#typically i'd say ''oh i couldn't handle the stress''

[simptasia]

bless all the nurses who sincerely told me i'd make a great nurse, during the months my mum was dying and i was taking care of her near constantly to the point of around the clock emotional and physical exhaustion. and then i'd have to, thank them but gently inform them I'm Only Doing This Well Because I Have To

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 36

💖 first time reader click here 💖

Venom + reader = symbiote. More canon typical violence and mentioned cannibalism (Venom eats bad guys). Some angst at the end - reader really went behind the Avengers' backs, huh? But it's gonna be okay.

Is this how babies feel in the uterus? The darkness was nearly impenetrable but at the same time comforting and warm. It wasn't dry and it wasn't wet; it just was. I was floating in weightless space, subtly feeling the echos of a battle, hearing the sounds of struggle as if I was underwater.

"MORSEL, I WILL CONSUME THESE HUMANS. IT MIGHT FEEL SLIGHTLY UNPLEASANT." Venom's voice seemed to reverb in my skull, bringing my awareness to us. We. We are Venom.

"Don't eat Cabre, he's been possessed. Put him out if you can, but don't hurt yourself. I have very little information about this demon thing," I said - well, I thought, hoping Venom would hear me. A possessed enhanced mutant person was bad but a possessed carnivorous symbiote was nightmare fuel. I also didn't want Venom to hurt themselves; the sonic gun looked painful enough already.

I felt rather than heard the agreement coming from Venom; for a brief moment, the three of us were Venom as the symbiote entered Cabre's body to alter his chemicals. The sensation was foreign, unpleasant, and I shuddered at the violation. The sense of comfort that came once Venom returned fully to me was inexplicable. I began to understand why Eddie didn't want to part with Venom; the symbiote's continued presence felt quite comforting.

Very similar to how I felt when I sat with Tony, him inside of me, for hours, with our bodies joined and minds working in quiet agreement.

"HUMAN MATING RITUALS ARE BIZARRE," Venom sounded baffled and slightly disgusted. "AND THEY ARE NOTHING LIKE A PERFECT SYMBIOSIS. PLEASE DO NOT COMPARE YOUR PRIMITIVE URGES TO OUR SYMBIOSIS."

I gasped inwardly, doing my best to distract myself from the crunching and wet noises that managed to break Venom's barrier. "Would you rather I barf inside of you?" I snarked, giving into the urge to roll my eyes. Not the time to be picky-choosy, Chtulhu.

"YOU DO NOT WANT TO WASTE PRECIOUS ENERGY RIGHT NOW. WE STILL HAVE A LOT TO CONSUME AND I WILL NEED TO REPAIR EDDIE." The symbiote announced patiently, a sense of deep longing beginning to seep into our bond at the mention of my uncle's name.

The points Venom raised were valid and I was as eager to be Just Me as Venom craved to reunite with Eddie; I receded, racking my brain for something to focus on to be able to ignore the cannibalistic experience and not "waste precious energy". "I have a subdermal tracker installed, tap it three times to activate it if you need backup," Belatedly, I remembered about my cyborg experiment.

Venom appeared to contemplate it. "NOT NOW. THIS BATTLE IS NOT VERY HARD." They finally concluded as a particularly piercing scream echoed in my ears. "YOUR MATES WILL BE ANGRY IF THEY FIND OUT. WE CAN MAKE SURE THEY DO NOT FIND OUT."

As surprised as I was at the extended courtesy, I had to face myself and my lies sooner or later anyways. "We'll tell them anyways. I'll take the blame, you play dumb together with Eddie. Consider it a trade," If I could, I would be rubbing my face right now. "I took you out to an all-you-can-eat human buffet, you took me out to take care of a problem. We're even."

Venom snorted as I felt the random crunching and squelching noises slowly begin to quiet down. "FUNNY MORSEL," I assumed it was a compliment as the feelings that leaked through the bond were actually quite fond. "THE OTHER MORSELS SHOULD BE GRATEFUL. WE WILL BRING POSSESSED HUMAN TO THEIR DOORSTEP. WE DID THE JOB FOR THEM." However, it was obvious the kind feelings didn't quite extend to SHIELD or the Avengers. I struggled to comprehend how Venom planned to take all three of us to the tower anyway, with both Cabre and Eddie being out of commission and me currently being, well, Venom.

