#Symbisona

[thatgayoctopus]

Practiced a new kind of coloring style! I really really love the outcome!

It's my OC Cataclysm (on the right) and my friend's OC Overseer (being bitten)

Alternate versions and close ups under the cut!

[krisseratops]

So I made a symbiote sona :3

Because why not!

After seeing @anisecandy 's insanely pretty symbisona I was inspired to make my own! I kinda started out with the concepts "spiky" and "feral" and went nuts from there. And yes of course it glows in the dark! It even has a rave mode:

Silly little inspiration board under the cut:

[oni-amour]

photodump of my angel

[monster-teeth]

@symbruary This is for day ONE of Symbruary!! All throughout February I’m going to be trying follow the prompts by doing art of my symbi-sona Skreech!! prolly not this detailed and polished but we’ll see LOL

You may not use my OCs or art of my OCs to represent your OCs in any way shape or manner, including, but not limited to, on private or public roleplay.

[wearemystic]

Sofia and Terror

Host Info:

Full Name: Sofia Anne Derricks

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Disaster Bi™ with a preference for women

Appearance: Sofia is big. She has broad shoulders and and a tree trunk waist and arms that could crush your ribs if she tried hard enough (she never does, but still). Her eyes are hazel with flecks of blue and gold around the pupil. She keeps her wavy blonde hair bobbed, and often uses bobby pins to tame the flyaways. She stands tall, at around 5’8 and is heavier than she looks (most of her weight is simply muscle mass).

Backstory: Sofia grew up in rural Georgia with her parents and six older siblings (4 brothers, 2 sisters). Her dad died when she was 12 in a farming accident involving a wheat thresher. After this, Sofia threw herself into her schooling, maintaining high grades while participating in most of the sports offered for girls at her local high school. When she was 17, Sofia was approached by Nick Fury himself, and he offered her a job and training at S.H.I.E.L.D. to become an agent. She accepted, and worked hard to become an indispensable asset to the shadowy organization. When Carlton Drake began acting more... suspicious than usual, S.H.I.E.L.D. sent Sofia to investigate. She slipped up while undercover (the first mistake of her career), and Drake forced her to undergo several experiments (one of which was a genetics test that revealed latent mutant genes) before finally forcing symbiosis with the yellow symbiote that the rocket team brought back from space. She escaped the Life Foundation during the commotion that Eddie Brock caused and fled San Francisco.

{~*~}

Symbiote Info:

Name: Terror

Gender: Nonbinary

Age: Unknown

Appearance: Yellow, with jagged orange and white Lichtenburg markings on the outsides of their arms, legs, hands, and sides. They have four black, ovalish eyes (the outer two are larger) and three (!!!) mouths. Terror is tall (like Sofia!), reaching a height of 9 feet when stood up straight. (Usually, they’re bent over at the waist like an old man.) Their arms are long enough that their fingertips drag on the ground, and they have a slight hunch in their shoulders.

{~*~}

The sweet, sweet plot to their canon timeline is as follows:

Sofia bonds with Terror

Eddie breaks into the Life Foundation

Sofia and Terror flee in the confusion

Break into an old, abandoned S.H.I.E.L.D bunker with the intent to hide from Drake and his goons

Discover evidence of human/mutant experimentation & S.H.I.E.L.D.’s origins with HYDRA

Fly into a rage

Begin to plot the takedown of what remains of the organization

[krisseratops]

Okay, you are not going to believe what just happened. This whole thing made me want to draw some Anti-Venom kitties, so I went to google some cat refs and I stumble over this 'black smoke' maine coon called Richie and I'm just... losing my shit because

THAT is a REAL CAT. Are you seeing this?!? Kitty!Anti-Venom is fucking REAL and I'm over the moon for it.

And like, not only is this uncanny levels of EXACTLY what I had in mind to draw, but it ACTUALLY looks like Anti-Venom. Same facial markings, same eye colour, same judgmental glare. Like, holy shit, look at that pretty boy. It's him. It's fucking HIM, in the flesh FUR and I just can't-

Also, he (Richie, not Anti-Venom) is apparently internet famous for 'looking like a lemur' which, sure, he kinda does, but more importantly, HE LOOKS LIKE MY BABY!!! He is the real life catsona of Anti-Venom! (Or maybe Anti-Venom is just his fictional symbisona. Oh well.)

