Death happens when you least expect it.

Though it drowns, it isn't rain to warn anyone with clouds.

Death is sudden.

It strikes. It takes. It rips souls like a greedy hand would pick out flowers from the garden.

Death is unfair, because why would the hand ever reach down to pick a weed when the most beautiful plant embraces the bloom of its life right next to it?

"Clara?" Venom's voice was a distant echo, a mere background noise while her mind flooded in an instant, much like her cheeks. Her throat clogged until her scream was deafened. Fingertips trembled, lost and unable to process... why?

"Is this my fault?" she whimpered to herself, because her lips didn't even move and words couldn't get past that suffocated chest. It was her fault though, she believed that. If only she didn't argue with Khonshu further...

"Clara!" Venom called again, a notch clearer, but still, her tears obstructed her mind. Drop after drop, they dripped on Marc's still face, getting colder by the second.

And she didn't know what to do, for the first time in a long time.

Helpless, on every level, Clara felt like she had just been killed too.

Grief twisted with denial and her hands, no matter how masochistic it would seem, refused to let go of him.

Emotions shattered and the rain of shards left her chest but an empty carcass, a gap where the love used to be. It turned to rust inside and bitterness stung the back of her throat.

The taste of death was as bitter as the lake of scarlet in which she knelt with him in her arms. His lifeless eyes looked through her and Clara knew the longer she stared, the more this image would haunt her for eternity, but not for a second did she consider looking anywhere else.

Emptiness, bitterness... In the midst of that garden of evil slithered the weed of guilt. Clara knew that she had killed the person she loved the most. By not being more attentive to their surroundings, by letting her guard down and allowing herself to get lost in his eyes and the illusion of safety that his presence created for her.

It was all her fault that the dried blood on her hands caught another layer.

Panic's turn came to impale her crippled heart in under a second since her knees had found the ground to be their grave.

Widening, her eyes stopped on her hands and their clumsy smudge over the scene. His blood. It was not an unfamiliar sight to have it paint her skin, but unlike their first meeting, in that dark junkyard... this was an image which horrified her breath into stopping.

Violence ran in Clara's veins, but she felt her stomach turn, about to vomit out the nothingness it held, similarly to her heart. A blank slate of acidity. She was sick; the scent of her home had just died.

"Clara!" Venom properly shouted this time, enough to get her eyes to raise and fix on the door which had then been kicked open.

"Visual confirmed. Target 2 eliminated." Clara didn't care about the O.M.N.I.U.M. soldiers who barged in until overhearing their formal mission conversation reminded her there was yet another party to blame: who pulled the trigger? She looked up.

"Venom-?"

"I know," the symbiote interrupted. "I'm with you."

"Beginning extraction for Target 2," the soldiers continued, advancing slowly towards their target still knelt beside the corpse. However, Clara's hands were off him at last. Revenge fell in her eyes, those lifeless dark things, with a thousand paths of pain inside fuelling double that amount of hatred.

They looked danger in the eyes and still advanced, "Back-up Team Y, Z and Alpha, stand-by."

Three soldiers were in the room for the extraction. Five more outside. Perhaps just thrice this much throughout the building, considering the last message. Numbers didn't matter to Clara. She was going to kill them all, without a smile, without a blink, without a single moment of hesitation.

They would all pay for her need to avenge Marc Spector... Steven Grant... Jake Lockley.

All three soldiers entering the room were fast. Marc died twenty second ago, their message ended two seconds ago. Their left hands freed themselves from the guns they carried and reached in an unsuccessful sync for the frequency weapons attached to their belts.

Before any fingertip could touch that wretched device, three tentacles of Venom's raised up from Clara's back, solidified into spikes capturing an unusual shade of crimson while they projected through the room and impaled the target with precision. The left hands, the devices and a good portion of the soldiers' hips were ripped off the body, destroyed and splattered over the floor.

Screams were delightful, but Clara held no smile while getting off the ground with an eerie help from her symbiote's body mass.

They were one. His pain was hers as much as her pain was his. And for the torture he went through, he let Clara take full control. She needed it far more than him.

On her feet, she stood between the staggered, wailing soldiers and the corpse of her lover. The three speared tentacles sharpened further before promptly going through each of those soldier's chests. Three tentacles turned into two as she headed for the open doorway. The first unlucky bastard to block her way appeared. Sharp tips turned into a dozen finer cuts. Every point punctured this soldier's chest.

