caedeskas-blog

[caedeskas-blog]

anglerfishnabe‌

Hyakunosuke sees the tendril if only vague form - upon looking up better he’s not any wiser on what he’s seeing but his fingers around the shotgun tighten a little.

“ I don’t know… Are you hunting too? “

He doesn’t have a rifle on him though - and he’s saying weird things. He’s not asking him to run around catching ducks by knife is he? Maybe he’s talking about a trap? 

“ You’re weird “, he finally says.

“ It’s easier with a gun. The bird will fly away otherwise. “

               THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN psychopaths and sociopaths is that psychopaths tend to be more. . . calculated in their actions. Cletus has played this song and dance over and over again. He’s a man in his late thirties with over a hundred confirmed kills ( one of which is the majority of Doverton ) and has taken on the likes of the Avengers. He’s not a fucking idiot but he is a certified nut.

               “Why’s it matter if I’m out playing games?” There are few emotions he genuinely feels; hatred and anger are a few strong ones but so are emptiness and maybe a twinge of fear. But, for the most part, he’s never satisfied. Having people question him piss him off; maybe he’ll kill the kid when this is over. Doesn’t seem like the kid wants to go on anyhow.

                “If they fly away, it’s your own fault,” he says, with the knowledge to back it up. Arms cross, the tendrils snake upwards to his shoulders where they perch and watch everything. Then it shoots something sharp, like an arrow or something of the sorts, towards a bird. It retracts, Cletus taking the freshly dying bird from his shoulder and dropping it to step on it. 

                “Guns are a cheap cheat to getting shit done when you can just get good enough with a knife.”

[caedeskas-blog]

@lethalitisms​

               A LARGE BOAT sits in front of him, a work in progress, but her his father was determined to finish it soon. One day they would set it on the waters, ride out on the waves together, just like they did with mama except it would be their own boat. Their own work. Their own voyage. He’s curious, wonders a lot, has joy in his heart and happiness in his soul so warm it almost hurts. “Papa, how big is the ocean, really?”

               The old man turns, hands in his pockets, having done checking out a few basic things with the boat. Cletus stands closely by when he comes over, looking up at the beauty, smiling. He’s happy, truly happy. “You’ve seen photos the astronauts who went to the moon took of the Earth. How big do you think the ocean is, Jubulile?”

               He’s not Cletus anymore. He’s Jubulile. He’s a child with ambitions, and a loving father, and a passion for travelling in the water. He has a family, with a mother and father, and lived a decent life. Cletus smiles, unsure if this was a dream or some hallucination of sorts, or a replay of his mind. Was it his mind? Was he not incapable of genuine happiness? “Big. Can we really sail all around it?”

[caedeskas-blog]

anglerfishnabe‌

Hyakunosuke aims, focused. His hands are surprisingly steady for a child but the shotgun is still somewhat heavy to hold. Even so the bullet meets its’ target - a wildduck that hadn’t much chance to escape. They fly off slower than some other birds, Hyakunosuke was told by grandfather sometime ago. 

He walks there slow, leaning down to pick up the bird. Strange sense of pride fills the boy. First target…. He’s eager to go to show it to his mother. He turns around to make his way, bumping into someone’s leg as he does.

“ …..a foreigner? “

 “What are you doing here? “he says slowly, eyes slightly widening in surprise.

               DESPITE THE NATURAL chaos of Cletus’s life ( and, by extension, Red’s ) he’s not particularly fond of guns. Weaponry. The inability to defend oneself without making use of a toy. Guns don’t hurt; they’re nothing to either the symbiote and the man. It’s not impressive- he is not impressed. And the child has the goddamn gall to bump into him.

               He recoiled, stepped back with a huff, spiked tendrils raising from his back as a few wrapped around his midsection, crimson and bright and slick. Red is asking for blood but Cletus wants to wait it out; there’s a force stopping him from changing the course of events- that, quite frankly, sucks.

               “Whattaya think I’m doing here, huh?” He’s agitated, borderline furious. A nap would’ve sufficed but he didn’t need some wackjob dream about some little kid who shot a bird once. “You just gonna keep practicin’ with guns or are you gonna decide on the better half and get with a knife?” 

