Chapter Text
Eddie, we are the best blorbo.
“That’s not what that means,” Eddie mutters, wiping a stray fleck of blood off his face. Don’t think about where that came from. For god’s sake, don’t think about all those screams.
We are… squishy, are we not? Venom’s echoing demonic voice turns thoughtful. Like putty. Or sludge. Is that not what a blorbo is?
“You’re thinking more of a ‘blob’, not a ‘blorbo’,” Eddie corrects, wondering how exactly his crystallised knowledge passes through to his alien companion in such a way that the context seems to get so muddled all the time. “A blorbo is an internet slang word. It basically means a beloved fictional character. Your favourite.”
Then we are Eddie’s blorbo!
Eddie coughs. “I did say fictional.”
We try out fictional things all the time! Venom argues valiantly. Like after watching those anime videos when we put tentacles inside—
“Yes, and I wish you would stop doing that in public,” Eddie grits out through his teeth, blushing furiously. “Uh, and that’s not called anime, it’s actually—nevermind.”
With one last sickening crunch, Venom finishes its meal and slithers back under his clothes in time for Eddie to stroll out onto the high street, passersby none the wiser about what just took place. Eddie will remember, though. Eddie will drink to forget, and it will do nothing, because his hanger-on will prevent the alcohol from doing god’s work.
Something brushes against his inner thigh.
He lets out a shaky sigh and whispers, with just a hint of warning, “Venom.”
We want to do it again.
“Don’t I get a say in this?” Eddie hisses quietly, tossing a plastic smile at the family of four giving him a hard side-eye, stomach lurching in rolling twists of anxiety-horror-anticipation.
No. Venom sounds smug. We like it that way.
And Eddie just stops for a moment to breathe, traffic lights blurring to impressionist strokes against the back of his eyelids. Even when he was alone in his own mind, he’d never been very good at lying to himself.