold one of his very expensive vases all because I wanted to look at it. He let me HOLD IT while looking at it, isn't that a whole lot of trust thrown into one basket?"

Logan chuckled at that. "First off, the only reason she came back to the X-Men building to a very clean interior is because you had trashed it before she even came back. And I don't mean a little trash; you had the whole place covered with things on the ground, broken, and even the walls looked terrible in the pictures you sent me. You had Colossus' help as well as mine and somehow blind Al's help to clean up the entire place in under 15 minutes- which you got scolded for by Colossus afterwards. And for the record, Yukio came back after 30 minutes because she was supposed to be gone for 2 hours helping her girlfriend with whatever they were doing, but I told her about the mess."

Again, Wade had gasped by the betrayal. He was going to bark back in retaliation but Logan had cut him off.

"I'm not done, bub. for the vase, I found that ugly thing in the trash two weeks after the fact that you had had a small obsession with it; which tell me Wade, why was it in the trash all broken up in various sizes of pieces?" Logan asked with a smug look on his face meaning "gotcha" which knowingly pissed Wade off.

"The only reason it was broken in the trash is because Mary Puppins knocked it over when she visited the place with me one morning. Colossus somehow doesn't know about that yet." Wade explained defeatedly. He crossed his arms to emphasize his defeat and frustration.

"No. He knows." Logan corrected. Still with that fucking smug look on his face, like who is this guy?

"How does he know?!" Wade looked at him in shock, desperately waiting for an answer.

"Cuz I told him, you wuss puss."

Damn, was that a jaw to the ground in betrayal². "You mother fucking, cock sucking, animal hating, snitch bitch!" Wade couldn't believe it. Like seriously, who snitches on their best friends?!

"Another thing, those examples were not what I was looking for. I said trustworthy in driving, not just whatever popped into that small skull of yours you call a brain." Logan emphasized that with a finger to Wade's temple, pushing at his head slightly to get his comedic relief friend to be even more ticked off.

"I can't believe you.. How do you go and snitch on your best friend? I'm your homeboy- we're like this!" Wade stuttered out as he crossed his pointer and middle finger to shove it in Logan's face.

"Wade, you're not my- get your hand out of my face, I'm driving here!" Logan said quickly, as he pushed at the offending hand that butted in his personal space.

"What were you gonna say, sweet cheeks? Were you gonna say that I'm not your best friend?" Wade looked at Logan all sad now.

"No, that's not what I.. Friend is a stretch in itself, pal. I appreciate the offer of me moving in with you and Al, but it's been a few years. you know..? Give it some time." Logan explained the best he could. As embarrassing as he worded it, which most likely ruined a bit of his ego, but he had trust issues.

"Just like the author said, you have trust issues, peanut." Wade said in a not-so-sad tone now. He went for crossing his arms again and looked out the window this time.

The car goes silent for a moment, much to Logan's relief since he's driving, and because he wanted to ignore his comment. They got a little over an hour left before getting into New Mexico, so hopefully the car ride ends up being dead silent until then.

. . .

"So about you not trusting my driving-" Wade was about to go on another unimportant rant before he got smacked over the mouth.

"Not. A. Word." Logan said carefully, never once keeping his eyes off the road again.

Wade had wanted to bite back with a sexual comment, but decided not to as he quite wanted his mouth open and not stapled. Yes, his mouth was stapled shut by Logan before.

. . .

Eh, on second thought.

"I'll have you know that my driving skills are immaculate!" Wade said through muffled lips.

"Oh yeah? Then take the fuckin' wheel." Logan said, letting go of the wheel as he was turning. This caused Wade to panic, and roughly took the wheel to make a sharp turn, almost hitting a tree when by passing, but successfully missed it by a smidge.

"What the fuck?!" Wade shouted, looking at Logan then quickly retreating his eyes back on the road.

Logan crossed his arms this time, pulling off his smug face as he looked down at Wade. "We almost hit that tree back there."

"Oh, you think?! You decided to let your masculinity be free while I'm over here trying to not get hit- by the way, it's very hard keeping an eye on the road while in this position.. You sure you didn't just do this because you wanted me to take a whiff of your dick? Because it smells atrocious, you should shower when we get to New Mexico."

Logan uncrossed his arms at that comment and violently pushed Wade out of the way so he could continue on with driving. "Nope. You're way too anxious, and you don't fully concentrate while driving: Remember that one time you drove into town and almost swerved into a pole all because a bird hit your side of the window?"

Wade chuckled at the memory even if it wasn't the best thing to ever happen. "Look, I get jumpy when I'm not expecting things like birds when driving. It's the animal's fault for bumping into my window. Honestly, if I had hit that pole, it should be that fuck ass pigeon who would pay for our expenses." Wade argued.

"Yeah, like that's a possibility. Don't forget the time you looked at a building for more than 5 seconds causing us to pass a red light." Logan said with a growl. That memory still pissed the Wolverine off.

"Oh yeah, ha! How could I forget you being generous to me for once?" Wade awed at the memory.

Logan was not pleased by that answer. "I had to pay for your ticket so then Al wouldn't have had to pay for it herself. I didn't do it for you, I did it for her. God knows how much money she has left with how much you steal from her. And I'm not talking about the money." Logan pointed at Wade then, almost instantly catching him pulling out a small bag of white powder with letters written on it.