Ca(n)tivenom

@krisseratops

[dovahgriin-archive]

someone needs to take away my autodesk glitch brushes

[terrorsymbiote]

progress on a headshot of Terror and Sofia

[bigvroman]

Quick follow up on the last post. That Carnage started out as my symbisona, Rage. I got nearly done with this and said "waitaminute" and switched gears. #bigvart #oc #sketch #rage #symbiote #symbisona #marvel #teeth #tongue #venom #carnage #absolutecarnage #thumbsup https://www.instagram.com/p/BwpiPr6BPXQ/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=hfc3go2g9car

[thatgayoctopus]

WOE!!! CATACLYSM BE UPON YE!!!

HEHEHEH quite proud of the colors on this one tbh I'm literally LEARNING!!! I am full of whimsy and LIGHT!!!

clear version under the cut

[krisseratops]

Sneak Attack!

Using my symbisona for nefarious purposes (hugging my moots)! @anisecandy is the first to fall victim nyehehe! Get embraced, idiot! 💜💜💜

[mourningmage]

new venom movie leeks: carnage straight chillin

@glassjoee @paracosmosey there you go guys

[bakageta]

For @symbruary prompt 4: animals, I had to do something with @lmtyl‘s symbisona. They’ve posted art that you should definitely check out. Betaed by @saja-star

Title: They Are Fluffy Rating: G

Eddie woke up to sharp needle points pressing rhythmically into his side. There was something with claws next to him underneath the blankets, something toasty warm and peach fuzz soft. Considering Venom had left it alone, whatever it was probably wasn’t too dangerous.

“Veeee…” Eddie groaned. It was too early to be dealing with a mystery creature in his armpit. “Th’hell is in bed with us?”

The cat from last night. Venom expanded and contracted in his chest, sharing in a contented sigh.

“Right.” Eddie agreed blankly.

With a feeling of rolled eyes, Venom nudged Eddie into a memory of their walk home from the Golden Gate bridge. It was miserable, a downpour that had soaked Eddie to the bone before Venom had a chance to cover him in an approximation of a raincoat, but, while Eddie was distracted by the weather, Venom had focused on the long-haired cat trailing after them. The cat hadn’t seemed to mind the rain nearly as much as Eddie’s memories indicated it should, though maybe that was because the water slid off it's coat instead of saturating it. It was a similar color pattern to the cat that Eddie had shared with Anne, and Venom wondered if he’d want to keep it. 

For his part Eddie only realized that the cat had followed him into the apartment when it darted in front of him and hid under the couch. He’d thought for a brief moment about trying to retrieve it, but settled for hoping that it wouldn’t pee in his shoes and promptly forgot about it.

The cat that Eddie found under his covers looked completely different than the one that Venom remembered following them home.

“What happened to your fur?” Eddie asked the pink, hairless cat that was curled up next to him, looking at him with the kind of put upon irritation that only a cat could manage. There was no sign it had ever had fur.

It answered with a burbling “murrrp” and squinted its eyes shut against the cold air beyond the covers.

They were too warm, Venom said too quickly to be translating.

“And how the hell does that even work?” Even ignoring how Venom knew the cat was too warm, animals just didn’t go bald overnight. The cat was completely unaffected by Eddie’s concerns as it covered its face with a paw and curled up tighter.

Before Venom could respond a wave of fur bloomed from the cat flowing from its face, down its body in waves, and fluffing its tail into a plush bottle brush that covered its nose.

“Oh. It works like that. The fur just comes back because of course it does.” The not-cat seemed content to snuggle against his chest and he could still feel Venom lazing idly against the inside of his ribs.

They are a good pair, Venom observed. Well matched. They reached with Eddie’s arm and sunk his fingers into the not-cat’s fur. As Venom massaged Eddie’s fingertips against the not-cat’s side the fur parted and flowed around them like water. He got the impression of a patch of sunlight on a pile of warm, clean laundry. An ideal place to lay and be warm on both sides. 

