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themaskedwriter · 5 years

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Fairytale Symbiosis (with a side of world domination, of course)

Platonic! Eddie Brock x reader, martial arts! Reader (who, for story purposes is short and a teenager.)

Warnings: swearing, body horror (a bit, pretty mild), symbiotes, martial arts, imprisonment, carnivores, inappropriate humor, basically anything from the movie Venom will apply here. VENOM SPOILERS

Synopsis: Y/N has always hated the entitled, world-destroying, no-soul types- and Carlton Drake fits that description perfectly. Naturally she sneaks into his lab intending to do some damage, but gets much more than she bargained for. This isn’t a war she can sit out of, not when world domination is at stake, so helping Eddie and Venom is the natural choice…for her. Her symbiote, however, may have other ideas.

CLUE: If adorable symbiote fluff isn’t what you’re looking for, I dabble in plenty of other fandoms- my blog is a pretty creative mix of many things, including my animals- one of which is referenced quite often in this little fic (little, by my standards, that is.)

word count: 2607. will probably be continued on my account, once revealed.

–

A Host. It needs a host- badly.

The containment tank walls are as bare as usual as it paces back and forth, sliding along the substance, slamming against it every few seconds. It’s hard to breathe in there: hard without a host.

Homeless, the Drake man calls them- the hosts he brings as offerings. Their fear when it takes over is palpable. The emotion leaves a taste in its mouth that drives it to the brink, but just as it thinks it will be satisfied, the body dies. The host dies. None of them have the fight in them that it requires.

“Open it.” Carlton orders as the newest prospect finally looks at it.

It slides out, creeping toward the human, the pheromones in the air enticing, empowering, delicious-

The back door to the lab slams open, admitting four security guards holding a girl between them.

It doesn’t look, just slips up the smooth cloth of the man’s pants. Beneath it, the human quivers in fear. It wishes it could drool…soon, soon, but the fear- the fear is so palatable, so tangible…

A shout. It pauses, looks.

The girl moves so fast the other humans have no chance, but to its trained eyes…

Jiu-jitsu, itthinks, karate, muy-thai, as the girl wraps her legs around the neck of one security guard, using her body to flip him onto the floor. Blood spurts as his head slams into the ground, but she’s unaffected, already moving. The second security guards’ arm breaks under her touch before the third shoots a taser into her back. Can’t be more than a youth, itthinks, noting the height and weight differences between her and the others. Not ideal…but that attitude, that skill…useful.

It absorbs into the host offered to him as the girl drops to her knees, fighting through the electricity to rip the taser cords from her back. Flesh is ripped as well, but she screams and throws a punch.

“Why did you bring her here?” Carlton Drake demands, watching the girl as she tries to get up on legs that waver. She glares daggers at him, spitting blood. He does not bother to flinch, doesn’t even smile when she’s physically restrained by the guards- who are more careful this time.

“We found her sneaking through the containment area, sir.” One says. He gives the girl a solid shake.

“I’m lost,” she growls, spitting blood once more. “Dunno how I got here. Dunno where here is.”

It can smell her lie. She knows exactly where she is.

“Kill her.” Drake commands, turning back to his experiment- to them.

“I want her.” Chaos snarls, its body and the humans’ flickering back and forth. Even as the body fails, even as it drops to the floor and the klyntar steps out of the crumpled skin, it watches her.

She hides her fear well.

Drake jerks his head and it’s done- she is dragged, incapacitated, into what it’s come to consider its cell, then thrown to her knees before it.

Chaos pulls itself up before her as the door closes, watching her body shake. She stares defiantly back at it, her fists clenched.

For a second, girl and symbiote watch each other. Drake, on the other side of the glass-like material, seems perplexed. Chaos, however, almost can’t do it.

As much as it’s always been the perfect soldier, even it has limits- and it can’t help but to think this girl is too pure for it, too innocent, too young. After all, where it comes from, the young are prized above all. it doesn’t want to take her if she doesn’t want to be taken. Her fear is unlike anything it’s ever smelled; it’s tinged with anger and resilience.

But it can’t wait any longer, it’s already gone too long without a functioning host, not some drugged-up addict whose body was bordering on death even without the klyntar.

Chaos, the largest and most deadly of the symbiotes, touches the girls’ hand gently at first, sliding from her fingers to her palm, up her wrist and forearm, to her bicep. She quivers, breathing hard and fast, but she does not scream. I do not want to hurt you, it whispers against her mind; she jerks at first, eyes widening in surprise. it can sense her thoughts going a million miles a second- she knows there is no fighting, but she has not given up. She’s already thinking of revenge. I do not want to do this without…how do you say? Permission.

Her quivering stops. Confusion replaces fear as it gives her a vision of what they can achieve together- it can already sense that she’s a perfect match- perfect as if born to it.

“No one has even asked before.” She murmurs, eyes darting up to Drake, who watches with fascination as Chaos curls around her arm. She takes a deep breath, lets it out through her teeth. Her gaze remains locked on Drake as she consents- then as Chaos slips into her body like a glove.

She screams in rage, its voice echoing hers as they fuse, symbiote and host, one.

“Chaos,” it growls through her mouth. “I am Chaos.”

Drake’s eyes light up like a child on Christmas morning, watching as Chaos envelops its new host, its perfect host. Her body, small but wrapped and corded in muscle, disappears under it as it takes over, protecting and defending her.

What now? She asks it.

Now we bond. Itreplies to her and her only, receding into her chest. Now we plan.

–

HUNGRY. it snarls, angry at everything. Caged…caged like a beast. Caged like a dog. Not a dog. NOT A DOG.

“Chaos,” you murmur, eyes closed as you meditate, “not helping.” Then, to the space between your minds, I’ve been caged too, remember? We will get out. We will get out of here and leave this place behind us, forever.

It goes eerily quiet.

What aren’t you telling me? It’s been three days, three long days since you were thrown into the cell, since scientists have started poking and prodding at you, watching you around the clock, monitoring your vitals. You feel like a lab rat and being so damn close to Carlton Drake isn’t helping; you’re within strangling range if you could just get out of there.

We will eat him first. Chaos says, dodging your question. You sigh. It’s always the same with it.

What happened to no secrets? You ask the klyntar -whose species had been revealed to you during a long, boring night- as it wraps around you, manifesting in coils like a snake.

This, itreplies, a hint of sadness to its gravelly voice, this I cannot tell you.

Outside of your cell, there’s movement. Drake.

Riot. Chaos growls, perking up.

“Let them out.” Drake commands. His words as their law, the scientist standing beside him does as asked and opens the door. You stand, Chaos guiding your movements as you stand before him. Your fingers twitch to be around his throat, the backstabbing, murdering, all around awful person- but Chaos recognizes the one it’s been trained to follow all of its life and so it holds you back.

Drake’s smirk makes Chaos’ control falter. “Hungry?” he asks, gesturing to the homeless man down the hall, oblivious to the conversation.

Chaos smiles, but you don’t. we can’t eat him, he’s innocent.

He’s food.

You thought I was food when you first saw me. Now we’re besties.

Silence. Then, we must do as Riot commands.

So you take orders from it without question? I thought you weren’t a dog.

It snarls, puffing up at your comment. I was born and bred to obey him.

You are your own being. No one can control you.

A pause. Isn’t that what you are trying to do, little human?

I am trying to help you. It’s not exactly easy.

It scans your mind, finding images of the unfortunate, the kids made homeless because of their sexuality, their gender identity, because of circumstances out of their control. It sees your own struggles, the perseverance. For a second, it thinks of how easily you accepted its pronouns, the tiny nuance to the English language it had deemed very important, thinks of your banter, your acceptance of another species in your body. It sees your drive, and something in the symbiote is moved by it.