"Wade.. Don't fuckin' tell me you stole her cocaine again?! As soon as I say something about you stealing, you just casually pull it out?!" Logan shouted.

"I can casually pull out something else if you really want me to." When Wade looked at Logan expecting an annoyed comment, all that Logan did was look at him with disgust. "Look, I only pulled this out to gain a reaction from you for the viewers who's reading right now. Hey viewers!" Wade turned to face the back seat once again. This caused Logan to look back twice, only to be met with empty seats.

"Jesus- Wade, you make no sense whatsoever whenever I'm with you. It drives me insane sometimes." Logan breathed out, exhausted by all the talking suddenly. (Ahh, don't you just love a social battery?)

Wade looked at Logan and then out the car window to see a sign that says "Welcome to New Mexico!"

"Hey look! We made it, honey. Time to go visit the kids, huh?" Wade said excitedly, earning a scoff from Logan.

Once again, Wade is picturing the car in third person view, as he imagines the car drifting away from the camera, as the welcome sign appears in front. After a while, the screen will start to fade and soon it all goes black, waiting for a new chapter to come.

"This is going to be a fun vacation."

#non tickles #deadpool and wolverine #Deadpool 3 #Venom #Crossover fic #writers of tumblr #wade wilson #logan howlett #eddie brock #marvle fic #Marvel #Fiction #Story

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asheurbanipal · 3 months ago

Text

Larger Rules Even You Must Follow

Next>>

Venom, Eddie x Venom, symbrock

Explicit

7k words

Content: mention of suicidal ideation, angst, reunion, minor gun violence, tentacle masturbation

Ep 1 in series

On Ao3

Summary:

It's been six months since...well...since the voice stopped altogether. Life was supposed to be normal again. He's working as a reporter again! It's fine! Except there's some kind of new, mysterious figure climbing across the roof's of New York. Good thing the multiverse opens the door for those we think are gone to get...a second chance.

Notes on continuity:

Fun fact, I know the Venom comic canon backward and forward, intimately. However, the movieverse doesn't follow comic canon and technically wraps itself up with Madame Web and Morbius. And while I want to include facts and characterization from the comic canon, the movie continuity seems like more fun to write in with more spaces to write into. What the FUCK is a boi to do?

My solution? Well? Fuck it, multiverse.

Which means I also had to watch Madame Web and Morbius. These movies aren't nearly as bad as people say they are.

Eddie laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. It was too quiet. He scrambled for the remote and turned it on to General Hospital. Too quiet. He used another remote to turn on the window AC unit, turning the fan all the way up. Too quiet. If he turned on the radio, too, the downstairs neighbors would complain again.

That was fair, honestly. She was a work-from-home mom with three kids under five. She didn't need him making her life harder.

eddie

He rolled off the couch and hopped a few times, shaking the auditory shadow from inside his ears. He shuffled over to the office/exercise area he had set up in his dining space. He didn't touch the free weights, instead dropping to the chair in front of his laptop. Then he looked at the dumbbells. Then the computer.

"Ten reps. Just ten reps of ten." Once he actually started, though, he rolled into a proper, basic, low weight arm routine. Nothing fancy. Nothing hard. Just something to keep his body moving so his brain wouldn't catch up.

Before Ve-...before he wasn't really the dedicated exercising type. Living in walkable cities kept him fit enough for what he needed to do on the daily. When he met…when he had the other, though, he learned quickly he was not in any kind of shape to handle the things his body demanded of him. Yeah, he wasn't necessarily doing most of the heavy lifting, but he could feel it afterward. Punching through walls still hurt even when the force was distributed by black goo around his wrist and arm. Even a basic weightlifting routine had helped him get out of bed every morning without feeling like a robot.

He had fallen out of the habit over the last six months. Since…

He was determined to get back into it, though. Something to make it easier to deal with…

"Fuck, I'm crying again." He dropped into the computer chair and swiped his hands across his eyes. It kept happening. He didn't even feel some specific swell of emotion, just suddenly his eyes were welling up. He had convinced everyone in the office that he just had the worst allergies known to man and they appeared at extremely inopportune times.

Speaking of, a Teams alert went off on his laptop. He didn't have a dedicated desk, one of the hybrid reporters, but there was a last minute meeting. They wanted him at the office.

He slammed the lid of the computer closed. Good. Fine. Anything to get out of this apartment where only shit feelings lived.

Grief was supposed to get easier with time. That's what the book said.

It better start working soon.

The problem was that it came in waves. Through the weeks after, through moving back to New York, through settling into a shitty one-bedroom apartment, through all the little things he needed to do to get his life back on track, he had been fine. Sad, but fine. Distant from everything but fine.

It was after that. After he found a routine again. After life started looking normal.

That's when the weight of the loss hit.

No one to talk to as he drifted off to sleep. No one to make half of breakfast poorly. Yeah, he hadn't eaten a head in half a year, but was that worth it? Really?

He had made it from his apartment, to the subway, then down a few blocks to the building of the Daily Globe , all without really thinking about what he was doing.

"Thanks for making it Brock." Barney Bushkin was a weird guy. Fat bald. A man caught in the middle of a different time. The Globe was on the downswing, falling apart against its rivals that had better been able to adapt to an all-digital world.

But they were willing to take them--him back.