“Pair?” Eddie took his hand back and started petting. The fur compressed under his palm as he would have expected. As he stroked the not-cat, its fur curled up and clung to the side of his hand, just like Venom tended to do when they pretended to be a jacket for him. The not-just-a-cat started purring, an almost normal sound echoed by a deep rumble that sounded bigger than the creature making it.

Yes. Venom built a head up and out of Eddie’s flank, pushing the blankets down to his hips and leaving the more-than-a-cat completely uncovered.

As if on cue the fur on the not-cat’s tail thickened and solidified into a second head which glanced at Eddie before it locked eyes with Venom. The other symbiote, because Eddie couldn’t think of what else it could be, was a warm two-toned brown. It had a blocky head that reminded Eddie of a lioness’ muzzle with large pointed teeth poking out from under its upper lip.

“We are Venom and Eddie,” Venom introduced.

The other Klyntar extended a thin tendril, which Venom accepted, and Eddie was suddenly aware of another set of thoughts in the back of his head. The brown symbiote’s mind was familiar in its broad strokes, but the cat’s mind wasn’t. It was a different set of priorities and intentions, content with its environment, and completely unconcerned.

They were the motion of falling on to the perfect sun-warmed spot and landing in the perfect pose with just enough underbelly to tempt the foolish into range of their claws. And they were a human sound (Buffy! Buffy? Buffy.), repeated until they knew it was theirs. And together they were soft, and warm, and bigger than they were alone.

"Flop and Buffy?" Eddie questioned after a moment of thought.

The brown symbiote sent him a feeling of impressed agreement. He was pretty smart for a human.

“Together they are Fluffy,” Venom intoned dramatically while Buffy stretched their legs out contentedly and rolled onto their back.

[feel-the-fire]

Did I make a spidersona? Or rather… a symbisona?

YOU BET YOUR BIPPIES I DID

Harper Hunt/Feral. A freelance artist in New York who unknowingly picked up her Symbiote companion while on a trip in Colorado. Harper didn’t even realize Feral was with her until her flight back to New York, looking through her sketchbook and finding drawings she had no memory of making.

[monster-teeth]

You’re Welcome x2, because this is for a different OC universe and I wanted to make separate posts 😂

@eternalgirlscout

[ckret2]

Chocolate Pudding

Venom accidentally loses the symbiote’s newest spawn and turns NYC upside down trying to find it.

Meanwhile, a four-year-old girl prods a pile of chocolate pudding.

This fic was written for Day 1 of @symbruary, prompt: "symbisona/symbiOC". Due to the fact that I am not a four-year-old girl, this is an OC, not a sona. This fic is not yet proofed due to the fact that I wrote it on my phone in a five-hour haze of symbiote-loving hyperfocus.

You: "Hey, where does this fic fit into Venom's comic continuity?" Me: *makes a wiggly hand motion*

###

"That should hold Spider-Man for a little bit," Venom said to themselves as they swung away from the collapsing parking garage. "If it doesn't outright squash him like the bug he is! Ha! But no—fate has never been so kind as to smile upon us that way. This is but a short reprieve, during which we can—"

There was a sensation inside their brain like a sticker peeling off of its backing as symbiote and host's consciousnesses separated. Uh-oh. Eddie.

"Hm?" Eddie tilted his head, as though to better hear the voice in his head. "What's wrong, my love?"

Think I dropped a baby.

"What?!" Venom nearly crashed into a skyscraper. They cracked a window and then clung to it as Eddie's heart leaped into his throat. For them to drop a poor innocent baby, especially at these heights, because that accursed Spider-Man had been hounding them—When had they been holding a baby—?

Not human, the symbiote quickly clarified. One of mine. Ours.

"Oh!" The panic drained out of Eddie; and then immediately returned. "We had a baby?! Where? When?"

Don't know; wasn't paying attention. Near Times Square?

"We'll have to hurry. Any kind of miscreant could pick it up there!" Venom kicked off the building, swinging back in the direction they'd come from.

###

Faye leaned over as far as she could with the teacher's vice grip on her hand, stretching her chubby brown fingers toward what looked to her like a pile of iridescent chocolate pudding sitting in the street just next to the curb. She couldn't quite reach it with how tightly the teacher was holding her hand.