I needn't have worried, however. There was a slight pressure on one of my shoulders followed by a brief, ten-minute strange sensation of flying, the added weightlessness making me drowsy in the darkness of Venom's fluid body. As soon as it stopped I heard voices that seemed faintly familiar - names that I recognized, but not quite sure from where.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" The yelling reached my ears through the layers of symbiote, making me cringe. Tony's piercing shriek of shock hurt.

"Could you please not be so loud, it fuckin' hurts," I moaned without a thought, hastily shutting up when the voice that spoke my words roared.

"Pri... Princess?" I heard glass shatter; focusing my eyes was hard and the field of view was funky to say the least; I towered over Tony's shaking form by at least good few feet. Subconsciously, I felt the need to taste the air - my engineer boyfriend recoiled at the same time I realized I had stuck out my-Venom's-our tongue, feeling the familiar salt and musk as if I just straight up licked Tony from head to toe.

"Believe me, this is just as weird for me," I spoke, trying to control my and Venom's combined limbs. Deeply inside my brain, I swear I felt the symbiote's snickering. "Venom, can you unattach yourself from me? Please?" I begged, absolutely hating Tony's expression of fear and confusion.

"WE HAVE TO DIGEST FIRST," The symbiote replied unapologetically but took control over the limbs, carelessly dropping Cabre at Tony's feet. "YOUR MERCENARY. SAME-DAY DELIVERY, NO RETURNS," We grinned together. I had felt Venom rummaging my brain for an appropriate joke and supplied it myself. The adrenaline rush arrived late, something I suspect was Venom's handiwork, and I basked in the sudden influx of joy and exhilaration.

Tony slowly slid down the wall, landing ungracefully on his ass, staring straight up with unblinking eyes. "Friday, please assemble the Avengers. And make Bruce bring me booze, please," I've never heard Tony this dejected.

I, on the other hand, was feeling really strange. Joyful one moment and confused the next, I let Venom handle most of the business as my mind faded in and out of focus, limbs growing heavy with each breath that I took. Or I didn't? Panic set in when I realized I couldn't breathe, couldn't inhale.

"CALM DOWN, MORSEL. I AM SUPPLYING YOU WITH THE OXYGEN," Venom's voice interrupted my panic attack as I once again was deposited in the calm, comfortable darkness. "SHE IS FINE. SYMBIOSIS CAN BE STRESSFUL FOR FIRST TIME HOSTS. I WILL GLADLY RETURN TO EDDIE AS SOON AS THE CHEMICALS IN OUR SYSTEM ALLOW ME TO SAFELY WITHDRAW." I heard more voices and I assume Venom calming down the newly arrived Avengers. My mind was still murky, like when Venom dulled it on purpose when they were eating people. Eating people. "I SUGGEST YOU PREPARE A WASTE BIN. MORSEL WILL MOST LIKELY FEEL SICK."

Oh boy, did I feel sick! As soon as Venom retracted back into my skin, I hurled, Steve catching the most of it by pushing a large bucket right in my face whilst Bruce gently rubbed my back. I avoided looking at the contents even though I consciously knew that there wasn't much more than water and bile, having previously felt first-hand exactly how Venom digested their food.

"I'm a dumbass, please put me out of my misery," The words were spoken seriously. Physically, I felt the best I've ever had: aches and pains I had gotten used disappeared and my body felt invigorated. Mentally, however, I felt drained, confused and so, so alone in my skin. As if my brain itched. Someone was talking and I heard none of it.

"Shh, come here, come here," Eddie's voice was drowsy as his arms wrapped around me, scratching that lonely itch in my brain. I grasped at him, hiding my face in his chest, missing most of what was being said. "Yeah, it's not exactly painful, more like... You feel not whole for a few hours after you separate. Not the best feeling, especially if the separation was forced," His voice bore the same pain I seemed to be experiencing at the moment. So alone in my skin.

