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thatonezombiecosplayer · 2 years

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She can’t help but do a quick visual scan of her house as she approaches it. Toast said that Moore and some of his people are in custody, but she’s still just suspicious enough that she’s not going to trust that there’s not still someone out there with a grudge.

The house looks exactly as she left it. No damage that she can see, nothing out of place, no sign of a break-in.

The officer who had picked her up from the hotel, a relative newbie who she hadn’t really worked with much before her injury, seems relaxed enough about the situation. He helps her carry Frank’s carrier from the car and leaves it on the porch as she limps toward the house with her duffel in one hand and Sue’s leash in the other. He asks if she needs anything else, and she tells him no because she can tell the question was more an obligation than any real interest in helping further. He probably has better things he thinks he could be doing than driving her around.

Furiosa glances over her shoulder as he gets back in his patrol car and pulls away from the curb, and then she goes digging for her keys. Sue whines hopefully, tail wagging and nose in the corner of the door. If Frank cares that they’re home, she can’t tell.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Furiosa says to Sue as she gets the key in the door and unlocks it. Sue noses her way in as Furiosa pushes the door open, and Furiosa follows behind her, tossing her duffel carelessly on the floor inside and dropping Sue’s leash rather than dragging the dog back to take it off. She glances around the room, happy to be back home again and taking in the tidiness of the space. But then her eyes catch something that is definitely not supposed to be here, and she freezes for a brief second.

There’s someone standing in her kitchen, his back to her, and Furiosa reaches for her service weapon where she still has it strapped to her leg brace. She clicks the safety off and levels it at the intruder in one quick motion.

“What are you doing in my house?” She says dangerously.

The man also freezes for a moment, then turns toward her, a look of surprise on his own face. He looks at the gun, glances behind him as if to make sure there’s not somebody else in the room she could be aiming at, and then looks slowly back at her.

And then, even more surprising than the fact that he’s simply standing in her kitchen, he sort of… fades. The sharp outline of him blurs for a second, his form darkens, and the counter behind him becomes visible through him. It happens a couple times in a few seconds, and then he’s back to being as solid as a person normally should be. Furiosa immediately lowers the gun.

“...Max?”

She’d seen the vaguely human-shaped shadow of him before, but was never really able to make out much in the way of features, at least not while looking directly at him. He sometimes seemed more visible out of the corner of her eye, but always faded away when she looked toward him. But now he looks real and solid enough that she had mistaken him for a living person.

His appearance isn’t a complete surprise to her, having caught sort-of glimpses of him before, but being able to see him this clearly is still surprising. And a little odd, she realizes, to be only now seeing the face of someone she’s gotten so familiar with. Dag’s past assessment of him as both cute and scruffy flits through Furiosa’s head, and she can’t disagree.

He still looks surprised, and takes a slow step toward her. “Can you… see me?”

The familiar voice coming from the man’s mouth confirms it for Furiosa. That’s definitely Max.

“Yeah,” she answers. “You look… alive.”

Max looks down at his hands. She doesn’t know what they normally look like to him, or if he looks any different to himself now than he usually does, and the crumple of his brow when he looks back up at her doesn’t actually answer any questions. “Pretty sure ‘m still dead,” he answers.

Furiosa doesn’t want to look away, as if he’ll disappear again if she does, but standing here staring at him seems to be making him a little uncomfortable. She glances down long enough to reholster the gun still in her hand, and is relieved to find him still there when she looks back up. He sounds real, he looks real, and she knows he can feel real too, and part of her just wants to confirm to herself that he really is there. She steps toward him as her right hand moves to deftly unstrap her prosthetic arm. She deposits it on the couch on her way past, and reaches carefully toward him with her left arm as she steps up in front of him.

Her hand feels tight with the phantom cramps that seem to always want to take it over these days, but not so tight that she can’t make it open, and she brings it up but stops with her fingers several inches from his face. “Can I…?”