The pudding reached back toward her.

The teacher's attention was split between watching traffic for a safe point to herd her charges across the street and scanning the sky to make sure the super villain that had crashed the children's home van wasn't looping back with Spidey to terrorize the square again. She glanced down once to make sure Faye wasn't about to fall off the curb, looked back at traffic, belatedly registered that she'd seen the fidgeting four-year-old reaching toward some nasty gutter gunk, and looked down again. "Faye! Don't touch—"

But there was no gunk. Just Faye, standing straight up, looking around in a startled daze like someone had just dragged her out of a daydream by setting off a party popper in her face.

The teacher didn't have time to worry about it—Faye was probably just stunned from the recent super fight—and the light had just changed. The teacher hustled her charges across the street.

Faye saw a woman passing the other way with bright neon green cornrows. She reached up and patted her own cloud of bouncy black hair, then twisted around in her teacher's grip to look back over her shoulder at the woman with the colorful hair, seeing how the braids zigzagged like lightning down the back of her head.

Little patches of bright green bloomed in Faye's hair, thread-thin tendrils mixing in with her natural hair. They wrapped around her hair like ivy weaving through a trellis, then wove the strands together, starting from her hairline and moving back. By the time they reached the other side of the street, five wide black-and-green braids inexpertly meandered back and forth over her head and dangled down to her shoulders.

It took the teacher two blocks to notice.

###

"We've turned the whole city upside-down," Venom lamented, sitting morosely atop an office building with their chin in a hand. "A whole week, and no sign of our youngest progeny! Where could it be? Hiding in the sewers, cold and alone with only rats and strays to meet its needs for sustenance and symbiosis?"

The dinosaur-people would know if so, the symbiote pointed out. They would say. Yes?

"That's true," Eddie said, relaxing slightly. "They know your scent, they'd know your child's too. Still, we should let them know to be on the lookout for one and to let us know if they find it." He tried to remember the nearest sewer entrance that wouldn't require them to pry up a manhole cover in the middle of a city street, and shot out a tendril to a taller building to swing them in that direction. "I just hope someone far fouler hasn't seized our innocent offspring," he said. "A criminal, a corporation, or, worse—an agent of the government."

###

The children's home's top social worker—certified agent of the government—watched through a partially cracked window as the four-to-six-year-olds played outside. She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder, listening to the hold music.

Faye tripped while running around between the faded playground equipment. The social worker saw her push herself up, rub her cheek vigorously, and inspect her scratched up bloody knee. Faye scrubbed the dirt off the scratch, and when she pulled her hand away the scratch was gone.

The social worker let out a low whistle.

The hold music stopped and the social worker sat up straighter. "Hi! Yes, this is... oh, hi, I think I spoke to you a couple of days ago." She laughed politely. "Yes, this is about the—Yes. Faye Fletcher. I was wondering about the uh, the procedures to enroll a child at Xavier's Institute if the child doesn't have legal guardians? I understand sometimes legal parents give up guardianship of their children to your institute, I don't know if the procedure is different if she's already a ward of the state—" The social worker fell silent a moment. "Four years old." She listened, then nodded. "Uh-huh. I see. See, our concern is—we don't have anyone on staff trained to help with, uh, gifted children, and since our grant doesn't allow us to hand gifted children to potential foster homes or adoptive parents unless they've passed a certification course—uh-huh. Oh, no no, I think it's great to make sure the parents are prepared, but it's—yes. It's going to make it harder to place her."

She listened a moment, watching the children outside play—a couple of the kids were pretending to be dogs, running around on all four and chasing after sticks other kids threw. The teacher on duty rushed over to stop them from putting the sticks in their mouths. Faye chucked a couple of sticks, but by this point there were more stick-throwers than pretend dogs to chase them, and hers were ignored.

"Oh, uh..." She checked her legal pad. "Nothing dangerous, so far. Shapeshifting. She keeps dying her hair, braiding and unbraiding it, and changing her clothes. I—yeah, the clothes shape-shift. They look like real clothing until they start shifting. And I just saw her patch up a wound, so self-healing. Mhm—no, while I was on the line with you, just in the last couple of minutes. I'm watching the kids play outside. Did you see the video attachment on my email? Of her braiding and unbraiding her hair?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, kind of like Medusa. That's what I was thinking."