They probably needed him more than he needed them. The Eddie Brock byline was facing another Renaissance after internet conspiracy had (mostly correctly) decided he was the victim of some alphabet agency black op. If he kept his head down, he could ride it into a book deal of some sort.

What the fuck would he actually write about, though?

Bushkin led him into one of the small conference rooms with the handful of other managing editors for sections of the website and paper. Eddie shouldn't technically be there. He was a team of one, covering obscure crimes and tracking down the seeds of high-level corporate espionage. No one else wanted to touch his niche, so he had no one to report to but Bushkin himself. It was nice to have a long lead, but that also meant if something went sideways, he was the only one carrying the weight. Again.

Bushkin closed the door and dropped the blinds.

"This is an in-person meeting because I don't want any of this in writing." He dropped a manila file on the table and opened it up to a few 8 x 10s. It was some guy in red, swinging on some kind of thin rope between skyscrapers. The pictures got picked up and passed around the room.

"These came in anonymously, and I got a call from Jameson at the Bugle and a few other places that they got the same. Now this combined with some weird street crime patterns lately means we've come to a bit of a truce. We're all gonna hold back until we have more information. Not just gonna run any random old picture. We're gonna at least pretend we're journalists. Because honestly? None of us know what the hell this is, and no one wants to look stupid. Doesn't mean we can't get the scoop, though."

The pictures made it to Eddie, and he flipped through them. Something pinged a memory deep down that shot an arrow of unease through him. Action shots were blurry, a red and blue figure hurtling through the sky. A nighttime candid from inside the crown of the Statue of Liberty when it was absolutely closed to the public. He sent them along to the next person.

Bushkin nodded to a young woman with pink hair. One of the designated "younger generation" that every paper needed and he had been at one time.

"Lee, is this enough to figure out how and where these were printed? Get us something to work back from?"

"I've got an ink analysis guy," she assured, and that was enough, for now.

"Okay, everyone else, I want you on your toes, looking into this, but I don't want you dropping off your main stories. We've still got a paper to keep running."

Bushkin answered a round of questions, then everyone was released out of the office.

"Brock." Except one.

Bushkin waited for everyone else to filter out before leaning into Eddie.

"Is this the kind of thing you might know something about?"

Bushkin knew Something. Eddie didn't know how or what or any actual useful details that would help him navigate this conversation, but Bushkin had some kind of information that other people didn't. And he had figured out Eddie did, too.

"Nothing from me." Eddie had gotten good at failing to commit to anything specific. In more ways than one.

"You sure? Maybe, you find something no one else would think to look for?"

Eddie sighed.

"Barney, you don't want it to be something I know about. Because I won't be able to give you that scoop without being put in a wooden crate and stored at the back of a warehouse. Are you getting me?" This was the first time he had been this direct about the situation, and it was still skimming around the outside. But Bushkin nodded.

"Then I'll just ask you to use your unique experience and keep an eye out."

"I can do that." He gestured vaguely toward the door. "We good?"

Bushkin flicked his head in dismissal.

"Hey, Yousef, can I ask you about something?"

Eddie slid into the bodega at the corner by his apartment and headed straight back for a six pack. By the time he made it to the counter he had a bag of chips and a chocolate bar. He didn't remember grabbing the chocolate bar. For a half second he stared at the shelf, considering whether to put it back. Then Soup the calico nudged his hand from her station on the counter, and he focused his attention on petting her, instead.

eddie, kitty

"Stop it," he muttered to himself.

"What are you yelling at me about, boss?" Yousef emerged from the backroom. He was probably only a few years older than Eddie, but he'd been in the city his whole life. Street level.

"Do you remember something maybe…fifteen years? About some dude in, like, I don't know…a unitard chasing people around the city?"

Yousef stared at him with narrowed eyes, thinking.

It had struck him while he was dredging through crime reports looking for possible clues or information, a sort of weird nag of information in the back of his head. He had been a dumb college kid at the time, though, still pretending he was hot shit out in the suburbs. He was too disconnected from things happening in the city. The general internet had shit-all, and if the crime beat archives at the Globe ever had anything, it was gone now.

Suspiciously gone, honestly.

But people don't forget so easily.

"Yeah…yeah." Yousef knocked his knuckles on the counter then started ringing up Eddie's purchases. "Some fucking asshole in black pajamas blew up a taxi then went chasing an ambulance through Queens. News said they were shooting a music video and the pyrotechnics malfunctioned. Never believed it for a second."

Yousef looked at him sideways.

"Big shot reporter asking makes me think I'm right."

Eddie leaned across the counter conspiratorially.

"Not that you heard it from me. But if you happen to see or hear anything else about a man running around in a onesie, I would appreciate the notice."

Yousef tapped the side of his nose that he understood.

Eddie sat on a crate on the fire escape pretending it was a balcony drinking a beer and doom-scrolling on his laptop. The city was noisy. Bright. A lot of extra-sensory information in the background to keep the soft parts of his brain occupied.

eddie

He tossed the echo of a sound out of his head and chugged down the last half of his beer in one gulp. His thumb hovered over the trackpad. He told himself he would stop doing this, but the urge kept rising up.