Max barely moves, but his eyes dart over to where her hand would be as she holds it motionless in front of him. His expression is hard to read, but he gives a faint nod. She slowly reaches the rest of the way to him, unable to see her own arm, but she can definitely feel when her fingertips meet his cheek. It’s the same as when he massaged the tension out of her phantom arm: warm and real and alive. Max takes an audible breath, and she can feel muscles move beneath her hand, can feel the prickle of days-old stubble, and the faint vibration that comes with the little sound he makes as she slides her palm against his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, his entire body language relaxing, and Furiosa has to wonder when was the last time he felt anything like this. But she won’t ask. It’s not for her to know. Right now she knows that she can see him and feel him, and it doen’t matter if he’s alive or dead, because he’s here.

“It’s good to see you, Max.”

Continuation of the ghost!Max AU

So apparently we were kind of breaking things with the ridiculous length of the old post. So. New post. Go here to read the fic from the beginning.

Furiosa is interrupted from her work by a knock on the door and a cheerful “Furiosaaa! We brought your favorite!”

Furiosa looks over her shoulder and starts to haul herself off the couch, but Max is already at the door and opens it slowly for her friends, being careful not to accidentally slam it into the wall. He had nearly broken the glass on the sliding back door a while ago when he opened it to throw the ball for Sue one day.

“Thanks, Max,” Dag says cheerfully as she strides inside.

The one Max is pretty sure was introduced to him as Cheedo steps in a little more timidly, her eyes wide. “I swear, that’s so creepy.” Max lets her close the door herself, if him doing it freaks her out so much. He does click the lock shut when she forgets to, though, which may not have been the least creepy thing he could have done, but he’s not about to leave the door unlocked with people who want to kill Furiosa somewhere out there.

Max then floats through the wall to occupy himself elsewhere as Dag unveils three wrapped fast food hamburgers with more flourish than it probably requires. Dag doesn’t seem to mind him lurking around so much anymore, but he knows Cheedo still gets a little freaked out when either Dag or Furiosa talks to him, so he figures he’ll just not provide the opportunity this evening.

He waits until he hears the front door close and the voices are gone, then waits a little longer, until he hears Furiosa shuffle off to bed before he comes out of hiding.

As much as he’d rather have Furiosa in his house than some other trespasser who he’ll probably like less, he keeps finding his mind wandering back to ways he might be able to scare or threaten her out of this house, if only for her own good. He’s pretty short on ideas that would actually work, though. He’d done some pretty awful stuff (intentionally or not) when she had first moved in, and she had certainly not been deterred then, so why would she be any more deterred now that she knows him? He sighs and settles in for yet another long night of nothing but his own thoughts.

Max had never really thought it was lucky that he doesn’t sleep anymore - mostly it’s boring as all hell being awake constantly, and he misses being able to dream, even if the dreams he used to have were bad sometimes - but this night he considers himself lucky.

He’s staring lazily at Sue asleep on her dog bed, feet and nose twitching as she dreams, when a quiet click and rattling catches his attention. It can’t be the cat, he always sleeps in Furiosa’s room these days. Max floats through a wall and toward the noise. He stops in the living room and stares at the front door as the handle jiggles.

Quickly Max goes to the front window and peers out toward the door, trying to see who’s there. Male. White. Twenties. Might be bald, but he can’t tell for the black cap over the guy’s head. Regardless, he looks like the same sort that had tried to break in previously, and Max doesn’t doubt the same sort that tried to crush Furiosa’s car with a truck.

The man moves around to the back door and Max is momentarily frozen in indecision. The deadbolt on the front door is pretty solid; the back door, not so much. Should he go wake up Furiosa, or stay to make sure this guy doesn’t get in?

The guy pries a knife in the door frame, pushing at the measly little latch that keeps the sliding door locked. Max watches the little lever slowly lift, and quickly smashes it back down. The guy grumbles quietly, unaware that that had been anything other than a sticky lock, and tries again. Max flips it closed when he nearly gets it open again.

Truthfully, Max could do this all night, but he figures the man will eventually give up on the door and try to find another way to get in. Probably a more destructive way. He doesn’t know if he can keep stopping him, but he does know that if Furiosa’s awake she can have a good shot at defending herself. He flips the lock closed one more time and rushes through the kitchen wall and straight into Furiosa’s room. He shakes the bed violently for a moment, earning a yowl of surprise from Frank and a string of curses from Furiosa, and then he grabs her service weapon off the night stand, drops it on the bed next to her, and flies back through the walls toward the back door.

