am i the only one who thinks she made her wig out of her real hair

Missed Connection

Stiles/Derek, 1.5K words, Rated G, AU, Meet Cute

I heard this story on NPR this morning and of course, couldn’t resist Sterek-ing it. 

Stiles yawned, burped, and stood up. “Okay, I’m heading out.”

Kira pouted and leaned against his thigh. “Aw. You sure?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Stiles was still drunk, but it was fading and he didn’t really feel like drinking any more. “But you should stay, I’ll just take an Uber by myself.”

“Okay.” Kira yawned and flopped in the other direction, against Allison, who patted her absently on the knee. “I might stay here.”

“Text me if you do,” he said, waving, and she gave him a clumsy thumbs up. Stiles picked his way out of the house party, dodging games of beer pong as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He opened the Uber app with a grimace—three a.m. on the Saturday of Halloween weekend probably meant long wait times and/or surge pricing—but was pleasantly surprised to see only a five-minute wait.

By the time Stiles went to the bathroom and said goodbye to a couple of people, Rachel was idling by the curb in her promised red Camry. “Hello!” he said cheerfully as he climbed into the backseat, and she smiled at him in the rearview mirror.

“Hey. Happy Halloween.”

“What’s the weirdest costume you’ve seen tonight?” he asked, and she laughed.

“Let’s see…earlier I had a girl in a very large, very realistic-looking squid costume.”

Stiles laughed. “Awesome.”

“We’ve got one pick-up on the way,” Rachel said, and Stiles yawned as he rested his cheek against the cool glass of the window.

“No problem.”

They only drove for a few minutes before Rachel glided to a stop at a corner. The other backseat door opened, and a tall guy startled as he ducked down into the car.

Stiles grinned. “Are you scared of clowns?”

“No.” The guy rolled his eyes and settled into the seat, stretching out his long legs.

“Are you sure? My costume’s pretty great.”

“It is,” he admitted. “But I’m also not scared of clowns.”

Stiles scratched at his wig. This guy was seriously hot, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, and Stiles temporarily wished that he wasn’t dressed as a freaky clown. “So what are you supposed to be?”

The guy tilted his head, raised one admittedly-magnificent eyebrow, and gestured at himself. “A lumberjack.”

The duh went unspoken, and Stiles gave him a flat look. “Seriously? So let me guess, you grabbed a plaid shirt out of your closet and didn’t shave for like 36 hours.”

“Are you shaming me for my dedication to my costume right now?”

“Your lack of dedication,” Stiles corrected. “And yes, yes I am.”

“I can tell that you really care a lot about Halloween.”

“Uh, yes I do. The sanctity of Halloween is to be respected, and you’re in clear violation of that right now.”

The lumberjack hummed and scratched at his dumb, beautiful lumberjack beard. “So what’s the punishment for such an egregious violation?”

Stiles made a show of thinking about it. “Being made fun of by me. And Rachel,” he added.

“I think your costume is fine,” Rachel piped in, and Stiles threw up his hands.

“Ouch. Wow, such a betrayal, Rachel, honestly. I was here first, does that not count for anything anymore?”

The lumberjack laughed and shifted in his seat so he was facing Stiles. “My friend showed up at the party I was at as an accountant. And that’s his job in real life, so he just wore his normal clothes.”

“Okay, that’s worse,” Stiles admitted. “But it still doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook.”

“Darn,” he said, his tone as dry as a bone. “You know, my greatest goal is to be in your good graces.”

Stiles huffed. “As it should be.”

The car stopped again, and the lumberjack unbuckled his seatbelt. “Bye, Pennywise,” he said, then waved toward the front seat. “Thanks, have a good night.”

Rachel waved back, and Stiles stared shamelessly out the window as the lumberjack took the stairs two at a time up to his building. “Wow,” he said absently. “I should’ve asked for his number, huh? He was hot.”

“He was,” Rachel agreed. “And he was totally flirting with you.”

Stiles tipped his head back against the seat and groaned.