His fingers found the keystrokes before he realized he was doing it. "Life Foundation rocket" "Carlton Drake" "San Francisco church" "Cletus Kasady" "Nevada aliens" Then a collection of additional keywords and searches laying out the major events of the most eventful year of his life. True to the word of the US military, there was nothing that could incriminate him beyond being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Carlton Drake had died in a rocket launch failure. The Life Foundation had been shut down, at least temporarily, for unknown disclosed FDA-related reasons. Cletus Kasady had orchestrated a prison break with a homemade explosive and burned down a church. Which, by the way, Eddie Brock had nothing to do with upon further investigation. It was a misunderstanding based on the raving declarations of a now-dead serial killer.

And, of course, there was an absolute glut of conversation about aliens at the old Area 51 site. Some of it was eerily accurate, but it all lived on forums and subreddits and Discord servers and old-school IRC channels that didn't exactly hold themselves to a high burden of proof.

"Goddamnit, Martin," he muttered. Once he had figured out his handle, it was easy to track him across every site. "They're gonna come get you if you're not careful." But the Martins of the world helped keep the secret. Cover the truth with loud absurdity. He glanced through the window at a manilla folder on his desk. Inside were photocopies he'd secretly made of the weirdo in red and blue. He wiped away a mysterious stray tear.

"I swear to god, if all the politicians end up being lizard people, I'm gonna be so pissed."

eddie

He sat up in bed, the fabric of his blanket agony against the gooseflesh of his skin.

"Stop it." He pressed his palms to his ears and growled into the empty room. "Stop talking to me like this. Just…be dead…I can't…I can't keep doing this."

I'm sorry, Eddie. Do you want me to go?

He froze, hands still over his ears. It was real. It was real and it was inside his head. This wasn't possible. He had watched the symbiote melt in a rain of acid. Felt the connection sever. Felt the silence descend and expand through his body until the only thing left was himself.

"Buddy?" Eddie searched the room, crawling to the end of his twin bed. "Buddy, are you there?" The tears came hot, pouring down his cheek, dripping down over his chin and jaw. "If you're actually here, you need to fucking talk to me. I can't…I can't do this."

Can I come into you Eddie? I want it to be better this time.

"Yes, please oh my god." He held out his hands, unsure where to aim them. Part of the pitch black darkness of his room reached out and touched his fingertips. It crawled up his arm, circling his chest, his neck, his face. Then it settled down under his skin. A sea of bubbles spread between his fat and muscle, popping in quick succession until he was floating in his own skin. He focused on the sensation of the symbiote--his symbiote--wrapped around his spine. The tendrils curled around his ribs and settled into the spaces between his organs. He felt so heavy. So dense. Mass stacked on mass stacked on mass.

He didn't even realize how much he had missed this. How much he missed the weight .

"So you didn't die or…where have you been this whole time?"

I'm tired, Eddie. Took so long to find you, again. Let me rest then I'll show you.

Eddie moved the conversation to his internal monologue, tripping into the line of thought awkwardly. He had barely mastered it before…well…shit before the alien died.

Yeah okay, buddy. Yeah.

Eddie fell back against the lumpiest set of pillows in existence. Matter raised along his chest, seeping out of his skin and through his undershirt. It formed into the shape of an arm across his sternum, a half-formed hand dropping around to his back.

Is that safe? For you to be out like this?

It's fine. I'll tell you what I learned later.

They sounded so tired. Eddie nodded. Rest. Right. There was a twitch in his arm, and he followed the impulse to pick it up and place it across his stomach. His symbiote's arm moved lower, and their hand intertwined with his, fingers clasping over the back of his hand.

I missed you, Eddie.

I missed you, too, bud.

Eddie was out the minute he closed his eyes, and he had the best goddamn night of sleep in months.

Something in his body was waiting for the symbiote to wake him up when he sensed the sunlight on skin. They didn't.

Eddie forced it himself, blinking his eyes open against the new daylight. It was brighter. Whiter. Like he used to see it. When he tried to move his hand, it was stuck in a death grip of alien matter. His other hand was free and he looked down at his body. He was wrapped in thick bands of matter around his chest and stomach. Thinner stripes coiled around his thigh, and he couldn't tell whether they were curling up the leg or down the waistband of his boxer briefs. Or if they simply erupted from his skin.

He brushed a hand over a band of matter. It was warm. Pulsing. The matter was unmoving, but not still, micro-twitching and breathing under his hand. He ran his fingers along it, trying to find out how it faded back into his body before giving up and giving in to the feeling.

This specific display was new. A strange middle ground between extension of his body and limbs and existing as their own being.

"Hey, are you awake?"

Waiting for you, Eddie.

The bands moved around his body, sinking back into him. Eddie let his symbiote move him out of bed and gently pad across the room to the window. His symbiote emerged from his shoulder.

"You can't see the statue from here, Eddie," they said. They're cadence was still subdued but not as tired as the night before.

"Well, yeah, you can't see it from everywhere. I'll take you down to Battery Park when you're feeling better." He could feel the matter-deep weariness in the other part of him. His other part. His Other. The Other touched the top of their head to Eddie's, knocking their temples together.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Eddie asked.

"While we make some breakfast. You're hungry."

On cue, Eddie's stomach growled in anticipation. The Other sunk back into Eddie's shoulder and let him stay in control as they moved into the kitchen. The other's arms and tendrils hesitated at first, feeling out the new kitchen. Then they moved, slow and deliberate, pulling eggs and milk and bread to their workstation. This wasn't the same frenetic energy that he'd fallen into sync with.