He had honestly hoped the could mess with the man some more, keep him out just long enough for Furiosa to get out here and see him, maybe get an ID on him, but as Max comes through the kitchen wall, he sees the man already stepping inside and quietly closing the door behind him. The intruder moves straight toward the stove, where he cranks all four knobs, turning on the gas without letting the burners light, and Max’s eyes widen. Oh no. Nobody blows up his house, especially not with his friend and his dog inside.

He grabs the nearest object, a tea mug sitting next to the sink, and flings it at the intruder’s head. It misses by a few inches and smashes into the wall a good distance past the man, and Max goes for another. This one slams into the guy’s back a moment after he’s jumped and spun toward the sound of the previous mug smashing against the wall, and with a surprised grunt he spins around again to defend himself against his attacker, only to get a third mug right in the face. He stumbles back, dazed but not halted by the hit, and Max rushes forward, focusing only half his mind on making himself solid. He shoves the man back as he passes through him, gritting his teeth against the unpleasant sensation. Judging by the sound Moore’s lackey makes, it wasn’t any more pleasant for him, either.

The guy’s on the floor now at least, and Max goes for the nearest object again - the toaster, not that he’s particularly paying attention at the moment - and lifts it up into the air.

“Max, stop!”

Furiosa’s voice halts him instantly, toaster held high as he looks over to see her standing in the entrance to the kitchen, gun aimed at the man on the floor.

“What did I say about breaking my shit?”

#happy halloween have end of the ghost fic finally #mad max fury road #furiosa #max rockatansy #ghost!max #fic #my fic #long post

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 3 years

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Yaaaas

Mad Max: Fury Road // Back From The Dead Halestorm

#speaking of back from the dead #hi #I just needed to reblog this #mad max fury road #Furiosa

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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Happy Mad Maxiversary

Ride eternal, shiny and chrome, fellow wastelanders.

#mad max fury road #4 years!!!

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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And Slit, just loungin’.

#mad max fury road #slit #dragon

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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A CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE!

#venom #venom 2018 #eddie brock #anne weying #dan lewis

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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youtube

holy shit they did it

#venom #venom 2018 #eddie brock #anne weying #trailer

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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Trash pandas, the both of them.

#venom #venom 2018 #eddie brock

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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Tired™️

inspired by this post, i had to

#venom #venom 2018 #eddie brock

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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#venom #venom 2018

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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For years Max had dreamed of having the house to himself. And it used to be he enjoyed the times between tenants, after he had scared one out and before they managed to sell the house to another.

But now? Now he finds that being alone is actually… not what he wants.

He had gotten so used to Furiosa’s company, had even started really adjusting to the fact that she had no intention of leaving despite him being there, and that was actually not horrible.

It surprises him, to be honest. He had spent so long resenting the living for coming into his space, that the idea of wanting one here feels strange, despite his willingness to admit it to himself.

He keeps himself occupied for a little while thinking about this, about what things could be like if Furiosa stays long-term, and what that means for him. It kind of feels like he could have a chance to almost, almost live again. At least he could pretend, as much as he can. Having someone around who can usually hear him, sometimes sort of see him, and yet doesn’t treat him like that’s all horrible and he shouldn’t be here does remind him of what it was like to be alive. His body may never feel alive again, but with Furiosa’s help, maybe his mind can.

With nobody around, there’s no need to hide in the basement, or up in the rafters of the attic like he usually does when he wants to give Furiosa and her friends some privacy, or just wants to think to himself without distraction. He figures he should stay on the main floor of the house anyway, and keep an eye out for anybody who might come and mess with it.

He roams about, checking windows, making sure things are secure. He floats by the front window and watches carefully for anything suspicious.

He kind of wishes Furiosa had left the TV on for him, but figures maybe it’s better that she didn’t. He might not be able to hear someone trying to break in over the noise of it.

By the second day, he takes to cleaning up the house. In lieu of taking care of Sue, he figures he might as well do something helpful while he waits.