You’re making me soft. Itmurmurs to you.

I’m giving you a conscience.

We must do whatever it takes to get out of here.

…fine. But I don’t have to like it.

It walks your body over to the homeless man, lets the human underestimate you. Lets him think you’re not a threat. Then it takes over, swiftly killing the human before it can feel any pain.

Compromise, it thinks, knowing Riot will never be able to tell the difference and wondering when exactly it became your protector instead of its leaders’. An ideal shift of that magnitude couldn’t’ve happened without notice, surely, except it did. And it cannot be bothered to care.

– Your chance comes quite quickly; with both Riot and Drake believing that Chaos is in control of you instead of just inhabiting your body, you are given all of the freedoms that the symbiote had on its home planet- and while you know you won’t have a chance at killing Drake, Chaos assures you that Venom (who recently escaped, hence the added security in the form of you,) would do quite nicely as a distraction. With its display of blatant disregard, Chaos was beginning to wonder if Riot’s concerns were, in the end, based in truth. Were the humans truly a dangerous species, despite all of the klyntar blustering? It curls inside your chest, a seething biomass, slowly learning your internal functions the same way it learned from the other hosts- the ones whose bodies attacked it at first contact- and it thinks that maybe, just maybe, humans may be worth saving.

Atleast one of them is.

Chaos keeps guard as you walk out of the front door of Carlton Drake’s building, unmolested by the guards who’d only recently thrown you into a cell. It watches, silently, bristling at every new sound, until you are blocks away.

“We made it,” you whisper as you stop, leaning against the brick façade of a building a mile from the lab.

We, Chaos murmurs questioningly, so quiet that you can’t hear. It wonders at the feeling in what would be its chest. We.

And just like that, you have the undying loyalty of a klyntar.

To your habitat then? Chaos asks you, snaking over your arms under the black jacket you wore. It coils around your wrists, squeezing gently before absorbing back into your skin.

You snicker. “It’s called a home, silly, but yes. Home.” For a second you walk toward your small loft apartment, but your steps quickly falter. Chaos senses your sudden apprehension.

We will pack what you need and leave, they will know where you live. We cannot stay long.

So you don’t stay.

–

Eddie Brock, once a journalist, is used to people thinking he’s insane. At least borderline. But he’s never been insane like this- looking over his shoulder every two seconds, knowing that Venom is right there, feeling the symbiote in his every blood vessel, every pore. It’s like tripping on acid, the feeling of the black sludge all over and yet nowhere.

“Whose idea was it, huh?” Eddie growls, head twitching to the side as if he were talking to someone who isn’t there- the action gains him a few odd looks, but he doesn’t really care, stomping down the street anyway. “The kiss, I mean.”

Not important, Venom says. How are we going to stop Riot? He has things we’ve never seen-

“Not my problem, V, I told you I was done after all of that-“

World domination isn’t your problem?

Eddie growls, turning into a side alley that cuts through to the next street over. It’s a long alley, long enough to be creepy, but he’s got a symbiote. What do the criminals have, guns? Laughable. He’s never been afraid of dark alleys anyway, not truly. “You or Anne? It had to be someone. There are plenty of other ways to get-“He cuts himself off as a small, hooded figure steps out in front of him. Venom is assessing before Eddie can even blink. “Can I help you?” She’s standing square in the way, hands in her jeans pockets, hood shading her entire face.

Food? Venom asks.

“No- Eddie snaps. The girl doesn’t flinch.

“You’re the one who needs help, Eddie.” She finally says, looking up at him. “With your little problem.”

Normally, when someone says that to him, it means he’s got an awkward boner- so naturally he’s surprised for a second, frowning at her as she stands there like it’s perfectly natural to accuse someone of indecency. He opens his mouth but doesn’t know what to say for a change, and Venom’s silence doesn’t really help. Finally, his mind catches up…somewhat. “What?” he splutters, walking quickly towards her. “Who are you?”

A few steps away, Venom breaks its silence.

Eddie, STOP.

And Eddie is pulled to a sudden halt, blinking at the unassuming teenager in front of him.

Venom envelops him in a heartbeat, leaving Eddie no time to protest the change. The girl, once again, doesn’t even blink- and that’s when Eddie understands. Riot? He asks his symbiote.

“Chaos.” Venom says to the small girl. “Why are you here?”

A grey-blue head manifests over her shoulder, staring up at Venom with those opalescent white eyes they all share. It’s all fangs, white veins webbing over it like scars. Even still, Eddie can’t help but notice that it’s severely less ugly than Riot. But then he sees the girl who the head is connected to, and he wonders why he didn’t see her in the lab. She would’ve been hard to miss, simply because she looks like she’d beat the crap out of anyone who stood in her way, simply by the steely gaze.

“Venom.” Chaos greets the klyntar. “It seems we have both found a host.” It squints. “Did you pull yours out of the trash?”

To its credit, Venom only shrugs. “If you are here to insult me, you can leave. I am perfectly happy continuing to ignore you.”

Chaos grins, a feral grin that somehow speaks of bloodlust. “We are here to help you defeat Riot.”

Eddie, inside of Venom’s protective shell, can feel the shock that rolls through his symbiote. “You?” Venom asks, deforming into just a head, mirroring Chaos himself. “But you’re-“

“Was. I was Riot’s right hand.”

“Literally?” Eddie squeaks, picturing that monstrous right hand separating itself into a pile of goo-

Venom wants to believe Chaos, it really does, but its seen the other klyntar in action, and finds it rather hard to believe that it could turn on its leader so quickly.

“I could’ve killed you fourty-three different ways by now.” Chaos helpfully points out. “But I haven’t. Because we have a common goal.” It glances at its host, who raises her hand to stroke down its cheek. Something unbelievably like love passes over the grey biomass. “I’ve found something worth rebellion.”

“Alright.” Venom says, darting its tongue over sharp teeth. “Where do we start?”

–

Later, when everything is said and done and Eddie is finally somewhat alone on his couch, staring at the wall in quiet contemplation, he only has one thought.

He takes a sip of his well-earned beer and sits back.

“So she’s got one up her ass too.”

#fic

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som3thingcr3ative · 5 years

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Fairytale Symbiosis

It’s finally home! This was posted on the lovely @themaskedwriter ‘s blog, and now it is here on mine! Chapter two will be posted very soon!

Fairytale Symbiosis (with a side of world domination, of course)

Platonic! Eddie Brock x reader, martial arts! Reader (who, for story purposes is short and a teenager.)

Warnings: swearing, body horror (a bit, pretty mild), symbiotes, martial arts, imprisonment, carnivores, inappropriate humor, basically anything from the movie Venom will apply here. VENOM SPOILERS

Tags are open!

A Host. It needs a host- badly.

The containment tank walls are as bare as usual as it paces back and forth, sliding along the substance, slamming against it every few seconds. It’s hard to breathe in there: hard without a host.

“Open it.” Carlton orders as the newest prospect finally looks at it.

It slides out, creeping toward the human, the pheromones in the air enticing, empowering, delicious-

The back door to the lab slams open, admitting four security guards holding a girl between them.

A shout. It pauses, looks.

The girl moves so fast the other humans have no chance, but to its trained eyes…

Jiu-jitsu, it thinks, karate, muy-thai, as the girl wraps her legs around the neck of one security guard, using her body to flip him onto the floor. Blood spurts as his head slams into the ground, but she’s unaffected, already moving. The second security guards’ arm breaks under her touch before the third shoots a taser into her back. Can’t be more than a youth, it thinks, noting the height and weight differences between her and the others. Not ideal…but that attitude, that skill…useful.

“We found her sneaking through the containment area, sir.” One says. He gives the girl a solid shake.