No baking powder, Eddie. Can't make pancakes. A tendril touched Eddie's cheek in apology.

"That's fine. I usually have coffee and nothing for breakfast. So…"

Not good for you, my beloved.

Something tightened around their words, like they had let them slip and fall and tumble without thought. The Other produced a small head to speak again.

"What have you been doing while I was gone?" they asked.

"Nah, you go first. My life is boring without you. You can just pluck the last six months from my brain."

"I'd like to listen to your voice," The Other said quietly. The eggs they had scrambled and thrown in the pan were cooking up perfectly smooth and light and fluffy.

"Ahh. Okay. Well. I'm at the Globe . Bushkin has me looking into these people in spandex tooling around the city. I think I might be onto something, but…I don't know."

He could feel the other's interest pique.

"Are there pictures?"

"Yeah, actually. I'll show them to you…after you tell me where you were and what you've been doing."

The Other slid back into his body with a sigh.

Eat your food.

This time they were forceful, dragging Eddie's body to the high stool on the other side of the kitchen island while they finished and plated the eggs. The other added fresh toast then went searching in the fridge for something. They returned with butter slammed hard on the counter.

I didn't die.

"Obviously," Eddie replied, taking a bite of the best fucking eggs he'd ever eaten.

Shh and listen.

The other thwapped him on the side of the face with a tendril.

A few cells survived and remained here, but my consciousness retreated into the hive. Back beyond the edges of the cage. Then…I don't know.

The Other showed him something. A forever collapsing infinity. An event horizon. Light and heat and time compressed in on him revealing an eventuality at the end of time.

I was nothing. I was everything. I connected to all the different versions of us through space and time.

"Wait, what?" Eddie found himself pausing with the tip of his fork resting on his bottom lip.

The multiverse Eddie. Versions of us over and over and over again. I watched through the eyes of different hosts. Versions of me that weren't bonded to versions of you. I watched you hesitate as you held a gun to the roof of your mouth. I watched you actually pull the trigger a few times.

I saw you angry and sad and riddled with sickness. I saw you fueled by rage, justified and otherwise.

I saw Anne dead.

That stopped them both. Eddie had texted her exactly one time to inform her he was in New York and off the FBI's most wanted list. She congratulated him. From there, he had decided to let her go. She had a life to lead, and he didn't belong in it anymore.

I saw…I saw versions of your life that I don't know how to give you, yet, but I want to. I saw versions of us that…hmmm. I'll have to show you. But not, yet. We're not ready.

The Other slid a tendril across Eddie's chest, dropping over the opposite shoulder.

I was wrong about the Codex…..no….not wrong. I was just missing pieces. Knowledge all caught up in the hive that I knocked loose. Knull knows it now, too. But that means he won't try to kill us again. Not yet, at least.

"What did you find? About the codex?"

The Other made a rumbling sound. Nothing he heard but felt in his stomach.

I can't figure out the words. Can I show you? I'll be gentle.

"Yeah, yeah, go for it." Eddie closed his eyes, waiting for the boil-over of information. It wasn't like the last time The Other had done this, forcing a curling mass of sticky, prickly Stuff down his throat. This was nice and slow and his dumb-ass understood it.

It took more than a single codex to unlock the cage around Knull. It was a collection of codices. And they came together and…and that part he wasn't sure he understood, yet. Something about…connection…to the hive? It must be something symbiotes…klyntar understood innately. He'd get there. It would all come together.

So there are more codexes? It was easier to keep the voice in his head now that he'd slipped into the liminal space of thought.

Yes. Which is super confusing to me, I'm not gonna lie. I know that we have one, but now I'm not so sure how they're made.

Can you go back into the hive thingy?

Not without Knull knowing again. And I don't think I'd find the answer. I think this may be new. Or something so old we've forgotten how it works.

But you're sure Knull won't come after us?

Yes. I'm sure. Not yet.

That "not yet's" scaring me a bit, buddy.

It's fine, beloved.

They did it again, freezing up for half a moment.

If you're done eating, show me the pictures.

He was halfway through a bite of toast when The Other yanked him off the stool and across the room, dropping him at his desk. Symbiote matter dropped over his head, and he found himself looking through The Other's eyes. His hands moved the pictures over into the center of their shared vision. Matter emerged from his fingers to trace the line of action of the blue and red swinging figure.

Spider-Man.

"Whomst the fuck?" Eddie said, the incredulity pushing his voice from his throat. The Other released his face to emerge as a head. They spread the rest of the pictures out.

"There are universes where we never meet, but in all the ones we do, it's because of Spider-Man," the other explained. "Sometimes he finds me on a space station. Sometimes I hitch a ride on a meteor. He becomes my host, but we never truly bond. Not really. He gets tired of me and uses sound to pull me off."

"That's rude," Eddie said.

"You did the same thing with the MRI machine, Eddie."

"Yeah, but not because I was tired of you. I was scared because of the, you know, organ failure."

"And when you kicked me out the second time?"

"You beat me up then left!"

The other vibrated and hummed. A tendril passed over Eddie's cheek.

"I don't want to fight with you. Not now."

"Keep telling me about this Spider-Dude," Eddie said softly.

"After he leaves me, I find you. And we become Venom. This is the only universe where none of that happened. Where he wasn't part of our creation. Maybe because he didn't exist yet."