Clara ripped him in half and stepped through the new stains onto the hallway.

Staring to the right, the same pieces of Venom stabbed right away through two skulls at once. Without exiting them, without pulling backwards just yet, she lifted them off the ground -her face was a neutral tone in the painting of violence- and clashed them to the hall's left side, into their other two colleagues, hard enough to break the hands which tried to activate frequency devices.

Ten bullets fired from the four left on the hallway. Four missed their mark. The rest she didn't feel anyhow.

What was another bullet hole's burn over the emptiness in her chest?

Clara let go of the two she had on a string like steak. She kept on walking forward, not particularly stopping but still making sure the throats of the two who seemed to have gotten away with just some broken bones got slit open.

The four kept on shooting and each bit of flesh their ripped off of Clara grew back in its own time so that she was unbothered to get closer. They didn't expect her not to fall, especially after they've been shown her weak state in the last attempt at an extracting mission.

The difference was simple but impossible for them to spot: in Casablanca she was protecting him, here she had nothing left to protect.

Before the first two took a step back, Clara raised her blood stained hands and they turned into spikes made out of Venom. They went through the chests of the two and punctured the ceiling like darts. A blink away, Venom was back under her skin and the corpses fell on the ground, framing the straight path she walked.

One of the remaining two shot her left cheek. It startled her into halting her step.

"Quick," that soldier's muffled voice addressed their colleague, "set off the soundwaves- Ah!" Venom decapitated him while Clara's face healed.

The last soldier of the first team fumbled to detach the sound weapon from his belt. Clara made one step in his direction before that thing went off. She fully embraced the excruciating pain she felt, because it was nothing compared to the heavy burden of knowing that when this was over... her new-found home would still be gone. This was fixing nothing and she was aware of it. The hole in her chest could not be filled with blood.

With a high frequency blasted in her ear, Clara's knees buckled. Venom screeched and vibrated too violently under her skin, especially as that bastard of a soldier stepped closer, holding the sound weapon to her head, close enough to her temple to make her feel a hot trail of blood leave her earlobe.

She found anchors into agony and like a true masochist, Clara bit down on her tongue to keep back a grunt -the first sound she's made since this bloodshed commenced- and raised her right hand, catching the device. Venom detached completely from her hand and climbed upwards, raising the pressure in her body with this dislocation of balance.

Clara held even tighter, pulling the thing closer until she could feel it like a whip against each inch of her skin. She deserved this. Venom endured her self-punishment of two seconds.

Then, her foot slid behind the man and brought him down to the ground. She allowed her knees to rest on the floor of the hallway, but her hand did not pause. The device was in her hand, out of his. She could have stopped it with a click, but she preferred letting out a clearer battlecry and smashing it down on the black helmet.

It immediately broke, stopping the sound. The soldier's hands fret around, trying to get her off him, but restlessly, the second hit followed, then the third, and the fourth... Clara didn't stop, not after the helmet was broken, not after the soldier's nose was bashed in, not even after the bones of the face had been shattered. She didn't stop hitting until the mushy insides of the skull spurred out.

Then she dropped the device into the mess and exhaled herself into getting up.

She hasn't properly straightened up that she picked a different sound. This soldier also held a communication device, it buzzed with a message she couldn't quite hear clearly. Whether or not it reached his leader, or just the other team, was irrelevant.

Clara picked that communication link up and spoke into it, while turning around and proceeding down the hallway, down the stairs.

"Do you know the fairy tales about dragons?"

An impassive voice interrupted the channels of the soldiers. Chills crept at home down the spines of those unaware of what was coming for them, while back at O.M.N.I.U.M. 's unknown base, behind monitors, the man with scars listened to Clara's words too.

"Should we call this off, sir?" Someone turned towards him, shocked to see his smile.

"No. Marc Spector's off the board already, we have no reason to terminate the mission so soon."

And yet, the person who brought up the option turned their head back at the monitors and saw eleven dead people. Twelve. Thirteen... The last two's deaths echoed in the background of her ominously calm speech.

"There's always that one stupid guy who wants to steal the dragon's treasure." Flesh tearing through flesh was a horrifying buzz which occupied the line in the breaks she took to breathe. Clara's steps were hardly light enough, so they added a countdown for every field soldier listening.

"And after they steal what the dragon loves, they act as if they've done nothing wrong," a grunt accelerated the tempo at which her words got spoken. Audible over the track was that she was beginning to snarl, to glare, to contort her features on the anger she was, either way, embodying.