Kira shuffled through their front door around noon. “Please tell me that there’s coffee.”

“Of course!” Stiles called out from his spot on the couch. He’d woken up with only a minor headache, miraculously, which had been swiftly taken care of by an egg sandwich and two cups of coffee.

Kira sat down next to him, cradling her giant coffee mug against her chest as gently as she would a baby, and gestured to the small pile of flyers on their coffee table. “What’s this?”

“My, uh, morning project,” he said, handing her one.

“I was Pennywise,” Kira read, “and you were a low-effort lumberjack. We met in the back of an Uber at three a.m. last night, and I’m kicking myself for not asking for your number. Text me the name of our driver if you’d like to get a drink sometime, I swear I’m handsome under all the makeup.”

Kira started cracking up, and Stiles grinned. “You like it?”

“That’s amazing. So you met a lumberjack last night?”

Stiles nodded. “He was hilarious. And really attractive. And our driver thought he was flirting with me, so y’know, take from that what you will.”

Kira laughed again. “Where are you gonna put them up?”

“He got dropped off first, he lives just a few blocks from here. So I’ll just do that block, probably. That’s not too creepy, is it?”

Kira hummed. “No. It’d be creepy if you, like, knocked on the door of his building. But this is cute. And he can just ignore it if he wants to.”

“Okay.” Stiles collected up the flyers and reached for the stapler. “Wish me luck, then.”

Stiles got a bunch of random texts that afternoon, most that either wished him luck or just said “lol.” His phone buzzed again around six p.m., and he dove for it, like he’d been doing all day.

Now my whole neighborhood knows that I didn’t put much effort into my costume, so thank you for that.

Stiles grinned down at his phone like an idiot. He saved the number in his phone as “The Lumberjack,” even before the second text came through.

(Her name was Rachel, by the way.)

That’s your fault, dude. If you’d had a better costume, I wouldn’t have had to publicly shame you.

I got invited to a party last minute! I didn’t have many options.

Then you should have unbuttoned the plaid and at least gone as a SEXY lumberjack.

Ah. Next year, then.

No, next year I’ll be inviting you to a Halloween party with plenty of advance notice. So you should start brainstorming now.

I’ll have to ask you for advice.

So will I seem too forward if I ask you for a drink tonight?

I literally printed flyers and put them up outside your building, I really don’t think you have to worry about “forward.”

That bar on the corner at 8?

Dude, I will be there with bells on.

And I’ll be able to recognize you by the costume?

Very funny.

Stiles stopped outside of the bar at 8:02 and hopped up and down a couple times, trying to shake the nervousness out. He’d been giving himself a pep talk for the whole walk over, and he almost believed it.

Worst case scenario, the guy was just fucking with him, and then Stiles would have a funny story to tell. Best case, he’d get to kiss a cute guy, and Stiles was comfortable with those odds.

After one last deep breath, Stiles pulled the door open. He shrugged out of his coat and scanned the bar. He spotted the guy almost instantly, sitting in the corner and half-facing the door. The lumberjack beard was trimmed down a little bit and the plaid shirt had been replaced by a henley, but otherwise he looked exactly the same. And exactly as handsome as Stiles had remembered, score.

Once he was halfway across the bar, their eyes met. Stiles felt it, the same connection he felt in the car last night, and he swallowed.

“Hey,” he called out, once he was within earshot, and the guy smiled at him. “Sorry if you were expecting Pennywise.”

The guy stood and moved his coat off the bar stool next to him, gesturing to it. “This version is much nicer,” he said sincerely, and Stiles huffed out a laugh, ducking his head.

“So I fully plan to keep calling you ‘The Lumberjack’ in my head, but I should probably also know your real name,” he blurted out, and the guy laughed. There were dimples underneath the beard, and Stiles was going to die.

“Derek.” He held his hand out, and Stiles shook it.

“Stiles. Very nice to meet you again.”