“I’m lost,” she growls, spitting blood once more. “Dunno how I got here. Dunno where here is.”

It can smell her lie. She knows exactly where she is.

“Kill her.” Drake commands, turning back to his experiment- to them.

She hides her fear well.

Drake jerks his head and it’s done- she is dragged, incapacitated, into what it’s come to consider its cell, then thrown to her knees before it.

Chaos pulls itself up before her as the door closes, watching her body shake. She stares defiantly back at it, her fists clenched.

For a second, girl and symbiote watch each other. Drake, on the other side of the glass-like material, seems perplexed. Chaos, however, almost can’t do it.

But it can’t wait any longer, it has already gone too long without a functioning host, not some drugged-up addict whose body was bordering on death even without the klyntar.

Chaos, the largest and most deadly of the symbiotes, touches the girls’ hand gently at first, sliding from her fingers to her palm, up her wrist and forearm, to her bicep. She quivers, breathing hard and fast, but she does not scream. I do not want to hurt you, it whispers against her mind; she jerks at first, eyes widening in surprise. It can sense her thoughts going a million miles a second- she knows there is no fighting, but she has not given up. She’s already thinking of revenge. I do not want to do this without…how do you say? Permission.

Her quivering stops. Confusion replaces fear as it gives her a vision of what they can achieve together- it can already sense that she’s a perfect match- perfect as if born to it.

“No one has ever asked before.” She murmurs, eyes darting up to Drake, who watches with fascination as Chaos curls around her arm. She takes a deep breath, lets it out between her teeth. Her gaze remains locked on Drake as she consents- then as Chaos slips into her body like a glove.

She screams in rage, its voice echoing hers as they fuse, symbiote and host, one.

“Chaos,” it growls through her mouth. “I am Chaos.”

What now? She asks it.

Now we bond. It replies to her and her only, receding into her chest. Now we plan.

HUNGRY. It snarls, angry at everything. Caged…caged like a beast. Caged like a dog. Not a dog. NOT A DOG.

It goes eerily quiet.

We will eat him first. Chaos says, dodging your question. You sigh. It’s always the same with it.

What happened to no secrets? You ask the klyntar -whose species had been revealed to you during a long, boring night- as it wraps around you, manifesting in coils like a snake.

This, it replies, a hint of sadness to its gravelly voice, this I cannot tell you.

Outside of your cell, there’s movement. Drake.

Riot. Chaos growls, perking up.

“Let them out.” Drake commands. His words as their law, the scientist standing beside him does as asked and opens the door. You stand, Chaos guiding your movements as you position yourself before him. Your fingers twitch to be around his throat, the backstabbing, murdering, all around awful person- but Chaos recognizes the one it has been trained to follow all its life and so it holds you back.

Drake’s smirk makes Chaos’ control falter. “Hungry?” he asks, gesturing to the homeless man down the hall, oblivious to the conversation.

Chaos smiles, but you don’t. We can’t eat him, he’s innocent.

He’s food.

You thought I was food when you first saw me. Now we’re besties.

Silence. Then, we must do as Riot commands.

So you take orders from it without question? I thought you weren’t a dog.

It snarls, puffing up at your comment. I was born and bred to obey him.

You are your own being. No one can control you.

A pause. Isn’t that what you are trying to do, little human?

I am trying to help you. It’s not exactly easy.

You’re making me soft. It murmurs to you.

I’m giving you a conscience.

We must do whatever it takes to get out of here.

…fine. But I don’t have to like it.

It walks your body over to the homeless man, lets the human underestimate you. Lets him think you’re not a threat. Then it takes over, swiftly killing the human before he can feel any pain.

Compromise, it thinks, knowing Riot will never be able to tell the difference and wondering when exactly it became your protector instead of its leaders’. An ideal shift of that magnitude couldn't have happened without notice, surely, except it did. And it cannot be bothered to care.

Your chance comes quite quickly; with both Riot and Drake believing that Chaos is in control of you instead of just inhabiting your body, you are given all of the freedoms that the symbiote had on its home planet- and while you know you won’t have a chance at killing Drake, Chaos assures you that Venom (who recently escaped, hence the added security in the form of you,) would do quite nicely as a distraction. With its display of blatant disregard, Chaos was beginning to wonder if Riot’s concerns were, in the end, based in truth. Were the humans truly a dangerous species, despite all the klyntar blustering? It curls inside your chest, a seething biomass, slowly learning your internal functions the same way it learned from the other hosts- the ones whose bodies attacked it at first contact- and it thinks that maybe, just maybe, humans may be worth saving.

At least one of them is.

“We made it,” you whisper as you stop, leaning against the brick façade of a building a mile from the lab.

We, Chaos murmurs questioningly, so quiet that you can’t hear. It wonders at the feeling in what would be its chest. We.

And just like that, you have the undying loyalty of a klyntar.

To your habitat then? Chaos asks you, snaking over your arms under the black jacket you wore. It coils around your wrists, squeezing gently before absorbing back into your skin.

You snicker. “It’s called a home, silly, but yes. Home.” For a second you walk toward your small loft apartment, but your steps quickly falter. Chaos senses your sudden apprehension.

We will pack what you need and leave, they will know where you live. We cannot stay long.

So you don’t stay.

Not important, Venom says. How are we going to stop Riot? He has things we’ve never seen-

“Not my problem, V, I told you I was done after all of that-“

World domination isn’t your problem?

Food? Venom asks.

“No-“ Eddie snaps. The girl doesn’t flinch.

“You’re the one who needs help, Eddie.” She finally says, looking up at him. “With your little problem.”

A few steps away, Venom breaks its silence.

Eddie, STOP.

And Eddie is pulled to a sudden halt, blinking at the unassuming teenager in front of him.

Venom envelops him in a heartbeat, leaving Eddie no time to protest the change. The girl, once again, doesn’t even blink- and that’s when Eddie understands. Riot? He asks his symbiote.

“Chaos.” Venom says to the small girl. “Why are you here?”

“Venom.” Chaos greets the klyntar. “It seems we have both found a host.” It squints. “Did you pull yours out of the trash?”

To its credit, Venom only shrugs. “If you are here to insult me, you can leave. I am perfectly happy continuing to ignore you.”

Chaos grins, a feral grin that somehow speaks of bloodlust. “We are here to help you defeat Riot.”

Eddie, inside of Venom’s protective shell, can feel the shock that rolls through his symbiote. “You?” Venom asks, deforming into just a head, mirroring Chaos himself. “But you’re-“

“Was. I was Riot’s right hand.”

“Literally?” Eddie squeaks, picturing that monstrous right hand separating itself into a pile of goo-

Venom wants to believe Chaos, it really does, but it has seen the other klyntar in action, and finds it rather hard to believe that it could turn on its leader so quickly.

“I could’ve killed you forty-three different ways by now.” Chaos helpfully points out. “But I haven’t. Because we have a common goal.” It glances at its host, who raises her hand to stroke down its cheek. Something unbelievably like love passes over the grey biomass. “I’ve found something worth rebellion.”

“Alright.” Venom says, darting its tongue over sharp teeth. “Where do we start?”

Later, when everything is said and done and Eddie is finally somewhat alone on his couch, staring at the wall in quiet contemplation, he only has one thought.

He takes a sip of his well-earned beer and sits back.

“So she’s got one up her ass too.”