She listened to another question. "No, the children aren't afraid of her—I think they're jealous of how she can 'play dress-up,' they call it. They—Oh! I should mention, she picked up an imaginary friend around the same time her powers developed. She calls it Chocolate Pudding. Some of the other kids say they've seen Chocolate Pudding, they think it's a ghost. That scared them."

The menagerie outside was expanding beyond dogs. One girl had started running around flapping her arms, cawing like an eagle; the teacher on duty had her hands full trying to keep the girl from climbing on the play equipment and jumping off. One boy yelled "I'm a dinosaur!" and started stomping across the playground with exaggeratedly large steps; a couple more joined in.

The social worker shrugged. "I don't—Chocolate Pudding could be anything, as far as we can tell. None of the staff has seen any such beast. We don't know if it's some sort of... of shared psychic hallucination? Or a shape-shifting trick she hasn't shown us yet, or just the kids being imaginative, or..." She trailed off. "Mhm. We don't know what to make of it."

Another kid yelled "I'm a dragon!" and charged at the first dinosaur, hissing loudly. Another cried, "We're a unicorn!"

"If she's not a fit for the Institute yet, then are you connected with any children's homes in the NYC area qualified to deal with gifted children? We don't want to foist her off on another home, but if she develops something that we don't have the support system to—" The social worker dropped her phone.

Faye was covered head to toe in a bubblegum pink second skin with a long mane of curly rainbow hair stretching down her back. Her eyes had been replaced by some cross between oversized anime eyes, multifaceted insect eyes, and sparkly rainbow-refracting diamonds. From the center of her forehead protruded a six-inch wicked-looking pearlescent horn.

They playground anarchy screeched to a halt as every child stared at her.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Faye grinned at them with wicked-looking pearlescent teeth.

Without breaking her gaze from the window, the social worker groped on the floor for her phone. "I've, uh, got something else you'll want to know."

The other children started screaming.

###

Peter Parker was awoken in the dead of night by a set of glowing white eyes. "What in the—!"

"Don't scream. We're not here to f—" Venom blocked Peter's foot. "We said we're not here to fight!"

"You're in my apartment!"

"You say that like we haven't been here before!"

"Yeah—usually to fight!"

They considered that, and shrugged. "Not this time. We're here—against our better judgment—to begrudgingly ask you to help us protect an innocent."

"At—" Peter looked for his clock, realized he'd knocked it off his bedside table in his flailing, and finished, "at whatever-it-is in the morning?!"

Venom shrugged again. "We couldn't sleep."

"You couldn't sleep, oy..." Peter rubbed his face. "Okay. Okay, just—is this going to require me to get out of bed?"

"No. Just to be vigilant."

"Yeah, yeah, all right. Vigilant's my middle name. Ol' Spider-Vigilant-Man." He rubbed his eyes. "What is it?"

Venom's face peeled back, exposing Eddie's shadowed face. "We lost a child."

"Oh." Peter spent a couple of seconds trying to muster up as much basic human empathy as he could after being dragged out of an extremely peaceful sleep. "I'm, uh... I'm so sorry. Was it—sorry, I'm trying to figure out how this works—was it a miscarriage, or...?"

"No! I mean we lost it. We dropped it somewhere around Times Square a month ago." With great indignation, he added, "While defending ourselves from you."

"Defending, you're the one who—" He flopped back and rubbed his eyes again. "Ugh. Okay. So are we—are we talking about another Carnage here? Please say no."

"That depends on the human with whom it's bonded. Assuming it found a human at all."

"Well—wow—in Times Square? It could've landed in a tourist group and be in China by now."

"That's why we need your help!" Eddie said, jabbing a finger uncomfortably close to Peter's chest. "You move in circles we don't. The Fantastic Four, the Avengers—we can search for our child in New York's underbelly, but your web reaches much higher. We need you to be on the lookout for it. And if you find it, find us. We are qualified to deal with it—whether it can still be raised as a hero, or is already corrupt and needs to be put down."

