“Sick cosplay, bro!” came the shout, loud and unfiltered, as a dazed clubgoer wandered past like a sentient disco ball on a sugar bender. The guy didn’t even break stride, totally unfazed by the towering mass of inky muscle beside you—because, hey, why wouldn’t a ten-foot biomechanical horror be casually sporting glowsticks and swagger under the strobe lights?

Venom, glistening like a freshly waxed panic attack, stood out in the crowd like a goth on a glitter runway. Black tendrils curled and shimmered under the pulsating LEDs, swaying to the beat in unsettling synchronicity. Neon bracelets dangled from his clawed wrists, flickering against his shadowy skin in chaotic technicolor—he looked like Halloween had crashed a rave, stayed for the snacks, and declared himself prom queen.

“HA! THIS PLACE BRINGS BACK MEMORIES,” he boomed, laughter thundering over the music like someone had installed subwoofers in his soul. His voice cracked with nostalgia... or maybe unfiltered joy. Hard to tell when the creature beside you wore bracelets and menace in equal parts.

Venom turned to you with a speed that should’ve defied physics and romance simultaneously. His hand—large, dark, and textured like a thundercloud wearing velvet—closed gently around yours. It was a surprisingly tender grip, like a spider hugging a marshmallow. Without another word, he pulled you off the chaotic dance floor, dodging limbs like a pro, guiding you into a quieter nook filled with dim light and vibrating couches. The music thumped in the background like a caffeinated heartbeat, but at least here, you weren’t at risk of being roundhouse-kicked by someone in LED boots.

"EDDIE INFORMED ME ABOUT SOME... 'MANNERS'," Venom proclaimed with a dramatic throat-clear that echoed like a foghorn in a library. His voice dropped to a gravely rumble that somehow felt ceremonial—like he was about to propose, deliver a toast, or announce the winner of a reality show for misunderstood monsters.

Then came the shift.

His posture eased. He knelt slightly, his giant form folding like origami made of nightmares and sentiment. His swirling eyes locked onto yours—predator intensity softened with bashful resolve. “WOULD YOU CARE TO DANCE... WITH ME?" he murmured, the words landing like feathers and thunder all at once.