By the third day, he has straightened and tidied just about everything he can find that he figures Furiosa won’t mind that he touches.

By the fourth day, he’s really starting to wonder how he used to do it. How did he spend hours and even days completely alone? How did the silence and the emptiness not drive him crazy?

By the fifth day, he’s getting truly antsy. He’s been keeping an eye outside, waiting for somebody to come and try something, but he hasn’t seen a single soul approach the house, other than postal workers. He wonders if he should have been watching more carefully instead of cleaning up the last few days. Maybe he missed something. Maybe they did something when he wasn’t paying attention.

He flicks a few lights on and off again to check that the electricity is still working. He briefly turns on one of the burners on the stove to make sure the gas line hasn’t been tampered with. And after that, there’s not a lot he can think of to test to make sure the house is safe before Furiosa comes back. He wishes he could go outside to check the perimeter. Instead, he settles by the front window again, and watches cars and people go by, none of them even stopping to look his way.

—

Furiosa’s stay in the hotel is nice enough, if a little boring. Frank is agitated at being in a new place. Sue, as usual, is pretty chill in general, though even after they’ve settled in, she spends some time occasionally wandering around the small area, as if looking for something.

Furiosa keeps the privacy tag outside her door. Part of protective custody means having someone with her if she wants to go anywhere, and that’s annoying more than anything else, so she opts for just staying in, only going as far as the lawn outside when Sue needs to go out.

She watches TV, scrolls through pages on her computer, and tries to give Sue some attention now and then to distract her from just wandering around.

It’s not too different from what she was doing when she was stuck at home, but it feels lonelier. She hadn’t really realized how much she had gotten used to having another person around, always having someone to talk to if she wanted to. Or at least having someone around when he wasn’t busy moping somewhere out of sight.

Moving into a house that had a ghost had never even been something she would have considered as a possibility before, but now that she has, she’s become kind of fond of her dead companion. The last few days have solidified that. The quiet and the loneliness have only made it more clear that really, she does like having him around.

It’s a comforting bonus that he’s willing to keep her - their - house safe, and at least she can relax a bit while she’s here knowing it’s all in good hands. She likes that house and decided a while ago that she didn’t want to move, but she realizes now that Max is as much a part of that decision, if not more, than the house itself.

She doesn’t hear a word from anyone about the case, which she has come to expect, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. She doesn’t hear anything about if anybody’s made an attempt on her home, either, and she just tries to take that to mean that everything on that front is fine.

It has been nearly a week and she thinks she’s going to go crazy with boredom, when her phone rings. She glances at the caller ID, and she snatches the phone up.

“Toast,” she says quickly in greeting, and then immediately tries to tone it down and not sound as desperate for news as she is. “What’s going on?”

“Case is closed,” Toast says simply. “You can go home now. I’ll send someone to pick you up within an hour.”

“Don’t suppose you can tell me how it went,” Furiosa cuts in before Toast gets a chance to end the call.

Toast hesitates, and Furiosa expects she’s going to stand her ground on Furiosa still being off the case, even though it’s done and closed. She hears a small sigh before Toast finally decides to speak. “The same source that tipped us off to another threat coming your way came through with another tip. That combined with the warehouses you suggested was the key. We have Moore in custody, along with a number of his people.”

Furiosa lets out her breath. It’s not as much as she’d like to know, but it’s more than she was actually expecting to get, so she’ll take it.

“Pack your stuff, we’ll send someone soon.” With that, Toast hangs up.

Continuation of the ghost!Max AU

So apparently we were kind of breaking things with the ridiculous length of the old post. So. New post. Go here to read the fic from the beginning.

Furiosa is interrupted from her work by a knock on the door and a cheerful “Furiosaaa! We brought your favorite!”

“Thanks, Max,” Dag says cheerfully as she strides inside.

He waits until he hears the front door close and the voices are gone, then waits a little longer, until he hears Furiosa shuffle off to bed before he comes out of hiding.

The guy’s on the floor now at least, and Max goes for the nearest object again - the toaster, not that he’s particularly paying attention at the moment - and lifts it up into the air.