The Elsewhere Child

He was supposed to take my memories when he brought me here, the seelie knight, who had been commanded to escort me home with a simple “take it away, it’s too old now and it bores me” from the noble who had kept me for the past while. I traded him my singing voice for them though, and now where once sweet music poured from my lips only hoarse and untuned notes fall out without any of the tempo or melody they had before. Now I think I made a bad trade. It might have been better, if I didn’t remember, or remembered something else entirely.

I stare at the boy next to me in the circle, I was asked to join this circle as a way to make me feel part of something, part of a circle. They call the circle a support group for abducted children. Children who were abducted and got away, that is, I don’t think there’s a support group for those currently abducted. Their abductors wouldn’t allow them to attend, I suppose. The boy is speaking about the man who touched him, speaking of the horrible way he loved that man, because he was a child, and he had to love someone. Are his memories true? Or is he like me? Did a faerie take him away, and replace the memories from Under the Hill with these tragedies? Why? Did he commit some crime? I cannot say.

I am fascinated by the girl who sits next to the girl directly across from me in the circle. She tells us to call her Angie. She wears ratty clothes, not the sort of poor chic that seems to be an underlying trend, with jackets made of patches and ribbed cloth sold at malls, but real grunge. The tears in her sleeves reveal razor scars, her hair is short, she wants to look tough, she wants people to cross the street to get away from her when they see her coming. She is not tough. She is nervous, always nervous, always afraid, though she hides it well. None of these things are too interesting to me, those things I can see anywhere, but I thought context would be important so that the fact that she’s a pathological liar would not be the only thing you knew about her.

She is a pathological liar.

Her lies fascinate me.

After group chat, I take her aside and we talk, sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, and I watch her fabricate thousands of untruths, from tiny white ones to huge fantastical ones as bright and colorful as her life has never been. Some days, I believe everything she says and some days I question each word, trying to figure out her secret.

It’s a strange thing, I was taken before I really knew my name, and each faerie that’s kept me (I was a pet for them) called me something different. Do I even have a true name? I’ve been Jane Doe since I showed up, stumbling barefoot and confused into a police station moments after midnight (at least the knight knew to leave me near a place of authority), so I’ve been introducing myself as Roe, like the deer. They ran my DNA through the missing children’s database (I didn’t understand what that was at first, was shocked at how closely humans had approximated magic with computers), but there was no match. I told them I didn’t know how long ago I’d been abducted, and suggested that it might have been before the database was made. They laughed and said I was eighteen, and DNA technology had been around much longer than me. I tried to explain that time was different where I had been kept, but they simply patted me on my head and told me they were sure that it seemed that way to me at the time.

They stared at me worriedly when one of them brought me a McDonald’s Happy Meal, and I asked what she wanted for it. She told me nothing. No one here ever asks for anything besides courtesy in return for their food, but old habits are hard to break. Even now, in my foster home, I cannot help insisting that my hosts confirm that this food is a gift freely given. They asked me to help them cook and I broke down in tears because there was a cast iron skillet on the stove (“Please don’t make me, iron burns, iron burns, and it gets under your skin and makes you go grey and lifeless like a flower severed from its roots, plea-please, please don’t make me”). It took them an hour to convince me that they weren’t trying to force me to poison myself, and the food burned (“I said I would help you, you asked me to cook and I agreed, but, but please don’t make me, it burns, it’ll burn me!” “It’s alright darling, you don’t have to cook if you don’t want to.” “But I said I would! It was an oath!” “We’re sorry, we wouldn’t have asked if we’d known it would upset you, you can help some other way if you like.” “You… absolve me of my oath?” “Yes, of course we do darling!”).

I am more comfortable with iron now, I am not one of the Fair Folk, after all, it will not harm me. Correction, a blade of iron would harm me, but not because it was made of iron. It does, however, mess with my glamor.

It is a difficult thing, growing up bathed in magic and yet to have none of your own. A pixie once spoke of how she envied my hair, and I said, on impulse, “do you want it?” So a trade was made. She gave me the ability to change my appearance, and she walked away with my hair. I expected my hair to grow back after a time though… it did not. With my glamor I can have the appearance of having whatever hair I please, and sometimes I change it daily, but when I sleep or when iron is near my bare head is revealed. It is assumed by my hosts and everyone around me that I have many wigs, I have told them I do not, but they don’t believe in magic, so they insist on believing this instead.