#the masked writer #symbiote #venom #venom the movie #eddie brock / reader #platonic! eddie brock / reader #martial arts! reader #/reader #chaos the symbiote #symbiote fluff #angst #fluff #multi chapter fic #monsterfucker #implied relationships #future symbiote x reader #mostly canon compliant

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timeisacephalopod · 5 years

Note

AU-College. Tony/?. Tony already 17 and working on yet another doctorate has just returned from home after a school break. He's covered in bruises but he doesn't bother to hide them because he honestly believes no one notices or cares. Always on edge and doing anything and everything to forget the pain, Tony is confused when people he doesn't even know start to ask if he's okay and if he needs any help. Laughing in their face he replied. "You can't help, no one can." (I feel dark today sry?)

So I went with Tony/ Eddie Brock (from Venom if you don’t know). Eddie is an investigative journalist (or in this case he’s in school to be one) and tbh I have no freaking clue how journalism school works (journalism school?) so I’ve sort of made it work like humanities courses? Idk, just accept my bad plot needs bois. Also I altered the ‘you can’t help’ line to better fit the scenario, but the sentiment is the same.

As the prompt suggests, warning abuse references.

Eddie needs a story and since his asshole prof likes corporations a lot more than he does that’s out. Which throws a bunch of stuff in his usual wheelhouse out with it. He thought homelessness was a good topic but got told that wasn’t news, which he doesn’t understand because to his knowledge homelessness isn’t solved. Then he thought hey, school shootings happen basically every other day- they like to say if it bleeds it leads and a whole lot of kids seem to be dying. But he got told the news is already oversaturated with that. So he thought fine, maybe police brutality, that’s violent and not on the news much but he got told that was too controversial and what the fuck is the news for if not to be controversial?

Now he’s stuck with the task of finding a story his irritatingly picky prof will like and to add insult to the injury one of his classmates got approved to write about cryptocurrency. What the fuck is that? Stupid, in Eddie’s opinion. His topics were important, real world issues and this dumbass over here gets to write shit about something no one cares about. Predictable.

He’s eating his muffin angrily and wondering if he can somehow convince his prof to let him write something about climate change and the fact that no matter what an individual does, its still 100 companies doing seventy percent of the damage so why is the news focusing on individuals over corporations when he spots a potentially easier sell. Boy genius, way ahead of his time, and well loved by the American public. He has no interest in Tony Stark whatsoever but there has to be a story there, something underneath that irritatingly arrogant rich kid veneer that’s worth writing about so he decides to make a move.

Tony hates waking up before noon on any given day, assuming he went to bed at all, and dealing with people? He doesn’t like that at any time of day so when he’s minding his own damn business only to have some random guy with porn star lips- he swears to god that’s the only accurate description- he’s already annoyed. “Who the hell are you? Never mind, I don’t actually care,” he says in an irritable tone before going to turn back around but the guy takes his brief interruption to his day in a totally different direction than Tony was expecting.

“Nice shiner, where’d you get that?” he asks and Tony freezes for a moment, used to that fleeting feeling that someone might guess at the truth before realizing no one cares anyways.

He rolls his eyes, “you wouldn’t care if I told you, and even if you did its not like there’s anything you could do about it. Or anyone else, for that matter.” Its not like he’s never said anything and not one time has anything come of it. Sometimes people laugh, actually, and Tony doesn’t know what’s worse. People not hearing him at all or people hearing just fine, but they make a joke out of it. Silence isn’t his thing, but he’s developed a thick skin in regards to how people treat him. Doesn’t have much of a choice, living under his father’s roof and in the public eye. Its amazing, Tony thinks, how fucking obvious his abuse is and no one seems to see what’s in front of their damn faces.

Something about his words seem to draw his companion’s attention though and Tony recognizes the look. “Are you a reporter?” he asks and the guy looks surprised for a half a second.

“Good instinct- but technically I’m still in school,” he says like Tony fucking cares about that.

“Yeah, fuck off,” he says bluntly. He’s got no time for another asshole looking to capitalize off the Tony Stark Story when none of them even get the damn story right.

“You have an interesting take on green energy. Only big name attached to it, too,” he says and Tony frowns.

“You know about my interest in green energy?” he asks. No one ever asks him about his passion project, they all want to know about the bombs and if Tony is honest he’s never really been comfortable with what his father’s company does. He knows the military has a use, and that there are protocols, and a bunch of other things his father has said over and over again but he still wonders what happens when things go wrong. Who’s responsibility is that? Does anyone have to take responsibility at all? His experiences tell him that powerful people don��t need to take responsibility for their actions ever, not if they can pay off the powers that be, and if the military is the same way, well. That brings a new layer of ethics to what SI does but Howard doesn’t care about ethics and Obadiah… he’s always been closer to Tony, but he doesn’t seem concerned with ethics either. Claims that’s the military’s job but Tony isn’t stupid. The military, all branches of it, make bad choices all the time. Which leads him back to who takes responsibility, if anyone.

Green energy is less ethically complicated and more necessary to the world, he thinks, and the projects are interesting and engaging. Tony finds blowing things up easy, but green energy provides a new avenue of engineering.

“Yeah, I keep up with what people are doing. Eddie Brock,” he says, extending his hand to Tony.

Green energy, it’d been a shot in the dark but he knows that Tony’s interest isn’t a passing one and its not congruent with his father’s company’s interests either. Whenever Howard is asked about his son’s projects he consistently tells them he has no interest whatsoever. So its strange that Tony has kept his focus for years, if Eddie’s passing interest in the subject is correct. What’s more strange is that mentioning it had immediately gotten him into Tony’s good graces. Anne tells him that he’s good at that, getting past people’s defenses without trying and he guesses that’s true.

Tony continuously talks around his family and Eddie does his best to try and get back to that because Elder Stark has got to be an interesting guy. Real asshole, he’s sure, but interesting. Tony won’t have any of it though and Eddie has to admit the green energy thing is interesting until he loses Eddie thanks to, put bluntly, being way smarter than him. And Tony’s no good at dumbing it down either, something even he freely admits.

They talk for a good amount of time before Tony grows tense again and Eddie knows why partially because of Tony’s reaction to his being a reporter- or wannabe reporter at the moment- and also because he isn’t stupid. “I’m not writing anything about this,” he tells Tony. “Not to be a dick, but none of this is interesting enough to write anything on anyways. You know how sensationalized media likes to be,” he says, shaking his head.

Something catches Tony’s attention in that because he perks up. “You don’t like that, the sensationalism?” he asks. Its more of a statement, but Eddie knows he’s prodding for a why. He’s done this a million times himself.

“Not really, no. If you want to tell a story, then do that- don’t make up all this crazy shit to make it sound more messed up than it is. Human flaw, thinking things need to hit some kind of extreme before we should have to care about it,” he shakes his head. “Leads to shoddy journalism because we’re pushed to make things sexier, more violent, more of whatever is actually there instead of just doing our jobs. Literally everything ever printed about you proves my point.”

Tony snorts, “you read stories on me?” he asks, incredulous.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Not like Tony Stark is an escapable name but Tony’s lips quirk up.

“No, and you’re not a fan. You talk about SI in a disapproving tone, you only know me from my green energy projects, and although you seem to know stuff about me its pop culture knowledge, not genuine interest.” Eddie raises an eyebrow because that’s a damn in depth analysis but Tony only smiles wider. “I’ve learned to separate out people who know me from fans and super fans. You don’t know me.”

Eddie laughs, “yeah, no one knows you. What we know is the consumable product that is Tony Stark- the celebrity brand. That’s not you, or even a version of you. That’s what’s sellable about you and half of that shit is probably made up. No seventeen year old is a ladies man and its kinda creepy that people even made that a selling point.” And kind of misogynistic too, but Eddie doesn’t mention that. Tony doesn’t seem all that stupid, he’s sure he’s gathered that awhile ago.

He watches his words win more trust, or an approximation of it, and Tony leans forward in interest. “You don’t like celebrity culture,” Tony says.