“Max, stop!”

Furiosa’s voice halts him instantly, toaster held high as he looks over to see her standing in the entrance to the kitchen, gun aimed at the man on the floor.

“What did I say about breaking my shit?”

#mad max fury road #furiosa #max rockatansky #ghost!max #fic #my fic

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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Eddie and Venom Get High as Shit

Okay, so—once in a while, maybe, if they have the time, and if Eddie is feeling petty enough, maybe, perhaps, occasionally they might sometimes loot their food.

They’ve acquired some knives in pretty good condition that way, and a sick ass jacket that Eddie can’t even wear outside or sell because he doesn’t want to be arrested for murder. And two guns that they keep in the apartment, but Venom won’t tell Eddie where he hid them. And a decent amount of cash.

And now, an unopened packet of gummy bears.

“Awh,” Eddie says when they find it, because gummy worms are the superior shape, and now this guy is too dead for Eddie to explain that to him.

•

“Do you think it’s gonna work on you?” he asks as he rips the bag open. “Because this is really, really different to alcohol.”

THIS IS STUPID, says Venom. WE ARE ALREADY HUNGRY AT ALL TIMES AND OF ALL THE THINGS WE COULD EAT RIGHT NOW, YOU WANT TO EAT THE THING THAT WILL MAKE US HUNGRIER.

“Okay,” says Eddie, “but you wanna eat ‘em too.”

Irritation trickles down the back of his skull.

I GUESS, says Venom.

•

It is not even ten fucking minutes before Venom says, OKAY.

Eddie continues to scroll through the List of Times People Died in Amusement Parks page on Wikipedia. “Okay what?”

OKAY YOU ARE IN THE PROCESS OF GETTING HIGH.

Eddie stops scrolling.

Actually, he, yeah, now that Venom brings it up, he does feel a little familiar something. “What the fuck?” he says.

THAT WAS THE IDEA, WASN’T IT?

“W—yeah, but. Now?”

OUR METABOLISM IS PERHAPS WHAT YOU MIGHT DESCRIBE AS “BANANAS,” Venom explains. I ASSUMED YOU KNEW.

“I—I knew—“ A very small pocket of Eddie’s brain is gearing up for full-blown panic. He sits up and looks at the trash can in the kitchen. “I figured there’s two of us so it‘ll act twice as slow and be half as strong.”

OH, says Venom. NO, THAT DOESN’T SOUND RIGHT.

“Well, why didn’t you say something about it before I ate them all?”

YOU SAID YOU COULDN’T DIE FROM IT SO I QUIT PAYING ATTENTION AFTER THAT.

Eddie contemplates for a minute, lies back down on the couch, sighs, “we’re going to fuckin’ Jupiter, I guess,” and resumes the amusement park death list.

•

Eddie unfocuses and refocuses his eye on the digital clock’s LED display. “I kinda feel like we should be at the beach for this,” he says. “You getting anything now?”

NOT THAT I CAN TELL. Venom swirling around in his body feels real nice, especially when he rubs up against the inside of Eddie’s face. It’s like stretching muscles he didn’t even know he had. Eddie puts his hand against his face and does his best to rub Venom back.

THAT IS NOT HOW OUR PHYSIOLOGY WORKS, Venom says, BUT THANK YOU.

•

“We’re gonna rock! Down! To! E-lec-tric Avenue,” sings Eddie, “and then we’ll take it higher!”

ANYTHING ELSE.

“We’re gonna rock! Down! To!”

EDDIE, I WILL STRANGLE YOU WITH YOUR OWN HANDS AND WE WILL BOTH DIE.

“E-LEC!-tri-caa-ven-oo! And then—“

CAN WE LISTEN TO ANYTHING ELSE.

•

The hunger comes on gradually. It kind of occurs to him and then he forgets about it, and it occurs to him and he forgets about it, and then at a certain point he pries his teeth off of the arm of the couch and says, “Is it dinner?”

I DON’T THINK SO.

“I think maybe so.” He pulls out his phone and looks at the numbers. Those are numbers, alright.

EDDIE, IT IS ONLY THREE FORTY EIGHT.