"Rrright." Peter pushed Eddie's hand away. The symbiote stretching over Eddie's knuckles briefly clung to the ridges of Peter's fingerprints. Yuck. "You sure you don't just want me to—y'know—turn a flamethrower on it and let you know when the problem's solved?"

"No!" And Eddie was gone, hidden again behind a mass of snarling fangs. "We don't know yet that it's another Carnage! We will judge it. If there's any innocence left in it, we want to—to try to save it."

At another time, Peter might have argued against the wisdom of "saving" a parasite for any reason—but it was half past can't-see-his-clock a.m. and he was tired. "Okay," he said. "All right, you got it. If I find a bundle of bouncing baby bile, I'll—uh—track you down, I guess—"

"Leave us a message," Venom insisted. "At the bell tower. Where you were divorced and we were wed. We'll check there nightly."

Divorced. Peter let that word echo nightmarishly in his head a few times. "Got it. Bell tower."

"We'll be waiting." With that, Venom climbed off Peter's bed and vanished into the night.

They'd been gone for half a minute before Peter asked, "Did you break in through my window?"

###

The workers at the children's home just didn't know what to do with Faye.

They'd made what adjustments they could. They'd switched out the alarm clock for a radio alarm in her room when its shrill buzzing made her scream in pain and caused strange neon colors to ripple across her skin, and later they hurried her outside under a jacket when an older kid pulled a fire alarm to the same effect. The door buzzer from the entrance that prospective parents used—which played through speakers along the whole length of the main hall and was audible from nearly the whole building—had the same effect, but they didn't have the budget to replace it with a different bell. They'd had to turn off the buzzer completely and tape a note to the door telling visitors that the buzzer was broken and asking them to knock, with a number underneath to text if nobody heard the knock. They were doing the best they could to help Faye.

But they didn't know how to handle biting. Bad enough when the normal kids did it—normal kids didn't have inch long daggers in their mouths.

"Faye, sweetie," her teacher said gently, "you hurt Martin very badly. You know that, don't you?"

Arms crossed tightly, staring at her lap, kicking her feet, Fay nodded sullenly. She'd hidden her face behind a layer of tie-dye rainbow skin without a mouth, which she'd taken to doing (colors subject to change) when she didn't want to talk.

"I'm not mad," said the teacher, who was more terrified than anything, "but I need to to understand why."

"We're hungry." Her voice was muffled behind the mask.

That was the worst possible answer. "Faye, you can't—you can't eat your friends."

"Yes we can."

"You shouldn't," the teacher said quickly. "I saw you pushing your lunch around instead of eating it today. Wouldn't you be less hungry if you ate your lunch? Then you won't want to hurt your friends?"

"It was mac and cheese! We don't want mac and cheese!" She kicked her feet more agitatedly.

In danger of getting kicked in the knees, the teacher scooted slightly back. "What do you want for lunch?"

Faye slammed her hands down on the edge of her seat and her mouth peeled open like a zipper, revealing three rows of fangs, and roared, "Chocolate Pudding wants chocolate!"

The teacher stared at her, mouth open. Already knowing this was a fight she was going to lose, she said, "Faye, honey, a growing girl can't live on dessert—"

She started wailing.

###

"Are you good with kids, Peter?" J. Jonah Jameson asked.

"Oh, yeah, kids think I'm pretty cool," said Peter, thinking of all the little Spider-Mans he'd seen wandering around last Halloween.

"Great. Got a human interest story we need a couple of pictures for," Jameson said. He passed over a piece of paper with an address and several names. "Underfunded orphanage stuck with a mutant girl."

"'Stuck with'? Hey, now—"

"Not like that. Their funding isn't good enough to let them add a specialist to their staff, and the only two places in the state that are qualified to take mutant kids are overcrowded. I'm hoping if we whip up some public furor over this poor kid we can get 'em some donations—maybe shame legislature into increasing funding all around." He pointed at Peter. "So I want you to make Miss Fletcher look cute as hell, got it?"

"Yessir." Relieved Jameson wasn't asking him to vilify an orphaned child, Peter looked over the address.