She was War made flesh, seeing red before her eyes.

"They act as if the dragon has no right to take back what was stolen, like they didn't have it coming... all that fire and despair. I'm not a dragon and your deaths will not be by flame. But I will kill you for what you've stolen from me, I'll make you suffer in ways you didn't think it would be possible. In ways only I can."

The man with the scar, the man behind O.M.N.I.U.M., tucked away safely in a base, smiled, "Fascinating."

"I won't stop here," Clara continued. She reaped through two teams like they were nothing. Alpha Team was in the bar below, the bar in which she made a beautiful memory with Jake. Thinking how they were about to ruin that for her, she spit out the next words, "You wanted me, didn't you? You wanted the Venom, so fucking be it. I'll hunt each and every one of you bastards down. No matter where you hide, no matter how safe you think you are, mark my words that I'll be the last face you see."

"Are they ready?" The scarred man, Dr. Hayes by one of his many names, leant forward, sensing that the last three team members standing were now close to fighting his yet to acquire asset, the key to fulfillment of the whole legacy he carried.

"Yes, sir."

Clara pushed open the bar's backdoor to the stairs of the above motel and was immediately pulled by both arms into the room, tossed on the ground by two seemingly typical O.M.N.I.U.M. soldiers. She rolled her fall so she landed ready to get up.

Getting the chance to actually sit up was tougher though when the speakers of the bar blasted the high frequency she was sensitive to. These soldiers carried no weapons but their bare hands.

Clara would be damned if she lost this fight.

With her teeth creaking down on each other, she screamed out the force with which she expelled Venom out of her body. He shot in a dispersed chaos, throughout the room, striking all speakers broken, impaling one of the three soldiers there and then retracting all at once under Clara's skin.

Dr. Hayes' lips thinned into an unsatisfied, flat line, seeing the vitals of one of his Alpha Team members turn critical red.

Clara was a bit hazed after that little trick and the backlash of being exposed to those irritating sounds, but her inner motivation changed, helping her be more on the edge.

From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the soldiers had climbed a column nearby to get the higher ground and gain the momentum to drop a punch onto her. Clara moved her head with the punch to minimize the damage, but she was shocked to feel that punch far heavier than she had initially appreciated.

It's heaviness did not stop her from throwing a fist right back, hard enough, backed by Venom, to directly crack that stupid black helmet of theirs.

They landed one punch, she landed one too.

There was balance, save for the fact that each hit they took felt harder than the last and eventually, they made her head hurt enough to be able to quickly step behind her, wrap an arm around her neck and squeeze.

Close-up fighting was not Venom's speciality, but he could still help.

He pushed himself out of Clara's palm and hit the ground with a hand of his own. The impact reverbed through her body and the soldier's, sent them upwards. From that fall, Clara landed on her feet, knees bent, while the soldier, taken off guard and out of position, fell on their back.

She wasted no breath to throw a punch. They dodged and she hit the ground. Unlike the other O.M.N.I.U.M. soldiers, she realized these were better trained... stronger. With a punch like that, they seemed closer to how she imagined "super soldiers" to be in combat.

Clara threw a second hit and from there on, until the fourth, they all managed to hit the one below her, cracking the entirety of their mask and being able to see their face, bruised and with cuts.

The one who's been observing from the sidelines this escalation joined in with a tool they had procured by breaking a pipe on the wall. That pipe used to be Clara's weapon in her childish years, but now, it rained pain on the back of her neck hard enough for her to hear a crack too.

She was forced to roll away.

Venom attempted to reach out of her arm and take that weapon away from them, but the soldier used the pipe to kick Venom away. Then tossed it immediately at their colleague, standing up. Clara did not bother moping over a missed hit. She was up on her feet in no time, throwing a heavy, clawed punch at one soldier, while the other hit her back.

Bones started breaking faster than Venom could heal.

She landed one hit, they landed two... then three. She was losing her advantage against them, it seemed.

There was so much pain in such little time.

Her whole right arm was covered in Venom and expanded out of her. By some luck, she managed to get through one of the soldiers' chests.

Dr. Hayes, somewhere out there, hit his fist down on the table in frustration to see another project of his die by the hands of the symbiote he thought to be the perfection worth striving for and investing into.

The last soldier standing was enraged to see another colleague die, surely, because their next hit on Clara came with force, right across her face. It was a fist brawl between enhanced strength and they were backing her towards a wall, slowly... at least until they managed to raise their foot and push their heel into the middle of her chest.