"I'm not gonna pretend I understand this multiverse shit, but…like…why?"

"Maybe we're simply inevitable."

Venom sat on the edge of the rooftop not doing anything in particular. Just…existing…a black mass against the night and the lights of the city. They pulled another chocolate from the sampler box and threw it back.

Cherry cordial is fucking disgusting.

I don't disagree, but the only other option was vegan.

That's unacceptable.

I know. Fiending for brain?

I'm okay. That probiotic actually took the edge off.

Yeah, I learned a little about bio-chem while you were gone.

Smart man.

It had taken a few days to readjust to being Venom again, all of which he had managed to convince Bushkin he needed to work from home from. He sweetened the deal by strongly implying, without outright lying, that he had information on their mystery masked crusader and was close to tracking them down. The Other expressed some uneasiness but didn't say anything outright.

What do you want to do, Eddie?

Is this not fine for now? Still getting our sea legs back.

No, in the long term. What do we do with ourselves?

Gotta figure out how to deal with the big guy in the cage, but otherwise, I don't know. Been a rough two years, mate. Having a hard time seeing very far into the future.

Well, I've seen a whole bunch of futures, so-

Something disturbed the atmosphere. A twitch in the fabric of reality. Then a scream maybe five blocks over.

LET'S GO EDDIE

They were running across the rooftop before he ever realized he was moving. The wind rushed past their head as they leapt to the neighboring rooftop. The next jump dropped them down the side of the building, claws slamming into the brickwork and slowing them as they dropped downward.

You need to hold back or the military's gonna have our ass.

It won't be the worse thing that happens to us.

That cryptic shit was getting old fast, but it certainly kept piquing his interest. They slipped through a few more alleys and fire escapes, fast enough that no one caught them.

They finally found the source of the scream in a blind courtyard between buildings. A group of four that was almost cliche in their arrangement. Two men in beanies pulled low over their brows were bearing down on a young couple. One had a gun and the other looked like he maybe wished he had a gun, too.

Eat their heads?

Let's stop them first, then cross that bridge when we get to it.

Good enough.

Venom didn't need to be fast, now, heavy doing all the work as they came down hard on the man with the gun. The woman screamed again. How did no one else hear this? These muggers were just some asshole dudes, so landing on him was enough to disable him. The other mugger tried to get away, but a fling of matter around his waist pulled him back to join his friend with another glue of matter.

Venom turned on the victims, keeping his mask in place but pulling back on the teeth a little.

"Are you ok-"

The man had a camera up, filming them, dancing around to get better angles.

"You fucking kidding me?" Venom snatched the phone. This was, again, just some dude, so it was easy. He broke it in half with a quick snap. "You can't fucking film me, dude. What the fuck? You want me to be fucking X-filed? Goddamn think for a fucking minute, dude."

"GUN!" The woman shouted.

Venom turned. They had forgotten about the gun. One of the muggers had been able to wriggle out of the matter enough to reach it. He got one shot off. The kinetic energy pushed him back half a step, but bullets didn't exactly do anything.

" Oh, now we're eating his head."

A soft quick sound -- a thwip -- ricocheted down through the canyon of buildings. Some kind of sticky material, not unlike his own matter, shot down from the rooftop and knocked the gun to the ground, glueing it in place. Venom looked up. At the edge of the roof was a guy in a red and blue one-piece morph suit with bright white eyes. Most of the other details were lost in the distance.

"Spider-Man?"

" Nope!"

And The Other yanked Venom up through the night, dashing across rooftops.

Venom rolled through the window, breaking apart into Eddie again.

"Why did you pull us away? The kid was right there!"

The Other emerged from his shoulder with gnashing teeth.

"No. Not until we understand him better."

"How am I supposed to do that if I don't talk to him, huh?" Eddie fell on the couch, dropping his face into his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We just need to be careful."

"Careful for-" but then Eddie felt it. Fear. Worry. Something that reached back through the Everything. "What does Spider-Man do to us? What have you not told me?"

"When he rejects me, the other versions of me become so…mad. Sorrow. Need. I can still feel it when I look at him. In all the universes I seek out hosts who feel the same about him just to feed the rage. To have a like-minded partner. It's what he does to you, though. That's what scares me."

"He seems like a good dude, I'm sure whatever it was--" but there was that shiver of panic again. The other clicked their teeth and re-merged.

It's a little different every time, but you're working on a story. It's important. It's the break of a lifetime. You're at the top of your game. Then Spider-Man undermines you. Scoops you. Finds the real killer. You lose your job, your credibility. You lose Anne. You lose your mind. Lose your will to live. I find you at your lowest and we bond over our shared hatred.

"Okay, well, you already found me at my lowest. We've been through that. Anne is off being…all…happily ever after with Dan. She's solid. I've got a new job. And I didn't even want to kill myself." The Other knew it was a lie when he said it, and something grazed his brain in consolation.

There had been a few moments in that six month gap between everything going to shit and joining with his other where things grew particularly dark. He had briefly wondered if everything would be better if he stopped existing. Had never existed to begin with.

"I'm just saying we'd be meeting this kid at a totally different time in our lives. And also those other versions of me seem super dramatic. We're chill."

Our hatred of Spider-Man turns us into a monster, Eddie.

"Sweetheart, we're already a monster."

Shut up and listen.