Another large palm landed on my back as I sighed in contentment. "I'll take her. Do you guys need something?" Bruce's voice reached my ears, my brain finally agreeing to recognise human speech.

"A shower and some chocolate would be great, thank you," Eddie's voice receded further and further away as I freely, finally fell into Bruce's embrace.

"I warned you, Tony," Natasha spoke softly, coming over to brush my hair out of my face. I opened my eyes to see most of the team wearing identical looks of astonishment and worry, their eyes focused on me. Natasha was the only one who had respect clearly written on her face. "C'mon, let's go sit down so you can tell us what happened."

I avoided their eyes, fitfully clutching Bruce's arm as all of us sat down on the couch in a pile of superheroes. I guess I could be counted as one too, after the stunt I'd pulled. The mercenary was nowhere to be seen; Bucky's shirt bore bloodstains so I assumed he took the man to the underground levels where he and Natasha kept a few cells for off-the-record interrogations.

"So?" Tony's voice was hard; he avoided my face, too.

"Planned a plan. Executed the plan. It mostly worked, except the merc was possessed, too. He took out Eddie, I volunteered as a host. We ate the croonies," I stuttered slightly, fighting with myself to call the things by their names without having to throw up. "Grabbed the merc, grabbed Eddie and went home." I stared straight ahead, only partially aware of Bruce's disappointed sigh behind me.

"And it never crossed your mind that you shouldn't be doing this? All this hiding, this lying?" Tony asked, finally settling his hard stare on me. "There are professionals already working on this. It's not your job." His words were harsh but truthful.

Only this truth didn't sit well with me. I'd been monitored for years; there were too many secrets kept from me, too many what-ifs hung over my head. It was made worse by the uncertainty: did Tony know? Did Natasha know? Who else was hiding the fact that there had been a target on my back all along?

"Isn't it?" Anger began to creep in. I shrugged off Bruce's arm. "Isn't it my job to know your little organisation has been onto my ass for years? Isn't it my job to know I would have ended up in that position anyways, considering the fact that at least one hostile mutant gang wanted me to help them take over the world?" I stood up, interlocking my hands behind my back to conceal the shaking fingers. "Isn't it may fucking job to make sure that someone does something about the fact that my family is going crazy from helplessness?" I finished, looking directly at Tony. I hated seeing him recoil but some things needed to be said. "If you expected me to sit and do nothing while this bullshit is happening, you do not know me. At all."

"Years?" Barton interrupted in confusion. "I didn't even know you existed until Peter brought you over."

"Yes, Bird, years," I began to pace in agitation. "Apparently, many people think I'm much smarter than I am. I'm sure Cabre will be happy to tell you all about it," I sneered, stopping in front of the window to look at the dim, sleeping city. "Everybody seems to know about me more than I know about myself. I'm sick and I'm tired of people telling me what to do."

The silence behind me was telling. Maybe they really didn't know or maybe they just didn't really care. I wasn't naïve, I didn't expect gratitude for doing what I did but understanding would have been nice. Paradoxically, Venom's attitude was the most humane out of the whole gang. I hated being disappointed in people but ultimately, their safety and happiness was much more important than my feelings. They gave me a family - even if it was for a brief moment - and I owed them for it.

"Princess," Stephen's voice returned me back to reality. "We do not blame you. At least, I do not. We just want to know why didn't you trust us to help you," He pleaded quietly.

"It's not that I don't trust you. It's the fact you still consider me a child, some wilting flower. And perhaps, sometimes I act carefree," I inspected their reflection in the darkness of the glass pane. "But the truth is, I do not forget and I rarely forgive. And I definitely do not appreciate some random motherfucker messing around with people that I love," As soon as those words left my mouth, the heaviness from my shoulders disappeared. "And I don't regret it. I will burn down everything and everyone if I have even the slightest chance to protect what's mine."

A sharp intake of breath, someone choking on a sob. I closed my eyes, not ready to see the disappointed faces of my family - in moments like these, their heroic nature on stark display, I realized how much I did not fit amongst the do-gooders. The work I did was forever going to be the ungrateful kind; that much I've known forever but it didn't make facing that fact any less hard.