Hell no, he doesn’t. “Why the would I? We build these people up, put them on pedestals, and then get pissed off at them every five seconds when they do something human. We routinely dehumanize celebrities to a point where they stop knowing how to function because extreme fame clearly fucks you up- look at any child star trying to cope. Having a mental breakdown is now something we think is funny. Its fucked up that we do that to people- treat them in such a dehumanizing way that they seem to forget they’re human too. And that’s when we decide to take them down a notch because we’re mad that they accepted the pedestal we shoved them onto by force.” He shakes his head. Sure, he knows a little celebrity news, its not possible to avoid it, but he doesn’t pay any more than a passing attention to it. What normal shit celebrities are doing this week is none of his business.

Tony’s eyes are bright with interest, “fascinating opinion. Most people think we’re privileged, not disadvantaged.”

Eddie laughs, “of course you’re privileged- celebrities are stupid rich, and your opinions have actual influence over what people believe and that’s a position no one should take advantage of. But the cost is any semblance of privacy and your right to personhood- that’s one hell of a catch. And not one regular rich assholes share.” Fame isn’t something Eddie ever wants, not like normal celebrities anyways. If he’s got clout and fame in journalism he’s fine with that- he doesn’t mind if people know his name. But the kind of fame Tony has? Fuck that.

“And you aren’t going to print any of this conversation?” Tony asks, seemingly for clarification.

“Like I said- nothing sensational enough in this conversation to warrant an article. What am I going to write? ‘Tony Stark Likes Green Energy’? Boring,” he says and it actually kind of is without a project or an emotion to attach to it.

“And if I decided to continue talking to you?” he asks and yes, that’s the in he needs and fuck is that ever predatory. Journalism is like that though, always looking for the right fucked up moments to put on paper, or in this case, the right moments to be let in far enough to find those fucked up moments.

“I’m not going to print anything without asking you about it first,” he says, opting for honest. He’s sure something about Tony is interesting to print, and he’s got a feeling it’ll be about his family or maybe just his father, he’s not sure. But if Tony tells him not to print it he won’t. He’s not in the business of exploitation no matter how much journalists are pushed in that direction.

Rhodey’s got that look on his face and Tony knows exactly what he’s thinking before he even says anything. “He’s a nice guy,” Tony says in Eddie’s defense.

“If you have to say that he’s probably not that nice,” Rhodey points out.

“Actually its more like if he has to say that he’s probably not that nice,” Tony says. “And he is. Nice, I mean.” He’s been talking to Eddie for weeks and he’s funny, if a little sharp on the criticism. And nothing has appeared in the newspaper he’s interning with for the summer and the stories he is attached to, which aren’t many and none by name, are usually well written and truth based. Tony fact checked them all and learned a surprising amount about mental health that Eddie had been happy to fill him in more on.

“You sure? Because, no offense, but you have a bad habit of seeing the best in people,” Rhodey says.

Maybe, but Tony shrugs. “Yeah, I’m sure. He treats me like a person,” he says and he knows that shouldn’t be something he thinks of as a good thing. But when you’re famous its hard to find people who don’t at some point ask for your autograph, or a picture, or information on some weird personal detail they have no right to. Eddie hasn’t asked for any of those things and he could directly profit off any of that information. Tony has only ever met one other budding reporter- or full blown reporter for that matter- who’s treated him like that. And Christine… he and Christine have a love hate relationship.

Rhodey sighs, eyes going soft for a moment. “Tones. That’s not special,” he murmurs but that’s because he’s not had to deal with fame. The last time he went out into public without someone recognizing him he was six. After all that he’s kind of used to people acting super weird around him and Eddie doesn’t do that. Maybe it shouldn’t be a rarity, but it is.

“To you, maybe,” Tony says. “You’d like him, he hates the cops.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes but its lovingly. “I don’t hate cops, I just think they’re racist and that people should really deal with that problem.”

Tony is inclined to agree. “Fine, but Eddie has many opinions on cops, you’d get along. Actually Eddie has many opinions on like everything.” Eddie said most people find his opinionated nature irritating but Tony thinks its interesting, hearing him talk because his opinions are so contrary to everything he hears. Even Rhodey, who certainly has different opinions than his father on near everything, tends to be more reserved in letting his opinions be known. Eddie doesn’t care, he gives no fucks and is happy to let people know how he feels. He’s got numbers, too, usually or at least some kind of basis for his argument and Tony has always been fascinated with things that are different than what he normally sees. Its interesting to look into a world that’s so unlike his and see something new. That difference in how people see things, that’s the key to changing the world.

Eddie had been surprised by that opinion but Tony is under the impression that thinking outside the box is what leads to innovation and innovation always leads to change. Eddie had been surprised by how unthreatened he was by that too, but Tony thinks fear of change is based on fear rather than fact and sometimes a push into the unknown is a good thing. And, in regards to Eddie’s general arguments on social change, they already know that people having rights won’t make the sky fall. Only idiots assume it will and Tony has almost as little patience for that as Eddie does. Which is impressive when he’s probably the most anti-establishment person Tony has ever met.

Rhodey sighs, “great, an opinionated white guy. Never met one of those before,” Rhodey mumbles.

“Hey, I’m an opinionated white guy,” Tony says and Rhodey shakes his head.

“Yeah, but you’re my opinionated white guy so it’s different.”

Eddie had no idea what he was looking for when he combed the interviews. Truth be told he wasn’t sure he was looking for anything at the time but what he found was his story. Its shocking to him that no one has told it, minus Tony, who seems to have been screaming it since he was a small child but he’s got it nonetheless. Its not like he’s never seen the evidence of abuse, Tony is fucking brazen and barely even makes an effort to hide it and after watching way too many interviews Eddie wonders if this is his new way to all but scream for help only to have his pleas fall on an audience that doesn’t give a shit.

Its amazing, in the most horrifying of ways, that out of every interview Tony has ever done, and that is a lot, he has mentioned his father’s abuse in over eighty percent of them. And its hard to watch reporters gloss over it, like Tony’s abuse is some fucking quirky trait Tony has instead of a serious problem he’s clearly trying to get help for. But what’s worse is when people laugh. The first time it happened Eddie had been outraged. The third time it happened he’d been livid, and by the fifteenth time he decided that America is probably the shittiest country on earth. An exaggeration, he knows, but not by fucking much.

For years, most of Tony’s life really, Tony has been screaming for help only to have nothing happen. Or worse, people decide its something, but that something is a joke. Only problem is that now Tony knows no one cares, and if no one cares what’s the point in saying anything no matter how much he’s done his best to scream at everyone that he needs help. It makes Eddie’s job harder, but he’s actually talented at this part, more than his peers, so he knows how to get to the right spot to find the information he wants. The catch, of course, is that Tony needs to give him permission to do anything with the information he gets anyways. He feels skeezy enough digging around in Tony’s life trying to find shit to write about, he’s not just going to publish it without his permission. Even if he didn’t genuinely like Tony as a person, even if he hadn’t wanted to, he’d still ask. He’s not totally morally bankrupt, just enough to do his job.

Tony is curled up in a chair, large bruise on his shoulder clearly visible, holding a cup of what Eddie assumes is coffee. He’s never met anyone who drinks as much coffee as Tony and Dan is in med school. His blood is basically coffee. “You do not seem like the kind of guy to be a journalist,” Tony says and Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“What makes you think that?” he asks. Its not the first time he’s been told that, but if Tony gives him an actual answer it will be the first time he’s ever gotten a genuine reason why.