The other slammed him with a punchbowl of emotion. The same things The Other already described. Rage. Sorrow. Agony. All dialed up and tuned in to a level that wanted to pop his limbs at the joints. And at the center of it all the overwhelming desire to completely and totally decimate Spider-Man down to a molecular level.

Okay. Okay. I get it. We'll give the kid some space until we figure it out.

Thank you, beloved.

Eddie threw his head back against the couch.

"I want to ask how I stack up against this…multiverse of other hosts, but I think I might hurt my own feelings."

One version of me attached to a talking raccoon for a short while.

"Wait, is there a way into that universe? That sounds fun as hell."

Nah, those guys were fucking assholes.

"Anything else interesting from the magical symbiote multiverse I should know about?"

Matter rose across Eddie's stomach and started creeping up his chest. It tugged at his shirt and started removing it.

"I hate it when you do this, you know that."

Want to show you something. Take your shirt off.

Eddie tutted but obeyed, pulling it over his head. As soon as he leaned back, another shirt appeared, just like the first.

"Yo, what the fuck?"

The other branched from his shoulder.

"It's a trick I learned," The Other said. The shirt changed from blue to white and the words "FRANKENSTEIN HIMBO" appeared across the chest in block letters. "I've got shirts figured out, but I'm still working on pants. Then I'll figure out jackets. And suits. You look sexy in a suit."

"Ah, man, if you were able to do this in Vegas, we wouldn't have had to knock that one guy out. WAIT?! Can you make other stuff?"

A tendril emerged from the matter to hover over the coffee table. The Other formed a little cube of matter and set it on the table. Once it detached, it lost structure and melted into nothing. The Other reincorporated it back into their matter.

"Other versions of me were able to take on more solid forms on Earth without a host," The Other lamented. "I'm not sure how, yet." The other tilted their head against Eddie's. He reached up and pressed his fingers against their temple, stroking their cheek with his pinky.

"You'll get it. Anything else important?"

"It's all important, Eddie, but there's so much of it. Let me save some for later."

"Okay. That's fair." He pressed The Other's face to his. It was nice. It was one thing to have another voice inside his head, another to experience the physical touch.

The Other's head turned under his hand and pressed further into his cheek. A grazing of teeth ran along his skin.

"I did not miss this little bitey-kissy thing you do," Eddie said, slightly turning his head. "Just commit in one direction-" The Other answered him by kissing him. Actually kissing him.

Lips pressed to his, slithery tongue prying open his mouth and clicking around against his teeth. The fucked up thing was that Eddie let it happen. He let the other form hands to wrap around the back of his head. When his own hands came up, he knew it wasn't the other controlling him, and he hooked them around the back of the other's head. It wasn't until he started trying to work his fingers down a neck and back that didn't exist that he startled himself out of what was happening. The other almost didn't let him draw back, clutching around his neck. Eddie became starkly aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt as the other moved their hands down to his chest.

"We've never done that before," Eddied gasped stupidly.

"Fuck, you're right. Shit. Shit. I forgot we weren't here, yet."

"Have…other versions of us…done this?"

"Other versions of us have done so so many more things, Eddie. Brought you to the height of ecstasy over and over again."

"Okay that's…that's a lot. That's…I have to think about that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry. Goddamnit, ever since you've been back…You weren't like this before."

"Did you prefer me before?"

"No! I mean…yes. I mean…fuck. I mean I don't get what your deal is. Apart from the whole dying and slipping through interdimensional portals yeah…okay. I'm realizing that I've also done that at least once, and it does kinda suck. You don't come back super normal from that."

"No, you do not." The other pushed their head back to create space, but they kept their hands touching Eddie's chest. "I've lived a hundred thousand versions of us, but in all that I've managed to mostly hold on to what is true to our reality. The things we've actually done. While there are other versions of me that despise you and tried to destroy you from the inside out, I can separate that from the Now. From the Us. But all those lifetimes of loving you? That I can't seem to get rid of. That's sticking around, and it's going to make some things more difficult."

"Love?" Eddie choked.

"You didn't believe me the first time, either."

"I didn't think it meant the same thing to you."

"It doesn't mean the same, probably. Klyntar don't have the need to form the sort of social groups that humans do, so the names for those things are different. Doesn't mean it's not important. That it's not strong."

"I didn't say it wasn't. I just don't think I understand. What do you want from me? What does whatever this word mean for you? Feeling a little lost."

The other rubbed their head against Eddie's cheek.

"I can give you the feeling I feel," The Other offered.

"No, that's too weird. I get all hungover when you do that."

"Then I'll show you."

"Show me what?"

But the other slid back into his chest. Tendrils rolled up from his stomach. One flicked at the button and zipper of his jeans, pulling it down. Another tendril slid down and around the bulge covered by his boxer briefs. His body reacted immediately. He couldn't be sure he didn't want it to. This was normal, right? Any red hot American man would react to any kind of stimulus of this nature. Right? Right…

A tendril slipped through the slot of his fly and around his dick which hardened immediately.

"Okay… okay… hold on."

Of course, I'll stop if you want Eddie, but…

"But what?" he choked.

Did you think I just disappeared when you masturbated? I've been here the whole time.

"I spent a great amount of energy not thinking about it, actually."