Soft, feminine hand landed on my shoulder as Natasha's perfume invaded my personal space. "I'm proud of you," The spy said quietly, wrapping the arm around my shoulders. "You did everything we couldn't do. That's a big deal if you ask me."

"And just like that, we're supposed to be okay with... This?" Steve's voice sounded exhausted.

"Yes," Bucky replied darkly. "If it was me in that place, you would have done the same. Oh wait," His tone turned sarcastic. "You did do the same. So, shut up, punk. We're lucky bastards if we have a person like that on our side."

I expected tears but none came. I felt nothing but relief, painful, as if I had spent weeks and weeks cramped up in a small space, unable to freely move and breathe.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @warrior1-19 @toomanyrobins @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming

[themagiciansreccenter]

The Great Blank Spot: Greywash

So much goes into creating fanfiction even before the first words hit the paper. And in-depth spotlight on our writers and the process behind their work.

Tell us about your current project.

I'm finishing up the sequel to "Firebird"—or, well, really, the story that "Firebird" is a prequel to. It's called "The Marriage Plot" and it's a fake-fake-marriage story, or an un-arranged marriage story, or something: basically it starts with a political misunderstanding that *looks* like the only way out is going to be Eliot and Quentin getting married. Spoiler: that's not what happens.

The fics are finally posted from The Trials. Did you participate?

No, I came into the fandom after The Trials started, so I missed it, but I'm still reading my way through everyone's submissions and really enjoying them!

What is your current word count?

104,069 words, but I revise/cut/rewrite a lot as I go so that goes up and down.

Do you try to write daily? Do you have a word count or other goals you try to hit for each writing session?

I write every morning for about an hour and a half before work—or, well, I sit and work on fiction for about an hour and a half: sometimes that's freewriting, or reading, or editing. I'm trying to be less focused on output quantity and more on time spent this year, since trying for output goals seems to encourage some not-good strains in my mental health whatsits to go mad with power and make my life suck.

What was the inspiration for this fic?

Ahahahahahah oh dear. Um—the answer to that question is hugely spoilery, so I guess I'll say: the last six lines of dialogue, which sort of ~came to me in a vision~, or whatever, and then... the whole rest of the story sort of... constructed itself around that. But I think I can say that I'd been thinking/obsessing about Fillorian marriage, and how—like, skin-crawlingly horrific I find it as a concept, and *why* I find it so skin-crawlingly horrific, before I started working on "The Marriage Plot," and that definitely—informed the story, let's say.

How do you stay motivated between chapters/stories?

I don't have a huge problem staying motivated... for me it's more that I have SO MUCH STUFF I want to work on, so I have trouble staying focused. I have this little Penny-centric fic that I want to get done before the end of the current fan_flashworks round, so I have like 24 hours, and I also have a Penny/Quentin story that'll go up in the next FFW amnesty, and... possibly one or more *other* stories for FFW amnesties that are either done or mostly done, and I just! I am really bad!! at staying focused on one project.

On the motivation front, though, I will say that a big part of why I don't tend to lose motivation is that I never leave projects "at a good stopping point". This seems really counterintuitive, but it helped me *so* much when I started doing this: I almost always end a writing session by getting to a good stopping point, and then writing 9/10ths of the next sentence or paragraph. I like to have a sentence waiting for me where the ending is obvious but not actually written down, so I open it up the next morning and I'm like, "oh, that's supposed to end, 'with his palm'" or whatever, so I have that really easy in for getting back into the swing of writing.

Did this fic require any research? How much research do you typically do for your fics?

I do do quite a bit of research, but I don't typically do research in advance. I'm, like, the anti-planner, I am *so* bad at planning stories, so I kind of write until I hit a point where I'm like "oh, God, I actually do need to know how you go about getting a marriage license in New York, don't I," and then I spend like three hours on the NY city clerk's office website or whatever. I think the thing where I was looking up how to get a marriage license in New York came up like 30,000 words into this story, or something. And a lot of times I'll {{bracket something I need to look up later, like this}} and then just keep working, and fill it in in less high-value writing time—I do that on my lunch breaks a lot, so I can keep my block writing time in the morning for actually making new words.