“That is close enough!” declares Eddie, vaulting himself onto his feet and rounding toward the kitchen. A pile of black goo congeals at his hip and anchors him to the corner of the couch. “Hey, what.”

NOT HUNGRY YET, says Venom.

“Don’t shit me,” says Eddie, “you’re hungry always.”

NOT NOW. I AM FEELING PRETTY NICELY FULL NOW, ACTUALLY. I WANT TO SAVOR IT.

“Absolute bullshit,” Eddie insists, and then he sticks his finger in the goo. Huh. “Huh,” he says.

He presses until it’s knuckle deep, hooks it, and drags a trench down the middle of the mass. The mass repairs itself almost immediately. Eddie grins and grabs a whole squirming handful.

OKAY, says Venom. ACCEPTABLE.

•

He’s gnawing on a mouthful of Venom when he remembers Buffalo Wild Wings exists.

“Ogghh m’gohd,” he moans, “you ha’n’t had winggh yet. I ough’a innadooshyu to winnggh.”

I’M STILL NOT ALL THAT HUNGRY.

Eddie shoves the goo aside with his tongue, and it recedes into the flesh of his mouth. “You serious?”

IT’S VERY REFRESHING.

A little loop of goo rises out of Eddie’s chest and writhes around itself like a snake with indigestion, but it’s happy. Eddie can feel it being happy. He half-wonders whether it’s the gummies keeping Venom full, but as a thought it’s just not as interesting as the happy little dance he gets to watch right now.

•

“Am I still getting higher?” he asks. Bob Ross is painting trees on YouTube and Eddie’s not watching, ‘cause there’s a handful of little black worms sliding around on his chest like ice skaters.

Another little worm slides in an arc over his forehead. Tickles. JUDGING FROM THE BLOOD AROUND HERE, says Venom, YOU SEEM TO BE LEVELING OUT.

“Okay,” says Eddie with several heavy nods, “good, that’s good, that’s good, I feel good.”

•

“Oh,” Eddie moans, “ohh, no, no, I don’t, I, I don’t feel good, I d—Ve’m, I don’t feel good, I really—I doooon’t feel good, Ve’m.”

THAAAAAT’S OKAY, croons Venom, HERE YOU GO. A tentacle nudges Eddie’s head down between his legs so his barf lands in the trash can. Behind him, the window jiggles open and fresh air rolls over his back.

He stares into the soggy mess of trash. The empty fuckin’ gummy bag peers up at him. “Get that gone,” he slurs weakly, and a black thing adheres to the bin and drags it out of his line of sight. “Thanks.”

INCOMING, Venom answers. Another dish towel, heavy with cold water, smacks against his face and stays there. Eddie sticks out his tongue on it.

•

The little pile of goo squelches out from between Eddie’s fingers. His legs would be jiggling if he wasn’t on his back, but as it is, it’s just his feet waving frantically back and forth.

He opens his mouth, lines the words up, and dispenses them in what he’s pretty sure is the correct order: “Gihhh… gimme another ice tea.”

Venom snatches another bottle from the shrinking twelve-pack on the counter and opens it for him.

“Ohhhh,” moans Eddie as he‘s wrapping his hands around the bottle, “thannnnks,” and he drinks half the bottle all at once before crashing down on the couch again. A little movement on his chest catches his eye.

Venom’s got another of those worm shows going, but it’s harder to watch now. Eddie shuts his eyes. “Uh, oh boy. I’m, I’m seeing a lot.”

NOOOOO PROBLEM, says Venom. I CAN DO IT ON YOUR BACK. HOLD ON.

There are two wet thuds, and then Eddie’s hovering over the couch, suspended by thick ropes of goo at his shoulders and hips. Their roots, the places where they connect to his body, creep to the left. Eddie rotates in the air like a rotisserie chicken.

“Why are you even doing that, anyway?” he asks.

FEELS GOOD, says Venom. LIKE HOW WE IMAGINE THOSE CATS PROBABLY FEEL WHEN THEY STRETCH THEIR BODIES.

Eddie watches the ceiling drift out of his peripheral vision. “Wow,” he says. “Is this you, high?”