Eddddiiiee. I know what you like. Let me show you. The voice whined in his head, and The Other's impatience tugged at his spine. But they stopped, their matter pulling back into a mass at the base of his pelvis. Eddie took in a deep breath and sunk back into the shared place in his mind, the little hollow spot where their voices connected.

Okay.

The Other was slower this time, delicate. The Other pulled down the waistband of his briefs then slipped a tendril around his cock, pressing around it softly.

First it was just a ring that settled at the base of his cock, pulsing and squeezing in pattern.Then more matter stretched up from the ring, swirling upward until it covered his entire length. A soft tip of tendril traced along the sensitive head making him jump. The matter was dry but full of undulating pressure, squeezing bottom to top, dragging the sensations out of him by the root.

You think you like it hard, Eddie. You and your deathgrip.

It's how I learned to do it, I guess. Somehow his inner voice was panting more than the hot breaths that emerged from his lips.

I can feel your mind and all the dirty parts of it. What you really like is soft and slow.

With a slow pump, the matter began to move up and down, the inside against his cock moving faster than the layer on the outside. A piece reached down to cup his balls warmly, rolling them ever so gently in the hammock of The Other's hand. More matter emerged from his stomach and crawled up his chest with thin hands.

You like to be touched. Two hands splayed flat on his chest over his pecs, palms pressing into his nipples. Two more hands emergred to run up his neck. To be caressed . The Other's head emerged in a flow from his chest.

"To be kissed." Their mouth fell against his, tongue dipping casually into his mouth. Soft. Hesitant. Testing and tempered. Their teeth nipped at his mouth but didn't puncture. The Other was so rarely like this, treating him so gently. He didn't totally know who was in control of his hands anymore as he lifted them again to the sides of The Other's head, keeping them locked so he didn't drift down and freak himself out again. He focused, instead, on the sensation happening around his mouth., the ever deepening kisses, the fingers digging and scratching at his chest, the quickening movements of The Other on his cock.

A stifled moan rose in his chest, bleeding out around the edges where their mouths touched. The sound didn't stop as The Other moved faster and faster, increasing pressure slowly as the heat burbled in his body. The other clicked into the cavity of his mouth while he grunted and keened, climaxing into the warmth of The Other's matter. At the same time The Other's chirps became growls, pressing harder into Eddie's mouth, swallowing his breath and every other part of him.

The Other's head slunk back into Eddie's body, replacing itself with a tendril that crept around Eddie's head and neck. The Other tucked his now soft and sticky cock back into Eddie's shorts and patted it gently. Eddie leaned back against the couch, panting.

"Uh…did you also…um…"

I feel everything you feel, Eddie.

"So you…okay…okay wow."

Do you need some more time to process that?

"A little yeah, thanks."

We can go to sleep, Eddie. That might help. You're exhausted.

"That is actually a not terrible idea."

Eddie let The Other pull him up from the couch, across the living room to the bedroom. Let them strip him out of his jeans and flop him into bed. The blanket pulled up over his head, and he went out like a light.

Eddie woke to bands shifting around his body. He was on his side and a symbiote head was resting in the curve of his waist. He looked down to find The Other flicking through his phone, half body leaning against his back.

"Don't delete any of my e-mails," Eddie said.

"I'm on Twitter. We might have fucked up last night by smashing that guy's phone."

"Knew that would come back to haunt us, what's happening?" Eddie sat up, the bands shifting to give him space. The Other's half body followed, attaching at his side and head rubbing against his. They brought the phone over.

"Douchebag is all over Twitter saying a 'tentacle monster' attacked him and his girlfriend last night," the other explained.

"Leaving out that we saved him from a mugging, I'm sure."

"Of course. But here's the real fucked up part. A bunch of people got a bunch of photos of Spider-Man last night. So now people are putting those two things together."

"I mean…okay…not totally off, I guess. I feel like that is not gonna go well for this kid. Shit." A weird pulse of emotion shot through his body that he knew was from The Other. "Are you excited about everyone thinking Spider-Man's a bad guy?"

"Remnants of another me."

"Yeah. Alright. Okay. Don't be a loser."

"Takes one to know one," The Other replied. One of their tendrils curled around his shoulder, then ended up flicking through his hair.

"Do we…um…do we talk about what happened last night?" Eddie asked. "Is that a thing that happens? Or are we ignoring it?"

"I have no intention of ignoring it, beloved. I'm just waiting for you to catch up."

"For me to fall in love with you?"

"To realize you already are."

"You're so fucking weird."

The Other pressed their face to his cheek and slid a tendril down his stomach.

"I can show you something real fucking weird, if you want."

A text message on his phone saved him from having to make a decision about consenting, and he took it from the perch of The Other's matter. It was Bushkin asking if he had seen Twitter that morning. He was going to need about fifty lifetimes to figure out how to answer that question. He absently rubbed the surface of one of the tendrils that had dropped over his shoulder then let the tip of it curl around his finger.

"This is my new normal, isn't it?" Eddie sighed.

"Took you long enough." The Other pressed their forehead to his temple. Eddie brushed his fingers over their cheek.

"Sweetheart," Eddie said, really feeling the shape of the word form on his lips, "we have to track down Spider-Man."

"Fuck," the other replied. They sighed. "I guess it's…haaah…"

"Inevitable," Eddie finished.

#symbrock #eddie x venom #venom #fan fiction #venom the last dance

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