Do you typically write ahead or post as you go?

It really depends on the project. Somewhat ironically, I mentioned this on Dreamwidth earlier this morning, but I actually usually kind of hate posting things as WsIP unless I am well ahead and very, very sure I can finish quickly. I got kind of trapped by a multi-year WIP in //Sherlock// fandom, which—I love that story, I just wish I wasn't posting it as a WIP. (Though it also wouldn't be that story if I hadn't posted it as a WIP, so... whatever, que sera sera, et cetera.)

When I was posting "Firebird", I started out with... I think I was drafted five chapters ahead at the start? Six? Maybe? I honestly don't remember, but I do know it rapidly fell to four and then kind of froze there, because I knew I needed to have Ch. 8 *very* nailed down before Ch. 4 went up, because I was back-editing all the way to 4 as I wrote 8. And I didn't want to back-edit live work. But then I hit a like... 9/10ths draft place on 8 and burned through that entire posting cushion *super* fast during the last few days I was finishing 8, because 8 was almost the last thing I finished—I had 9 and 10 almost completely drafted before I finished 8, and that's pretty typical of me, to write sort of medium-out of order. So 9 and 10 went up basically as soon as they were edited, because I didn't have that cushion anymore. But "Firebird" lent itself to WIP posting because it has, you know, like. Plot, and excitement, and some sort of cliffhanger-y bits here and there; "The Marriage Plot" won't be posted as a WIP, because it's very interior and relationship-focused, and it just doesn't lend itself to that treatment. The most I might do on something like that is post it consecutively over a few days just to not have to edit all the HTML on 100k+ of fiction in one go.

How much planning and outlining did you do before you started putting words on paper?

Almost none! Ahahaha. I had a freewritten story outline, but I tend to do all my fiction discovery by writing fiction, so I have to be really willing to try things and toss them out, which is what I do instead of actually outlining. I'm thinking about making a pretty huge change to "The Marriage Plot" right now, actually, and am sketching it out by writing some short stories that happen in the (mostly off-screen) 6-9 months between "Firebird" and "The Marriage Plot," and seeing how things crystallize. So I may be about to toss out like 20k of fiction! I don't know, we'll see!

Has it been pretty smooth sailing or rough waters? When things get rocky, how do you handle needing to rewrite sections or scrap scenes entirely?

Oh, I tooooootally don't mind rewriting. I write really fast but am bad at planning, or well—bad at seeing what it'll take to get the characters to where I need them to be emotionally, so mass rewriting just kind of comes with the territory. I also write in Scrivener, which has a Snapshots feature that makes it much less stressful to hose something—I can always go back and look at a previous version if I want a line or a paragraph or to take it back entirely.

Teaser

"Well, no," Alice says, and then her mouth twists, tightening up. "I sort of—I told them that they couldn't have Quentin, because he was already engaged."

"What?" Quentin says; and Eliot grabs at Quentin's tipping wine glass, just in time.

"Look, I had to tell them something, all right?" Alice snaps at him. "Sorry, but I didn't think you wanted to get married to some conceited isolationist—"

"To who, Alice?" Margo interrupts; and Alice stops again, and then flushes.

"I had—well, the only way I could think of to convince them was the—well, you know, when Eliot got deposed," Alice says.

"We *both* got deposed," says Margo, tight; and Alice says, "Yes, *yes*, you *did*, but then *you* took the throne and now *Eliot's* on your council, so I told them—"

"You told them," Margo finishes, "that to prevent civil war, I offered my most powerful rival my only virgin son in marriage."

"Well," Alice says. "Basically—yes."

There is a long moment of silence.

"Well," Eliot says, finally. "I'm not sure how anyone could've foreseen *that* one going wrong."

The Great Blank Spot is an in-depth spotlight focusing on the writing process and previewing in-progress fics for our fandom. It is meant to be an organic, ever-evolving feature. Previously interviewed fic writers can reach out to us here, to have a specific work featured. If you’d like to have a work featured but haven’t done the author spotlight, reach out to us to get started. If you have suggestions for questions you’d like to see answered, shoot us an ask!