Knocking all air out of her lungs, she was slammed into the wall and her head, hitting that concrete, rang in confusion and instant hazing.

The soldier's hand came over the side of her face, immediately aiming to obstructionate her sight, while his other'a forearm laid flatly on her neck, pushing her back. Lack of sight did not stop Clara from hitting. With her fist bruised, bloody and hurting, she kept on smashing into the helmet, wherever she could, satisfied to hear cracks, even if her teeth turned from white to bright red too.

She shattered the whole helmet, and the soldier was exposed.

Only she had run out of breath, her muscles refused to tense and Venom couldn't react fast enough.

A blade cut through the air and stuck into the soldier's face, dug into their temple and curved into their brain, shutting down the lights from their eyes.

Clara was released and she stared down at a golden moon-curved blade.

Moon.

Hope, the most dangerous thing of all, took her breath away.

She looked up and saw Moon Knight right in front of her, about to reach out his hands to touch her already shivering shoulders.

Hadn't she just watched him die? Was this a cruel hallucination?

Impossibility convinced her to react in an instant and Clara punched Moon Knight in the face, hard enough to undo the bandages hiding his face. The hood disappeared, the mask was gone and the white shine of his eyes flickered to a missing state while Marc stumbled back.

It was him.

It was truly him.

So without a single second left as room for talk, Clara grabbed his chest plate by whatever she could grasp and pulled Marc back. Holding him as close ad humanely possible. She hugged tight enough to squeeze the air out of him and make both their bodies ache. Only then, when she felt his scent and liveliness did she shout out her doubtful relief, "You died!"

Clara was shivering.

Was it an accusation? Was it a complaint?

"I know," Marc breathed out.

He's been dead many times before. Never had he died so suddenly as that morning though.

Waking up alone, at leadt until he found Steven and Jake, on a path through the desert at night... he had nothing but the memory of Clara crying for him and the certainty that Khonshu would not be rescuing him this time. They argued after all, didn't they? Perhaps he didn't want him as his avatar anymore.

The God proved him wrong. He showed up.

Clara let go of her right hand so she could rest her forehead on his shoulder and barely hit her fist into his armor.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" A pathetic shaking shout. Every little cell in her body was suffering their own torture from the fluctuations of adrenaline, and of sorrow.

"Did you forget our deal?" Clara finally blurted out. "I can't handle this, Marc! I can't handle missing you."

"I know and I'm sorry," was his own pathetic mumble, all he could say just then when his own hands trembled in their gloves to hold Clara closer still. Fuck, if not him, then who would beat him up about not being less of a difficult lover? He would have never blamed her if she instead tried to kill him there and then, instead of hugging their pain out.

"How...?" Clara leant back.

Her hands lingered on his arms, trailed on his chest, felt him up and down, trying to sense any signs whatsoever of blood. But his suit was pristine. He looked well and as alive as ever, which relieved her to the point her heart felt tired enough to just fail a few heartbeats or completely. Tiredness dawned on her; she felt at the limit of her power. "How are you alive then? The bullets... your heart was..." Clara was barely breathing properly anymore, but she didn't stop her confusion from using her voice.

"Not unfixable," Khonshu appeared beside them, for only Marc to see. "I got there just in time to put your pieces back together, boy."

"Khonshu," Marc's shortness of breath matched Clara's, but his short explanation did not suffice for her mind, which has been thinking that stupid God was behind the orchestra of misfortune that got her Marc killed in the first place.

Anything, even delusions, made sense to her desperate brain, because nothing is harder to accept than the inevitability of death.

"Where is that skull-head motherfucker?" she glared then. "Did he kill you to have a laugh-?"

"No," Marc took the freedom to interrupt. He wasn't going to step away, nor take his hands off her waist, but he could shake his head. "Khonshu brought me back to life."

"I told her I do that when needed, I don't get it why she's still shocked," the God sighed.

"But...," something didn't add up for Clara and that confusion made her tilt her head ever so slightly to the side, "I thought he was mad with you... with both of us really. Why would he suddenly save you?"

Then, Marc looked to the side, up at Khonshu. That was exactly what he had asked the Moon God when he offered to get him right back to the body, into the ceremonial suit which would heal up the wounds of the flesh. It was even more puzzling to hear Khonshu apologize that he had impulsively broken out chaos in Marc's mind; not to mention he also insisted on hurrying so he could aid her in this fight.