"And see if you can get her to uh... 'play dress-up' for the camera." Jameson waved a hand vaguely. "They said it's some sort of shapeshifting? We won't use 'em if they're weird enough to rile up the anti-mutant crowd, but if it's cute maybe it'll tug a few heartstrings and film's cheap. Just get some normal shots as well."

"Will do!" Peter headed out the door, plotting his subway route to the children's home.

An hour later, Peter was standing alone in the children's home playground, wondering if he should leave a tip with the FBI for the Anti-Symbiote Task Force... or leave a note for Eddie Brock.

Which one did he trust to treat a preschooler better?

###

The teachers were practically crawling up the walls.

Faye was literally crawling up the walls.

And camouflaging with the wallpaper.

And tipping over bunk beds.

And kicking through wood doors.

And tearing up furniture with her unicorn horn.

Most incidents were the result of normal four-year-old rambunctious play, or the expected tantrums that came from being tired, hungry, or overwhelmed. But normal play and tantrums attached to super strength and a fluctuating array of sharp spikes were disasters waiting to happen. It was a miracle they hadn't had any more incidents as bad as Martin's hospital stay.

Half of Faye's diet was chocolate bars now. They didn't know if that was making things better or worse.

The last thing the head social worker needed was to open the door to her office and be greeted by the sight of Venom—whose muscles looked even bigger in person—sitting in one of the chairs usually reserved for prospective parents, one foot hooked over the other knee, grinning like the world's happiest shark. "Hello," he said.

The head social worker gaped. Venom stared expectantly at her. She whispered, "Hi."

"My other and I are looking to adopt," Venom said cheerfully. "Or, more precisely, to reclaim custody. We have reason to believe one of our children was mistakenly put up for adoption. A terrible error—we've been searching frantically for our darling child for weeks!"

The social worker mentally ran over the various manifestations of Faye's "mutation," working back to the day she's come home with green hair—and her teacher had shakily recounted the close encounter between their van and a super fight. "Oh."

Venom's smile twitched wider. "I see you know who it is! Is it our family resemblance?" His teeth gleamed hideously white as he gestured toward her seat behind her desk, as though commanding her to be seated so they could begin negotiations.

She didn't budge. "Please," she said, "don't hurt anyone here. All we have here are children, and they've already been through so much—"

"Madam, we would never!" Venom placed a hand on his chest, over the head of his white spider symbol. "We are a protector of the innocent! And who could be more innocent than poor, sweet children longing for a family, and the kind-hearted staff that care for them?" He paused. "But we're not leaving without our child." He gestured again toward her chair.

This time, she thought maybe she should take it.

As she sat, Venom asked, "What have you been calling our child?"

"Her name is Faye Fletcher."

For a moment, this answer seemed to puzzle Venom; but then he said, as though talking to himself, "Ah, yes; quite right. She must mean..." He leaned forward slightly, fixing the social worker with what she could tell even with Venom's blank white eyes must have been a piercing stare. "And what has Faye been calling her other?"

###

It was the fastest and most wildly illegal adoption in the history of the NYC Administration for Children's Services. The terrified social worker informed Venom of the thirty hour parenting class most parents were required to take before adopting a child, as well as the five hour supplement for parents taking in mutants—although at this point she no longer had any idea whether that information would be at all helpful for Faye—and Venom reassured her so sincerely that he would attend the first class he could find that she actually believed him.

Even if he didn't go, she was sure he'd have a better idea of how to care for Faye than any of them did. And that instinct was only reinforced when he suddenly lifted his head and turned toward the door as though he'd picked up a familiar scent a full fifteen seconds before Faye came barreling into the office.

With reflexes so fast he almost looked like a blur, he dropped to one knee and spread his arms just in time to catch Faye in a great bear hug, the both of them wearing identical fangy grins. "We knew you'd still be an innocent," he said, holding her out by the shoulders to take a good look at her, taking her in from horn tip down to pink feet. "Unicorns are always innocent. Isn't that what you are, a sweet little unicorn?"

Faye giggled, sounding like a girl her age should for the first time in days.

When they left, Venom carrying Faye Fletcher Brock (and Chocolate Pudding) in his arms, he'd grown a gleaming white unicorn horn to match hers.

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Fic also available on AO3, link in my description. If you enjoyed the fic, I’d appreciate a reblog or comment!