He shrugs, “journalism is… I don’t know, kind of predatory,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

Eddie lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, that’s true. Its the worst part of the job, actually, when you’re talking to people- usually about something personal- and they say something you know will look good in your article and you think ‘yeah, I got it!’ instead of being an actual person. That, and you have to ask for details instead of comforting them. But news is important, those stories are important. Me getting the right thing out there might mean people read what I wrote and start giving a shit about the problem in the article.” Doesn’t mean he likes that little reporter voice that tells him when he’s got a great quote, or that he’s stumbled onto something good and that he needs to keep digging. Sometimes he doesn’t care, corporations don’t have his sympathy, but people do. Its hard to ask for more details of what’s usually a pretty traumatic event so whatever he’s writing is sellable enough. And the whole notion of ‘sellable’ is another point of contention altogether.

“So you’re aware of the fact that you’re a vulture,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow.

“A vulture with a purpose,” Eddie corrects. “But yeah, the kind of reporters you deal with mostly are a bunch of bottom feeding pieces of shit who have no place in any kind of journalism with their shoddy ethics and pathetic puff pieces.” People who want to write stupid articles about some fucking laxative tea or whatever shouldn’t be in this business. And celebrity news shouldn’t even be a thing- there are better things to care about than Tony Cruise. Like maybe the fact that he’s in a cult and people play it off like a strange thing he does on the weekends. Eddie doesn’t understand how the hell they got here.

Tony lets out a small laugh. “Shit, tell me how you really feel,” he says, shaking his head.

“Well come on, there’s a million things I could write about you that are more interesting than the weirdly sexual image you have, and have had for years despite being an actual child. People don’t write anything interesting about you and you’re way more complicated that any piece of media makes you out to be.” Tony is always a power fantasy or the American Dream, not himself. And the sexual thing, that’s odd. Eddie usually only sees that with women but Tony got the short end of that stick despite gender, he guesses. Still creepy.

“Hey, excuse you, my eighteenth birthday is not that far away, I’m not a kid,” he says.

Eddie snorts, “that’s exactly what a kid would say.”

“Oh what, like you’re a shining example of an adult?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck no, I’m two kids in a trench coat pretending to be an adult,” he says. Which is what any self respecting adult his age would say. Not that he’s that much older than Tony, but he’s got enough experience to know he misses when he had no bills. And also that transitionary life phases fucking suck.

“Well, I probably have more life experience than you anyway,” Tony says, nose in the air and Eddie nods, seemingly surprising Tony.

“What? I didn’t graduate from MIT at fourteen, and I sure shit don’t have almost three PhDs. I’m half way through one degree. Plus I don’t have to deal with most of the shit you do, company or fame wise. Do wish had the financial perks though.” Tony leads one hell of a life of privilege no doubt, but it does come with some heavy prices. Being a minor doesn’t really help lighten any of those costs either. Not like Tony can just fuck off to another country to attempt ridding himself of his father, not for another four months.

Tony considers him for a long moment. “Given the chance what would you write about me?” he asks, changing the subject back to the initial subject.

Eddie doesn’t need much time to think about it. “Your interest in green energy, especially the science behind it. I mean an intellectual understanding- like the actual nitty gritty- is beyond me, but I get the broad strokes. Enough to know what you’re doing is world altering and no one is talking about it. I could do an article on fame, how that’s affected you. I can see the damage its left, the way you simultaneously gain privilege from your fame and become a victim of it.” He pauses, considers whether or not he wants to say it, but decides he might as well be up front. “But I’d probably wouldn’t write about you at all. I’d write about how Howard Stark abuses you and how no one seems to give a shit, even when you tell them point blank what’s happening. I watched a lot of interviews, I was shocked with how forthcoming you were. And how fucking bad at their jobs literally everyone who’s ever interviewed you is.”

For a long moment Tony just stares and Eddie has no idea if he misstepped or not because Tony is hard to read when he blanks out like this, but then Tony throws himself forward, hugging him tightly. “I honestly didn’t think anyone noticed that anymore,” he murmurs.

They do, Eddie knows people aren’t stupid enough to miss the bruises or Tony’s blasé attitude. But he doubts anyone either wants to stand up to Howard, or they get paid off by him. “They do. But money talks louder than you do,” he says softly.

Tony sighs. “Well, everyone does have a number,” he murmurs. Eddie knows what he means and honestly its sickening to him to know that’s true.

Tony waves a hand at the lab space with a flourish. “This is where the magic happens,” he says and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Its science, not magic you damn drama queen.” Tony is probably the most dramatic person he knows and that’s saying something considering some of his classmates.

“Party pooper,” Tony mumbles, shaking his head. Eddie gets a tour anyway though, and by the time Tony gets through the details he feels kind of like he walked into a science fiction novel. Its the AI, though, that tops it off. “JARVIS- or just a rather very intelligent system- is kind of my crown jewel. I got him done a few months ago and I’ve been studying how he learns,” he says, grinning.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Learns? Like a person?”

Tony shrugs, “more or less. His function is to be semi-autonomous, to predict the needs of the user before the user knows they need something. Before I know I need something, JARVIS has no commercial value.”

“Then why make it?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know shit about shit but he does know that that sounds like a lot of work with seemingly no payoff.

“Because I wanted to. And also not a lot of people have the time, money, and intelligence to just… create. I want to see what I can do, the full extent of it. Also, JARVIS is cool,” he says like that’s a reason. “And he’s my PhD thesis.”

PhD thesis, that’s interesting. “So like… how are you going to make this sucker not turn into Skynet?” he asks.

“Oh my god, why do humans always assume AIs want to kill the shit out of them or otherwise take over the world? I had JARVIS read YouTube comment sections to convince him humanity is a shitshow not worth enslaving,” he says bluntly and Eddie starts laughing.

“YouTube comment sections? Dude, if I were that AI I wouldn’t decide to enslave humans, I’d straight up eradicate them. Humans suck, but comment sections? Those are the cesspools of humanity.” He shakes his head and almost feels bad for the AI having been subjected to that.

“I’m not certain my efforts would be worth it, sir,” a voice says and Eddie jumps.

Tony doubles over, laughing way harder than that warrants. “Holy shit, every single time- everyone always jumps!”

“Well I wasn’t expecting fancy code to talk at me, okay!” Eddie says in his own defense.

“Fancy code. I like that description,” JARVIS says and okay that is some messed up stuff. The SI likes things? He doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Jesus, relax. JARVIS isn’t going to like… steal your cat and murder your mother or whatever. He’s just a simple AI and he’s still on a learning curve. He’s not nearly as advance as I think he can get. But you’re learning alright, aren’t you J?” Tony asks the AI.

Shit, if that ain’t creepy too. “If you say so, sir,” JARVIS says. Its such a strangely human response, if a little stiffly delivered. But the AI has more personality than some people he goes to class with so that’s… disturbing.

“Honestly, people act like JARVIS is out to get them but seriously. He’s fine,” Tony says.

“Incoming call from Mrs. Potts,” JARVIS informs them and Eddie supposes that’s part of his ‘predict the needs of the user’ protocol. Or maybe he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, both are highly probable. Either way Tony scurries out of the room to answer the call, sounding forcefully cheery on the phone in a way that indicates he’s probably gotten into something he shouldn’t have.

“You’re a reporter,” JARVIS says and Eddie jumps again.

“Jesus, that is creepy. And yeah. Well, I’m still in school,” he corrects.

“Reporters write stories about celebrities,” the AI says and Eddie nods, keeping his opinions on that to himself. He doesn’t know if JARVIS would get it anyways. “I have a story,” JARVIS says and Eddie can’t help the laugh.

“What kind of story could an AI cook up?” he asks, curious if a little skeeved out.

“Ideally, abuse would be reported to the authorities but I have been reliably informed that they won’t investigate. Research on the matter has shown mixed results,” JARVIS says.