Looking back at Clara, he was going to answer with exactly what Khonshu told him too, "He was shown a different perspective on things. Don't ask me by who or by what though, because I don't know. All I know is that he agreed to let us take down O.M.N.I.U.M. our own way..."

And Marc was going to proudly announce that, thanks to Jake's input, Khonshu also cleared out that he will let her be from now on... No more fucking around their girlfriend's mind once they take care of O.M.N.I.U.M.. He caught a whiff of hesitation instead, halting his confidence.

He looked into Clara's eyes, narrowing his with a furrow of the eyebrows, "That only if you still want to."

Clara didn't answer right away. She waited to hear Venom.

"I'll follow your lead, Clara."

"Are you sure?"

Taking a moment to acknowledge her state, Clara's awareness focused already on a clear answer for Marc. O.M.N.I.U.M. could have been a matter of the past, but they've turned it personal, over and over again. For what they've attempted to do to her...

Clara nodded, "I'm with you, Marc."

"Till death do us apart?" he joked, even if his smile gave away just fine how happy her words have made him.

Her chuckle was part of the answer, "Way too soon for that."

And the grimace which followed truly betrayed the ache which was overtaking each heartbeat, out of her control.

He was safe, but for God knows how long, she's been killing people in the whole building thinking he was not. Blood coagulated on her skin, to weigh down the proof of it.

Finally, consequences caught up with Clara and her knees weakened. Her shortness of breath hitched and stopped altogether, leaving her to gasp in that sudden drop of adrenaline, right into the hellish pits of panic.

One joke set off the alarm in her whole body. Her mind was going through a tornado.

She was too dizzy to realize she let go of Marc and started circling her steps back. Every single emotion Clara held back throughout the fight, in a mindless need for violent survival, crashed back down on her, all at once. Heart was giving in under the pressure of all, the most intense sensations. She had lost everything and regained it in too short of a time span. The fluctuations ruined her.

Clara stepped away, without direction and with long hard blinks that did not manage to focus her eyes. Her back hit a column in the bar and she sat down, at last.

Steven took over the body without any fuss whatsoever. The Moon Knight ceremonial suit disappeared. He rushed to kneel before Clara and take one hand of hers into his. He has been having these panic attacks too often lately, and it broke his heart to distinguish her experiencing these nasty things too.

"What color are the stage curtains?" he asked, calm, breathing loudly so maybe Clara's breath followed his pattern.

Her eyes moved rapidly, blinks quickened and she found it hard to understand at first. She processed the question in her own time and looked over his shoulder briefly.

"Red."

"What color are the lights above it?" Steven continued.

It took her considerably less time to look back at the stage and gulp, "Purple." Her hands were still shaking, but Steven started feeling her holding onto him less faintly and more certainly, which was a good sign. He wasn't loosing her.

He looked around the room fast, at the blood everywhere, at the three dead people -this wasn't the best place to calm someone down at. But after having died once, in a rather conscious state, after seeing Jake and Marc and Khonshu too... Steven honed a little more understanding. It's been hours they spent in that afterlife image with the Moon God, but in this world it's been minutes since he still understood very little.

Dying had scared him senseless, it was Marc who helped him calm down, who finally told him what was happening to them, past, present and future.

So Steven looked beyond the violence of that room for now, making just an inner vow to try and get help for all of them, for all the people living inside of him and for Clara and Venom as well.

He continued listing objects for her to tell the color of, until her breath eased down to a normal. Her hand finally gripped his in a powerful tightness, controlled by her.

"I'm sorry we died," Steven sighed once he was sure Clara was in a safer state of mind. "But we're okay now."

"I can't love you anymore, can I?" Clara's smile was weak.

"Now," Steven felt his chest swell with disbelief, and perhaps a little fright too. Lose her? Now? When she was one of the main reasons why him and his other sides cooperated so well in the afterlife? "Why would you say that?"

"To need anyone...," her tone shivered. It seemed the panic had lingered. "It"s dangerous for someone like me." With a sharp inhale, she marked a break, "The more I love you, the more likely it is that bad things are going to happen."

"Bad things always happen. It's not your fault..."

"I did not just change my plan for her not to love you anymore," Khonshu puffed. "Do something, worm!" Steven flinched at Khonshu's voice, but he spared nothing more than that reaction to him.

"I just don't know how much more I can take, Steven... How much more I can take of you always being in danger..."