THIS IS ME HAVING FUN NOT BEING HUNGRY, says Venom, and he deposits Eddie on the couch face-first.

“Oh,” says Eddie.

The worm dance resumes, on his back this time, like a shitty little massage.

•

“If I die,” Eddie mumbles into the pillow, “you need to go to the White House and possess the president.”

A flipper of goo strokes Eddie’s scalp from front to back. YOU ARE NOT DYING, coos Venom, YOU ARE SLEEPY.

“Make him a communist or make him shit his pants and die,” Eddie continues.

EDDIE.

“It’s all up to you, man. I’ll be dead.”

YOU WILL NOT.

Eddie’s head jerks up. “Wait, I want the rest of my iced tea,” he slurs.

YOU FINISHED THOSE.

“Wwwwww,” says Eddie, and puts his head back down. “Why not peeing?”

YOU ARE STILL PRODUCING, explains Venom, I HAVE JUST BEEN PUTTING IT ELSEWHERE.

“Okay,” says Eddie, “okay. Don’t talk anymore.”

AN IMPOSSIBILITY.

Yeah, fair. “Well, then, talk about something nice, then.”

So, for the rest of the night, Venom tells Eddie all about Eddie.

#venom #venom 2018 #eddie brock #fic #BEST FIC #EVER

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thatonezombiecosplayer · 5 years

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How about...Eddie and Venom experiencing somewhere outside of San Francisco :D

They’re on the Kree battleship for about five minutes before they’re caught and shot out of the nearest airlock. What the fuck, Eddie thinks, and can’t stop himself there, his thoughts circling an endless howling loop of What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

“Stop it,” Venom instructs, from where they’re trying to pick the lock on the airlock control panel. “You are distracting us.” There’s an awkward little squirm from somewhere near Eddie’s small intestines that makes Eddie think Venom is also a little embarrassed at how it’s making them look, which is stupid because Spiderman plainly lost consciousness about thirty seconds ago, and even though the kid’s only not drifting off into the endless cold and black because they’ve got a tentacle wrapped around one of his ankles, Eddie’s jealous of him. His suit has an oxygen pack. Fucking Stark tech. “We are better than Stark tech,” Venom says, insulted. “Stop overreacting.”

This is not an over-reaction, Eddie protests, suddenly aware that he’s sweating so much he’s shivering. This is–this is outer goddamn space, V!“So?” So that’s not right! That’s not where we’re supposed to be, we’re supposed to be–on a planet, on a ship, somewhere with oxygen, anywhere that’s not the–jesus christ, the literal fucking void.“We are on a spaceship,” Venom points out, and stomps one foot down on the hull, as if to remind Eddie of the facts of their situation, when he absolutely doesn’t need to be reminded. Frighteningly, the hull dents a little under their foot. We’re on the outside of a spaceship!!!!! Very different from being in a ship, V!!!! Humans are not supposed to be in outer space, or like, like if we are, we’re supposed to wear space suits. Eddie is sweating so much he starts shivering, even totally encased in symbiote. “We don’t need a space suit,” Venom says sharply, and takes control of their reflexes to stop the shaking. “We are superior to any suit.”

Oh my god, don’t get jealous, Eddie says, and feels a hysterical swell of laughter welling up. I just–I need reliable access to oxygen, V. “I am healing our oxygen-deprivation damage, Eddie. You won’t feel a thing. And I don’t need to breathe.” Like, Eddie tries. Like also psychologically. I need oxygen psychologically. “You’re so delicate,” Venom complains. “Fine.” The airlock pops open with a hiss. Oh my god, Eddie thinks, delirious with relief. Oh my god, I love you. “You do?” Venom asks, plainly delighted.

You–live in my head! Eddie thinks, and this time he’s the one giving an embarrassed internal wriggle. You know this. “We still like to hear it,” Venom says, and hauls Spiderman through the airlock, where he lands with an ungentle thunk. You’re such a goddamn sap. I love you like I love air. Come on, take a breath. Let’s wake the kid up.

They breathe in.

#venom #venom 2018 #eddie brock #fic

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