[caedeskas-blog]

               ++ HERE’S AN EVENT STARTER CALL!!! Neither of these sickos have any actually ‘happy’ memories ( Cletus is a diagnosed psychopathic so he is incapable of feeling it and the symbiote pretty much learned everything from him including No Real Happiness ) but he does remember stuff from Jubulile and I can offer you some of their more ‘peaceful’ moments.

[caedeskas-blog]

spaceslcpt‌

When it came to it, Sleeper didn’t necessarily hate their siblings. While they could understand why others did, Sleeper was only raised with kindness and respect. The Mercury Team, Sleeper found respectable ( that Deadpool guy was nice ) and they understood clearly why Eddie wouldn’t want them to become a monster. To become something as devious and wicked and disgusting as Carnage. Straight from Eddie’s memories, there are little to no good memories about them.

Except for, of course, the one where they teamed up to try and kill Toxin.

“What are you doing here?” Carnage shouldn’t- couldn’t- be here. Sleeper knew they’d meet at some point in their long and extended life but they didn’t expect it so soon in such an open environment. Sleeper was aware, painfully so, of how dangerous and unstable Carnage was. From memories alone, it was clear. But here, face to face with danger, Sleeper knew clearly in those twisted eyes how it lusted for blood.

“May I be a mistake or not, my name is not any of your foul suggestions. I am Sleeper.” Arms cross, tendrils sway. Most would run from Carnage out of fear, out of preservation of their own life, but Sleeper was not afraid. They knew that their sibling was bound to the laws of the city, knew that they could only do so much, and figured there shouldn’t be anything to be afraid of.

“In case you needed to be informed, I was not particularly a mistake.”

               OH HOW FUCKING precious! Sleeper!

               How fucking disgusting.

               “And who’s the host?! Some poor sap that actually cares about you, huh? Were you loved when you were little, Baby Boy? Did Dad sing you lullabies to sleep?” Was this resentment? From how Red was left on Ryker’s? Not that Venom had any reason to care; it was part of the natural process to leave offspring at such at age. No love in Klyntar families; that was the norm.

               It was the case with Toxin. It was the case with Venom.

               But it was definitely coming from the human side of the equation. Definitely from how Kasady was treated in his childhood, how he was scorned, and shunned, and beaten, and spat at, and hated. How love was no longer registered in his mind the same way as other people would, how care and affection were nonexistent in his mind, how the only pang of love he had ever felt was for Shriek or for Red. And, even then, he’d be fine with Shriek dead now.

               “So you’re a product of their icky love story, huh?” How privileged. How fucking, godawfully privileged. Why was Sleeper the one with a happy childhood story? Why was Sleeper the one given a chance at love? Why was Cletus not allowed, never allowed, to have love, to be given it, to have something so precious? What was the difference! What was the matter! “I hate you.” 

[caedeskas-blog]

envymachine‌

“Uh, no? What kinda design would that be?” Robots needed considerably less oil than people seemed to think they did. Not to say that destroying Darrell wouldn’t make a mess of grease and other more esoteric fluids, but not enough to make him bleed. And asking if he would die from was just confusing to a machine that hadn’t yet connected the dots between bodily harm and death. “Just because a–” He tried to summon what Dad would have said in his place. “Pathetic organic life-form like you doesn’t have the power to kill me doesn’t mean I’m not alive!”

It was a lie. Darrell would be easy to kill if not for the circumstances that kept his real self far away from potential harm. Of course this guy could kill him, so could a bucket of water or a particularly strong magnet. He had no idea how it would feel, and the mystery of it all was… certainly not very pleasant to think about. So the next question made him made him wince. “How– I don’t–” He didn’t know, how was he supposed to know? “Whatever. I don’t have time for this sh– this crud.”  

Not that he actually had anywhere to be, but he turned indignantly to leave anyway. Not before spitting through his teeth at the creep, though.

