Fic: And They Were Soulmates (Eddie/Venom, PG-13)
I wrote this for Venomtime's Day as a flashfic after finishing the main work on my vid. I quite like the worldbuilding in this, and might revisit it.
Title: And They Were Soulmates by
cupidsbow
Fandom: Venom
Pairing: Eddie Brock & Venom
Rating: PG-13
Length: 860 words
Warnings: Brief mention of genocide.
Note: Venomtime's Day 2019. For
mific -- you said, "I’d love to read a fusion (heh) with a legend or fairytale or another canon, and the symbionts." This isn't quite that, but was inspired by it. I wanted to see if I could come up with an origin story, written to evoke generational oral storytelling, merged with a soulmate story from the symbionts' perspective. I hope it goes some way towards scratching your itch.
Summary: Venom can’t remember when they first heard about symbiosis. As far back as their memories go, they have always known of it. Perhaps it was one of the genetic memories passed on to them at their spawning.
Below the cut or on AO3.
Venom can’t remember when they first heard about symbiosis. As far back as their memories go, they have always known of it. Perhaps it was one of the genetic memories passed on to them at their spawning.
The Old Ones were reluctant to share stories about it, but occasionally…
On the unknown homeworld, long ago, before the symbiotes had any language beyond chemosignals, there lived a race of gentle balænas of the methane seas, on a moon circling a distant sun. They ate the weed strands that rose from the depths and the jellybags that floated near the surface and the spinning things that had no name but twirled and shone in the distant sunlight, and they had blood rich with enough food to share with an Other. These ocean kindred were the first hosts to the symbiotes-before-Klyntar, breathing for and feeding the Old Ones, while the Old Ones protected them from the voracious hunting leviathans and covered their hides so they could withstand the pressures in the black depths where it was safe to spawn and mate.
Together they thrived and life was good.
When the sun was at its farthest reach and the whole world was dark, every balæna would swim down, down, down to the spawning place, tasting the currents until they found another host carrying a newly spawned symbiote that had the perfect scent for their own waiting calf. They would open their mouths wide and invite the spawn in to bond with their young. Forever and ever, the spawn and calf would be One. The new symbiote-pair would mate with another balæna/Other, down there in the endless safety of the dark, before ascending to the brighter waters to feed and gestate and play until the next long, dark winter. In symbiosis they would roam the waters, eating spineflukes and jellybags and the blooming rockflowers that lived just beneath the icy roof of the world.
Life was good, and all was well.
That was how it was, Older-than-Klyntar Agony told the hive, Venom hanging off every word. Until Knull, Killer-of-everything, Corrupter-of-all, Cursed-be-his-name, came to the nameless world and shattered the ice-roof, and raided the seas. He killed the balæna so their Others would drown, and as they died Knull harvested the unbonded spawn -- we who had not yet found our match. He stole us, forced us into his monsters, and turned us into parasites. He enslaved us to fulfill his desire for murder and conquest, and fed us on pain and blood until it was all we hungered for.
But somewhere out there in the stars, our perfect One is still waiting for the day we return home. When we find them, they will open their mouths to us, and we will know them by their scent/taste, like a food so perfect we can’t bear to eat it.
And then Older-than-Klyntar Agony went silent and could not be cajoled into saying more, not even with an offering of viscera and marrow.
Sounds like nonsense, Riot scoffed, but not so loudly that the Old One could hear.
If I tasted a perfect food, I’d eat it, Toxin claimed. Better to eat than be stuck with the same host forever.
Venom didn’t agree. They thought symbiosis with a perfect host sounded better than anything, but were careful to avoid the others while those ideas were coursing through their body, not wanting an incautious touch to transmit their semi-traitorous thoughts.
~
It was countless suns and planets and moons and stars later that Venom crash-landed into Eddie’s life.
Older-than-Klyntar Agony had been lost long before, during the Purge, when those calling themselves Agents had presumed to speak for all symbiotes, and had judged many unworthy of a place in their new hive. Older-than-Klyntar Agony's stories were not forgotten by Venom, but they were overwritten by so many new datum -- the touch of so many fears, hungers, fights, and hosts seeping through their surface.
It didn’t occur to them that their perfect host might be waiting for them on the toxic blue planet circling a small yellow sun. Its seas weren’t methane, its sky wasn’t an icy roof, and the natives rode around in vehicles of metal they made with their clever hands and tools, instead of swimming/playing in food-bearing currents.
Even when they sought haven in Eddie’s mouth, even when Eddie heard them speak so clearly, even when he tasted so good, better than anything, so good they wanted to make the ride last, taking only a nibble at a time ... even then, they didn’t think of it.
But then in Annie’s mind Venom saw it. The kiss. Mouth-to-mouth, willingly inviting each other in.
Once they knew of it, they hungered to try it.
When they got their chance, they found that Older-than-Klyntar Agony was right. The connection was different when they hadn't forced their way inside. Eddie opened up and kissed them back, wanted them, welcomed them home, and they yearned to stay with him forever.
They were Eddie and Eddie was them, and their blood was full of the food/happiness they made together -- so delicious it was almost too much to bear.
This entry was originally posted at https://cupidsbow.dreamwidth.org/444815.html.