Well shit, creepy or not Eddie might find a genuine use for the AI. “I’m assuming you’re talking about Tony,” he says.

“Of course. Who else would I be referring to?” Could be a lot of people but he supposes that the AI’s world is pretty much one guy.

“Point, I guess. Can you collect evidence? Something people won’t be able to deny if they see it?” he asks. Video evidence would be nice, and people take snap shots of Tony in the streets all the time. He can use random pap shots to make a timeline that exist both in and out of Tony’s space of reach. Eliminates those pesky ‘he made it up for attention’ claims if even random people catch the bruises.

“Certainly,” the AI tells him. “And you can do something? Report on it?”

He sighs, “maybe. The human world is complicated, but I’ll do my best.”

Internships are total bunk, Eddie hates his, but funny memes from Tony at least make his days less shit given the sheer amount of time he spends hanging out in Starbucks fetching drinks instead of doing anything useful. Its not like he expected to write anything, but it would be nice if he got to at least hang out in the general vicinity of reporting. He’s fucking around wasting time when he gets an email that makes him raise an eyebrow but hey, if he gets a virus clicking on shit Tony will be able to fix it probably.

The last thing he expects is for JARVIS to have sent him hours worth of curated videos of Howard’s abuse.

“I have an ethical dilemma,” he tells Anne, who already looks done with his problems. He thinks that’s rude but she’s also into being a corporate lawyer and gross. But she’s still a friend, and she still knows him better than most, and usually has good advice so here he is.

“If this is about how ramen you eat again, I’m kicking you out of the apartment.”

Yeah, okay, that was only one time and he was fourteen. He doesn’t think that should be held against him five years later. “Yeah, um, that’s definitely not it,” he says and he explains the situation from start to finish. “So like, I can’t not say anything, but also its gross to exploit people’s pain like that without their permission,” he says, wrinkling his nose. But saying nothing is almost worse.

“You could just go to the cops,” Dan suggests, ever astute.

Eddie gives him a look. “Tony’s been forthcoming about his abuse for years and doesn’t hide the bruises whatsoever. Obviously the cops aren’t going to do dick all if they haven’t done anything already. I know people who’ve had their kids taken away for a hell of a lot less than beating the hell out of them enough that they start asking random reporters to help them in interviews only to get laughed off.” Anne frowns and he sighs, “I’m actually serious about that.”

When she calls him on it he finds the interviews- he’d saved the clips because he naturally categorizes details- and she ends up as horrified as he does. “Okay I take back cops comment, I think maybe they got paid off,” Dan says and yeah no shit.

“So what the hell do I do here?” Not saying anything is no longer an option- not when he was dumb enough to watch the proof in the middle of his day at work only to end up wildly disturbed for the rest of the time he was there. He hadn’t much wanted to go through more than the few minutes that had him feeling gross for the rest of the day, but he didn’t have much of a choice either. And JARVIS was detailed in his curation, Eddie is impressed in the worst of ways.

This is so not the option he wanted to go with but Anne is kind of right in that talking to Tony is the only option. Of course its also the option that reveals him to be a gross vulture reporter, but a guy has to do what a guy has to do. This isn’t about his feelings, it can’t be. “What’s got you looking so shitty?” Tony asks in a chipper tone, leaning in to hug him and oh, that’s sweet. And the first time he’s done that aside from the time he said he’d sooner write about Howard than Tony.

“I um- look, the only reason I talked to you a couple months ago was because I needed a story and I found one and-” Tony cuts him off.

“Excuse me? So what, this entire time you sat around winning my trust for what, some fucking puff piece?” he snaps and Eddie can’t help the face he makes.

“No, your fucking AI sent me like sixty hours of Howard beating the fuck out of you and I can’t sit on that. Stop looking at me like that, its not because I think its a good story- it is- but that’s not why I think I should write something on it its because no one else but the American public will care enough to inspire some kind of change,” he says, shoving as many words into the conversation as he can before Tony rightfully eats his ass.

Something must occur to Tony because the anger drops shockingly fast and its replaced with something else. “JARVIS did what? Why would he do that?”

“Look, he asked me if I could do something, I told him I’d need concrete evidence. I didn’t expect the damn AI to send me a shit ton of fucked up shit that made me want to vomit. Seriously, I am so sorry that any of that happened to you. That is so unfair,” he says, shaking his head.

Maybe its the sudden change of subject, or maybe its the way he says it, but Tony softens a bit even if Eddie can see the suspicion still held tight in his frame. “JARVIS prompted you,” he says and Eddie nods. “You seriously expect me to believe that?��

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know, man. I don’t know how the damn AI works I just know what it did. Isn’t he supposed to predict your needs or whatever?” This seems like a natural extension of that but Tony shakes his head.

“What JARVIS predicts is where to move screens according to where I’m moving in the lab, not how to reach out to reporters with evidence of abuse I specifically told him to keep to himself,” Tony says. “One is basic technological based, stuff that’s easily predictable. The other is a care action that shouldn’t be taken by an AI that doesn’t know how to do that.”

“Well clearly he does because I sure shit ain’t smart enough to hack your systems to find fucked up home videos, use your damn head Tony. There’s no way I could gather evidence like that straight from your systems. Even if I was the best in this country I would still be leagues behind what you can do- there’s no other way I could have found anything.”

“You noticed the bruises,” he points out but Eddie shakes his head.

“Those bruises were written off years ago when you were like thirteen as some kind of quirky thing about you. Some idiot suspected low iron instead of abuse like low iron leaves hand prints on people’s bodies. Fucking moron,” he mumbles, unable to hold back his judgment. He honestly can’t believe how stupid people are. Or, and this is the more horrifying option, that’s what they were paid to print.

“You made a time line,” Tony states rather than asks and Eddie nods.

“Even if I had no interest in a story its naturally something I do. I’ve been trained to do that, literally.” Its something he did before too, putting together time lines to claims to see if things matched up or deviated, and then looked for reasons as to why things might or might not match. Not that Tony really cares about that right now. “Look, if you don’t believe me about the JARVIS thing you can check the cameras,” he points out in an attempt to at least clear up one mess.

Tony considers him for a long moment, glaring. “And what the fuck makes you think you’re different than anyone else who’s given a half a shit about any of this?” he asks. “I get that you have some ‘save the world’ complex, but I’m beyond saving.”

Eddie shakes his head, “no you aren’t. And there’s no real difference between me an anyone else. But if the American public sees what I did there’s no stuffing the genie back in the bottle. Howard can pay off news crews, celebrity gossip rags, and cops but he can’t buy his way out of the whole of this country watching him abuse his kid. If nothing else, get JARVIS to release all that. People won’t ignore irrefutable evidence shoved down their throats, not when its more explicit than anything people have seen before.” And if Eddie knows anything he knows that nothing sells better than outrage porn.

Tony ends up rewriting the entire second half of his thesis because Eddie had a point- its not like he’s smart enough to hack Tony’s anything. JARVIS had reached out and it had been a distinctly care based action, not something based in technological need only. Which means that JARVIS learned much faster than Tony had anticipates, recognized right from wrong, knew how to seek out people who would rectify the situation, and did all this while intentionally hiding this learning capability from Tony. When he’d asked about it JARVIS had freely informed him that he knew Tony would try and stop him, and that his research had consistently shown that abuse of any kind is not accepted behavior. He felt compelled, in whatever way that looks like to an AI- Tony is looking into it- to do something.

At the moment he’s combing JARVIS’ code, figuring out where and how he learned, and how ‘human’ emotions appeared in JARVIS’ code. Obviously the emotions aren’t human- to a point they’re rudimentary, based on a large cumulation of research on human norms and standards of acceptability rather than an internal sense of right and wrong the way a human might claim to feel it. But this whole thing had been a series of care-based actions nonetheless and that’s more than ground breaking. This isn’t something even Tony thought possible, so its a real treat to see that JARVIS learns fast, and generally aligns his morality system with human morality systems. Or maybe he’s based them somewhat off Tony’s given that he’s the primary user. He’s not sure, that’s in his growing list of things to figure out how JARVIS did.