               “A FUN ONE, PIPSQUEAK!” Carnage flared for a second, Kasady’s face engulfed in Red out of sheer agitation, but it didn’t linger for a second longer as it disappeared just as quickly. Fuck this city’s stupid system, fuck this city’s inhibitions, fuck this city’s affinity for law and order and ‘peace’ and whatever. Nobody had the right- nobody had the fucking right- to be happy! “If you can’t die, then you were never alive in the first place.”

               Red agrees with him, grumbles from inside his head, and he tightens his fist. Nobody has the right to be happy, or to smile, or to have a good life because Cletus didn’t have one. What gave anybody the goddamned privilege to live carefree? What gave anybody the chance to enjoy life? And who was anybody to deny Cletus of such pleasures when they were so happy with it themselves?

               “I could dismember you. Leave you in scraps in a dump or leave you here. Dead! Dead, dead, dead!” It was the one thing that made Cletus happy. That made Carnage whole; their single mission was to eradicate all life, with whatever it took, because life was a fucking prison and Carnage was the one to free everyone. “And, fuck, who’s to fucking stop me?”

[caedeskas-blog]

@lethalitisms: ++ The way Carnage’s character and...

[[ the way he treats women is so YUCK like jjJKDJHJJDSF ugh man ]]

               ++ costa RESPECTED women i’ll tell you that

[caedeskas-blog]

               ++ The way Carnage’s character and revival was handled really could’ve done better chief............ as well as literally anything else in the 2018 venom comics it’s really sad but I love the comics coming out from other writers for the venom content because they’re all directly pointing a middle finger to Cates

[caedeskas-blog]

@envymachine: “WE BEND TO NO HIGHER POWER!” They...

real fans eat the comics

               ++ we eat them for nutrients but the cates run is full of Yikes so its not good for our health :pensive:

[caedeskas-blog]

               “WE BEND TO NO HIGHER POWER!” They yell at the top of their lungs; they want to make sure they’re heard. They want to make sure nobody dare thinks for a fucking second that even God can chain them down. They are chaos and they are anger and they are fucking CARNAGE, baby! “WE DO NOT BOW DOWN TO GOD. GOD BOWS TO US! WE ARE NOT A SERVANT BECAUSE EVERYBODY SERVES US! And if they don’t serve us? They’ll wish they did.”

[caedeskas-blog]

@spaceslcpt

               CARNAGE HAD A thing about hating their family. Part of it was because Brock beat Cletus up while they were on Ryker’s, part of it was because that’s simply how Klyntar families traditionally worked. Carnage didn’t care about Toxin, or Scorn, or any of their siblings. And, of course, not about Venom. There was no love, nor care, when thinking about them. Of course, Cletus was fully incapable of giving it in the first place, but there’s something special about this hatred.

               As far as they knew, their siblings, their father, and their offspring were the only other Klyntar on Earth. There were no other Klyntar to run into. So, when the familiar scent of family ran past them at the end of the week, Carnage felt outright enraged. Their blood boiled, anger seeping through skin. There’s no other possible explanation for this that Cletus could think of and they immediately stood on the offensive when approaching Sleeper.

              “What are you? Daddy’s latest mistake?” Carnage hissed, blunt fingertips attempting to sharpen themselves into blades or knives but staying the same. If they were to choke Sleeper to death, so be it. Not that Klyntar needed to breathe the same way but they hoped that it’d at least cause some intense pain. “What’d they name you this time? Pain? Broken bones? Pain is just Pain entering the body?”

               Dad was never good at naming, huh?

[caedeskas-blog]

@smallblueboyscout​

               IT WASN’T TOO long ago that he’s had to pretend to be a functioning member in society. Or was it? Time is twisted in his head but he treads onwards anyways. Red chirps and bubbles and croons in a way that Cletus can remember back on Ryker’s. Hell, in Doverton too, eating all those cows. Red had something Cletus didn’t and it was why he loved her so very much ( though it’s important to note he didn’t want a family, really; in his eyes, Scorn and Toxin were liabilities more than children ).