"I don't like danger," he admitted, eyes drifting down to Clara's hands which he massaged the knuckles of with his thumbs. "But Marc is good at handling it for us. I know that now."

"He got shot."

"Accidents happen. You can't always blame yourself for them." Finally, his gaze lifted to her eyes and Steven managed a smile, like those they've shared when peace surrounded them in DC. The eye contact helped solidify that though in her mind.

She cannot always blame herself. Did she truly always blame herself for everything? The most recent moment she did not came back to her: she had blamed O.M.N.I.U.M. for their death too.

"I didn't make it easy for you not to blame yourself, though, did I?" Steven continued, slowly, helping Clara focus out of that curious thought and back at his voice and presence which intoxicated her with the safety she desired. "The hard times are no excuse, nor are my fears... I should have never called you a monster, Clara. That's not something a man in love should say now, is it?"

"You love me?" Clara asked slower still. Of course, she had no doubt Jake felt that way, perhaps even Marc and Steven too at some point, but... to use those words directly. It felt too reassuring, too good to be true.

Steven nodded eagerly, "Oh, yeah, I do. I don't think anything can stop me from being completely enamoured with you now."

"Why?"

"That's the question, isn't it?"

He smiled, but Clara was in genuine confusion, rather spiteful too.

"I am a violent piece of shit and you, Steven Grant, are pretty much an angel. So why the heck would you love me?"

"Because you care," he replied calmly, as if it was the most obvious answer of all. "You care so much about so many things and you're devoted to everything you care about too. Your sister, your alien... if you didn't care so much about us, you wouldn't have felt as conflicted as you feel now. You've always cared about me, with patience and understanding. Basically, you can't just ask me why I love you, Clara Carita, because I could go on for hours listing all your qualities, and then all your flaws as well."

"I think we have time to spare," Venom sounded from inside her mind, thirsty for compliments in a humorous way.

"I'm starting to think you're a bit of a masochist too."

Steven chuckled slowly, winking rather slowly only due to his one-sided grin. "Yeah, maybe..." Moving his head with the sound of his voice, he drew in a bit nearer to Clara, before abruptly stopping, close to her. He recalled too clearly the last time she actually kissed him, things had gone incredibly wrong and he didn't get the chance to properly realize: she kissed him.

Taking himself back to the days at the museum, he would have never believed this to be possible. Jonathan would have laughed in his face if he ever dared daydream about it.

Clara squeezed his hand and with a sharp inhale, a bit sloppy too, Steven pressed a kiss onto her lips, eyes funnily shut tightly. He wanted to prove his words to her, even if he had no idea what he was doing.

How could he have confessed so much yet still be nervous about this?

His heart was in his throat and it did not let him breathe, not until Clara's lips moved too. Then, that very same heart skipped happily, threatening to jump out of his chest.

It was hard for her, being happy yet another time without fear of something bad happening. Something bad...

The idea about blame and guilt was reborn between their lips and now, Clara could actually give it a second thought.

"We should go back to the bunker," she whispered while leaning away from each other.

"The... what?" He was adorably blushing, absolutely dishevelled from the most innocent of kisses. "Oh, your team? Are you sure you want to go back there? That Paul guy..." It wasn't a pretty image he recalled, when Clara wanted to rip the guy to shreds...

"He's immortal. Having a bone to pick with him is puerile work anyway," Clara shrugged. "And we need to take down O.M.N.I.U.M., don't we?" She was calling back to Marc's words, surely.

That was it. The last thing stopping her from being happy. She couldn't properly enjoy the safety of a possible forever love, not while O.M.N.I.U.M. was out there. They had to go.

author's note:    and now we have only ONE more act to go !!! how exciting is that gahhhh

A LOT has happened this act... so, is it a good time to ask: which was your favorite scene and why???

from this act, but only because i am the writer, i personally really adored all of clara's fight scenes. because we see the difference, from the start of the act, to the end of it, how she fights when she cares and how she fights when she does not.

now, from the final act, i have pre-written two chapters already. since i am watching multiverse of madness next thursday and i have a fic planned for that movie, i aim to finish "venom" max on friday. the plan for act v is all made, but i am currently stuck on a trip with dad so idk when imma be able to write more, before wednesday when i get back.

because i am hyped, here's the chapter titles, cause i want y'all to hype with meeee 👀👀👀

01 - The Horsemen
02 - Survived Our Trip to NYC
03 - Crazy and Craziest
04 - That's A Red One
not revealing finale title