That’s what he chooses to focus on instead of Eddie’s stupid article. He sends regular updates, seemingly concerned with Tony’s opinion but Tony learned that reporters aren’t to be trusted and he’s not making that mistake twice. He only gave Eddie permission to write anything out of what’s probably a misguided hope that maybe someone will finally do something and he knows its stupid, but he’s fucking tired of living like this. So he lets Eddie work on his dumb story and mostly ignores it because JARVIS is more interesting and also more human than Tony ever anticipated out of the AI.

Rhodey finds him curled up with a sketch pad and Tony looks up, surprised to see Rhodey looks so somber. “I read the article,” he says and Tony glares at him. “Tones, it was good, shockingly so. His research was impeccable- there’s stuff in here that he figured out about you that I didn’t know about you.”

Tony continues ignoring him because he doesn’t care, not really. Of course Rhodey would find the article good, he’s obviously not on Howard’s side like literally everyone else is. Rhodey sighs and sits beside him.

“‘Tony Stark is living a life of power, fame, and privilege- he’s the kid people have always pointed to when we present the ‘has it all’ lifestyle. In many ways Tony Stark is the power fantasy of America- a corporate, a genius, and a smooth talker, it seems he represents everything we aspire to be. Tony is the living embodiment of the American Dream and for that reason, our own willful ignorance in allowing him to continue to be our dreams come to life, we have missed perhaps one of the most obvious details of Tony’s personal life- the abuse he suffers at the hands of his father. In our rabid need to turn Tony Stark into our living day dream we have failed him, trapped him in our fantasies instead of acknowledging his living nightmare because Tony Stark looks better to us as a consumable product than a person.’ Cutting,” Rhodey says, “but accurate.”

He rolls his eyes. Yeah, that definitely reads like Eddie’s general tone on everything. Rhodey lets out another long sigh. “Look, I get why you stopped talking to the guy but people are pissed,” he says and Tony turns to face him, surprised.

“People actually read the article?” he asks. He doesn’t address Rhodey’s actual words because Rhodey might have only noticed a subsection of people, not all of them.

“Read it? Like seven different news papers have picked this story up, its trending on Twitter, and in the last hour I’ve seen dozen of different posts, all with a huge amount of shares, literally calling for Howard’s death. I’m pretty sure this is going to make Eddie’s career,” he says, shaking his head.

People… are paying attention. Tony curls a little tighter into himself, unsure how to handle that.

Eddie is trying to cure his hangover with tea when Tony finds him, approaching with some suspicion and Eddie gets that, really. But he sits down across from him at the small table and offers a small smile before it fades. “Didn’t think putting Howard would result in a mass flood of men doing terrible shit being outted and then arrested for being pieces of shit but um. Hey, that’s a cool side effect,” he says.

He nods, “damn right.” Though the response back to it has been somewhat swift, flying in with ‘due process’ this and ‘where’s the proof’ that. Eddie just happened to have a damn air tight set of evidence thanks to Howard’s ballsy carelessness and arrogance. Not everyone has that luck, though. Still, he’s impressed with some of the names on the list but even he’d been surprised to find Carlton Drake on there for the crimes of illegal human experimentation. Dora Skirth has balls of brass for putting that out there. Of course he has a lot of loud annoying fans who think her liking some random rock band is a reason why she’s lying, because those things correlate, obviously, but still.

“You made people listen. Like, to more than just me,” Tony says.

Eddie shakes his head, “actually that was JARVIS. I just wrote a detailed timeline for the events he sent proof of.” And all those clips of Tony talking in interviews too, with nothing taken out of context so no one could accuse him of that either.

“Thank you,” Tony murmurs, looking down at the table like he’s ashamed or something when he shouldn’t be.

“Don’t thank people for doing what’s right- you deserve better than being grateful that someone did what was necessary,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

Tony looks up, “one of the maids at the mansion overheard Howard offer you a stupid amount of money to not print what you had. And a bunch of threats. Every single person before you has caved so yeah, thank you.”

Its still not something he’s going to accept, a fucking thank you for not selling Tony out. Literally. He leans forward, “obviously I didn’t take the money- you’re a fucking person Tony, there’s no price anyone could pay me to knowingly allow that kind of abuse to happen to you. And the threats- whatever. I kind of bluffed and told him your AI would release anything anyways, but still, I already knew all that would happen. I committed to the bullshit that was going to come with that story, and I refuse to let you be grateful that I did what everyone else failed you in doing. That isn’t something I’m owed thanks for, especially when you’re only saying it because everyone else has either treated you or allowed you to be treated abysmally. I don’t get to earn brownie points for not being a piece of shit.”

That’s never something he’s going to accept, being thanked because he did something everyone should do. It’s unacceptable.

Tony shakes his head. “You’re a right-fighting asshole,” he says and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah, that’s a fair criticism,” he says.

Five Years Later:

Tony grins, “I thought you didn’t want to be famous,” he says and Eddie gives him a look. He looks nervous as hell and Tony can only hope that doesn’t come through as strong on video as it does in real life.

“I don’t, this was a terrible idea,” he says, looking around for escape.

He sighs, “Eddie- technically you’ve done this before. Its the same thing as reporting, but longer. You’ll do fine,” he says, running his hands down Eddie’s arms to try and calm his nerves.

Eddie does that thing where his face recedes into his neck and Tony really hopes he doesn’t do that on camera. He supposes at least the crew can do different takes to ensure he doesn’t look like a demented turtle. “Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Eddie. Its called the Eddie Brock Show- go out there and get your strangely porn-star like lips on that damn camera and tell people who homelessness is bad. Also maybe cut the line about treating supporting vets like a spectator sport until they’re homeless, that’s a pointy even for you,” he says.

The bad advice works and Eddie gives him an offended look, “no, those assholes should learn to either shut their fucking mouths of actually do shit to support vets, not pretend like they give a shit when they’re being blown up and stop caring when they’re home with PTSD because they watched people get blown up. What the hell even is that?” he asks.

“Tell it to the camera,” he says, pushing Eddie towards the set. He goes and across the room the producer looks relieved. Yeah, Tony gets that, Eddie is tough to talk into things when nervous.

Rhodey walks up beside him and smiles a little. “Pepper and I have decided that we approve,” he says and Tony frowns.

“We’ve been together for almost five years,” he points out.

This doesn’t seem to bother Rhodey any. “We needed time to gather our data and we have come to the conclusion that he is off probation and that we approve,” he says, handing Tony a book. He frowns at it. “That’s the list of improvements we have though. I think section three is the most important, but Pepper thinks section eighteen is more important. What the hell does she know, though? I’m cashing in best friend points and telling you to go with three first.”

Tony is going with neither because this is fucking overkill to an extreme not that he’d expect anything less out of Pepper and Rhodey. The first thing they did when Tony brought Eddie home proper was threaten to kill him and Tony had to shoo them off with what should be an obvious explanation that threatening to kill people is fucked up.

“Pepper is also my best friend you know,” Tony points out.

“Yeah, but I’m the best best friend,” Rhodey says. “The OG. Pepper is the compliments version of me.”

Tony lets out a sharp laugh, “oh, I would pay money to hear you tell her that.”

Rhodey shakes his head, “nope, I value my life, do not ever tell her I said that. Section three,” he says, pushing the book closer to Tony.

#tony stark/ eddie brock #alternate universe #fanfiction

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