               What gave people the right to be happy? What gave people the fucking privilege? Everything around them is burning and raging so why be sympathetic? Existence is a prison and Cletus was the jailbreaker- Carnage would set people free from law and order. Of course, he still liked to eat. Red got fuzzy when he didn’t eat at least once a week so he figured heading to a diner was his best bet at both a meal and a massacre. “I don’t hate you, Red.”

               “If I did, I would’ve spit you out on the pavement and stepped on you.” He picks up a piece of bacon and stuffs it into his mouth. No regard for cleanliness but who cares? A tendril from his finger has extended into his coffee cup and, gradually, the drink shrinks. “Whatever is happening to you, I’m gonna fix that. No fucking prison is gonna keep Cletus Kasady caged. The only jail he can’t escape is the prison of his mind.”

               Once the cup is half empty, Cletus smacks the tendril with a scowl, watching it retract with a frown. Much better. Then he takes is own drink, tipping his head back, some of the coffee spilling out and finishing it rather quickly. “This city is gonna have Carnage written all over it soon. Just gotta fix the problem. That’s all it’ll take before this city comes crumbling down.”

[caedeskas-blog]

               :)

               >:0

[caedeskas-blog]

envymachine‌

Darrell wasn’t paying attention to what the man was saying, not at first. He’d struck up a conversation with a woman about taking some junk off her hands and found himself quite enjoying the company. It was only when someone started hitting him on the head that it registered that someone else was talking to him. Something about the stranger that Darrell couldn’t perceive made the woman get an uncomfortable look, and, when the man began to talk, she hurried away. Ugh, now he was stuck with this creep.

His was kind of a difficult question to answer. Darrell was aware that life involved things like… nerve function, a beating heart, having cells. And it was pretty obvious that he didn’t fit the bill there, even with the facsimile of skin and organs that he had. Still… that wasn’t what his father said. When he talked about his creations, he “created life.” He “gave life.” That meant Darrell had to have received it. In the face of all the contrary evidence, that gave him all the conviction he needed.

“Of course I’m alive–! What kinda question is that?” Darrell shot him the most venomous look his eye could contain. “Now, can you stop bothering me?”

               WAY BACK WHEN he used to be at Ryker’s, Cletus used to contemplate putting robots into the equation. Ultimately, he decided not to; if they didn’t have equal sentience- enough to replicate fear, at least- then it wasn’t fun enough to consider. Red used to talk to him about it, when he used to listen ( he stopped sometime after the Toxin situation ). She used to say something about how some of them were alive. 

               Scorn was enough proof for him that they weren’t.

               “It’s a good one, tin can.” Robots didn’t have personalities. They didn’t exist on the same wavelength- as Wade would probably put it- that humans or any actual sentient beings. Hell- he even considered Red simply just a suit on some occasions and she didn’t care because he was everything she knew. “What if I stabbed you. Right now. What would happen, huh? Wouldja bleed oil? Wouldja start dying?”

               Cletus was smart. When he was a boy, he knew that the robots in the shows with blinking eyes and fake smiles were fake. They weren’t organic and, by association, weren’t fun to kill. Fun kills bleed, and scream, and kick and cry as he kills them, freeing them of the mortal existence and cage that was life. But robots? Handmade beings aren’t typically afraid of fear. They don’t grasp mortality the same way as everybody else. They don’t feel anything.

               They were just Cletus but made of metal and really stupid. He hated robots. “If you died, d’ya think the man upstairs would give you a seat anywhere?” 

[caedeskas-blog]

@igotus

               FACADES AND LIES and manipulation and all sorts of other things were right up Cletus’s alley. Red didn’t care- this was the environment she was thrust upon anyhow- and it was everything Cletus ever did in his life. Lie, and cheat, and kill. Because law and order were so damn constricting and he was the angel sent to fix that with ABSOLUTE FUCKING CARNAGE, BABY! They couldn’t exactly form Carnage right now but they did have this dagger so they might as well use it. “Hahah! Wrong answer!”

