DRUNK SYMBROCK WOULD BE SO GOOD THOUGH.

robotfvckers:

We are out of drink, Eddie.

Eddie squints at the bottle in his hands and frowns. He tips it back with a defeated swing, catching the last drops of beer on his tongue before tossing the bottle away where it clatters against the others.

His chin settles onto his chest as he flips through his phone. Anne. Anne laughing over dinner. Anne kissing his cheek on New Year’s. Anne sleeping, her hair mussed, a glimmer of drool wetting her pillow. Anne clutching her bare chest, offering herself with a wicked, beautiful smile. Eddie groans.

We miss her.

He rubs his face and collapses against his ratty couch. If Eddie closes his eyes, his mind swims, emotions dulled like nails dragged against his clothes, felt but not painful. Venom’s quiet presence thrums, an ambiance like white noise warming his bones.

But we can give you what you need.

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