               “I don’t think you’ve ever seen me do it with just my bare hands, baby,” he says, deathly grip on the poor sap’s collar. Red swirls curiosity in his head, hand holding the dagger now raised as the victim sobbed out ‘please’s and other related terms that Cletus doesn’t care about. Emotions never stuck with him anyways. “Watch this. Used to do this all the time, even before you. So many times that they stuck me on Ryker’s, thinking that it’d solve anything.”

               Fucking Ryker’s. No powers but they were scared enough to put Cletus in a place designed for the big brawny kinds of villains. Oh, the notoriety since then! His name, on every TV screen and flyer and wanted ad! He wonders what he’s going to have to do here for the same attention. Meanwhile, his dagger drags up from the victim’s torso to underneath his chin. “Sharp. Not sharp. Either way, a piece of wood is gonna enter your throat and I’m gonna watch you bleed out on the floor.”

               This place isn’t Oklahoma or anywhere remotely close to anywhere he was familiar with but he’ll take it because that meant he could start from scratch with Red by his side the entire way. The dagger- though blunt- is pressed painfully against the throat and elicits a yell. Cletus stops short of breaking skin, only to speak. “And you know what? I’m gonna enjoy it.”

[caedeskas-blog]

@gildedusurper​

               SOCIETY IS A prison that Cletus often said was worse than being stuck on Ryker’s island in the same cell as that body-building dumbass. Cletus didn’t care about the norm because he chose Carnage; that meant he didn’t abide by the same societal rules that others did. Cut him and he bleeds but, unlike others, he didn’t care that the blood drained out. So long as he gets what he wants, everything is as it should be.

               Not that he stays dead for long anyways. Cletus has a track record of surviving or being resurrected one way or another; they didn’t need the dumb fucking darkhold to keep them together because they were already strong enough without it. Carnage was a lot to handle for even the likes of Spiderman so who’s to say a stupid book was the only source of power and recognition?

               “Whattaya looking at?” Arms crossed, back straight. Red curled in his subconscious and Cletus ran a thumb across his cheek, noticing the blood. Was it his or the homeless guy he stabbed? Nonetheless, he used his whole arm to wipe across his face, that fresh blood seeping into the shirt. Of course, there was that missed spot by his lips, but he just licked it away.

               “If you don’t stop staring like that, I might just stab you.” But, regardless, he’d stab someone anyways. Not because ‘voices told him to’ or ‘he saw a sign he had to’ but because it was fun and he’d be freeing someone. He’d rather do that than whatever the hell this city’s shtick is. “Stab you as in right now. Or later.”

[caedeskas-blog]

@lethalitisms

               CLICKS IN THE back of his throat signal interest, intrigue, curiosity, and finally a burning rage so deep in his bones that even Red can feel it reverberate in their shared subconscious. Carnage can’t tell if it’s Cletus being mad about the jail-beatings or if it’s Red’s natural family feud but this is just the kick they needed and the redhead gripped the wooden dagger so tight that it was a few notches just below snapping. A smile so wicked and devious spread wide.

               “Found you.”

               Epinephrine spreads in his veins and Red consumes it, always starving for it, bubbles in excitement at what is to come. And, as far as they’re aware, their Itsy Bitsy Spiderman isn’t anywhere around to join so it’d be all the more sweeter! Though, when Cletus expects their mass to consume him, nothing happens. Red sounds pathetically apologetic but Cletus isn’t looking for that. He needs Carnage, he needs to wreak havoc, cause chaos!

               “What did you do to me?” From his hands, he looks up to Eddie, snarling. Despite it coming from the human part of the equation, it sounds terrifyingly inhuman, Kasady’s neck straining as his eyes are wide, pupils two tiny dots, gritted teeth. And he’s still smiling, ear to ear, large and disturbing as his legs bounce. He doesn’t mind taking Eddie on by hand!

               “Oh, Daddy-Dearest, I guess we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way! Down to the basics! Me stabbing you in your eyes and snapping your neck will be so fun!” Was this Red talking or Cletus? Either way, he was excited to get this over with once and for all. Whatever is stopping Carnage, it sure as hell was probably stopping Venom too, right?