I hide when I hear thunder, duck into a bathroom and put everything on backward and inside out if I’m in public, or simply sit quiet if I’m home. The first time I did this, it shook me to my core when someone told me “You know, your shirt is on backward.” I started to panic, until I realized that I could see myself too. It was a revelation, discovering that there was something humans could see that the Good Neighbors couldn’t.

It still boggles my mind how much people throw away, tears and menstrual blood caught on napkins, or gifts from that one aunt that they held onto for so long for the sentimental value but can’t keep now because they have to move into a smaller apartment, or the shirt they can’t wear anymore because it smells like their ex. They could trade these items to faeries for so many things, and yet they simply throw them away. What a waste.

My hosts insisted I should have a proper education, and after three years of homeschooling (to get me caught up) I applied to attend the local state college. There I found more people who fascinate me the way Angie does. There’s Lisa, who fights for animal rights, and Kyle, the leader of the Gay Straight Alliance group, and Riley, who’s going into the Peace Corps next year because they want to help the world. I ask them all the time why they do what they do, what they expect to get back, and they tell me that ideally they’ll make the world a better place, and that will pay them back eventually, but that they don’t do it for what they’ll get back, they do it because it’s right. I don’t understand. There’s Cheyenne, who always gets into intense political debates with other people over dinner in the cafeteria, and she believes so intensely about things that don’t even affect her, and she fights for them, and she tells me she does this because it’s right, and I don’t understand. I’ve never met anyone who cared about anything other than themselves Under the Hill. Faeries can’t lie, they can’t go back on their word, they honor their deals and make sure you honor them too, they repay debts and ensure they’re repaid in turn, they amuse themselves playing or squabbling over power, but they do not do things for free. They don’t care about things for free. They don’t defend the innocent, protect the weak, or forgive the ignorant. The culture shock coming here is bewildering.

If I could I’d honor my debts, leave a pile of gold at the doorstep of everyone who’s done me a kindness, but I have not the magic to do so. The drainage ponds hold no sirens, the falling snow has no frolicking pixies between its flakes, there is no magic for me to use here… or is there?

Perhaps I can’t call upon the magic Under the Hill, perhaps I can’t summon gold or make deals with darklings, but I can find magic here, I’ve seen others do it. I’ve seen a moon so beautiful it sends shivers down your spine captured by a little lense-box and put onto thick shiny paper. I’ve seen songs and stories written with such emotion that it moves those who hear them to tears, to laughter, to dancing, to life. I’ve seen kitchen witches cure colds with hot chicken soup, and I’ve seen holy men ward off tricksters they can’t even see with the power of their belief.

Perhaps I can find a way to create my own magic, and do what other people seem to strive to do to repay their debts. Perhaps I can make the world a better place, and learn the magic of humanity. And as for the places where magic does live? Where the boundary between worlds is thin and the drainage ponds and snowflakes carry faerie magic within? …I think I’ll be staying far away, for my part. I might still have a lot to learn, but I think I like it better here.

Yesterday’s Enterprise - 3.15

Now, you might be thinking, “haven’t you all done this one already?” And you would be right, TECHNICALLY we have “done” this one. But that post is from SEVEN YEARS AGO and it is QUITE UNDERWHELMING. It’s literally like the second post we ever did. So upon the recommendation of Friend of the Blog Grace M., I’m revisiting this one. 

It starts with a charming scene between Guinan and Worf in which Guinan is wearing one of her signature “teardrop” hats:

What’s the likelihood that there is a nail polish called Aubergine-ius out there somewhere

Keep reading


Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: none, really. Some fluff, some dark Steve

Words: 2.4k

All credit goes to Marvel

Originally posted by luvinchris

Steve flipped the picture in his hands over and over, looking at the picture itself, then the date on the back of it. September 29th, 2016. The date seemed so long ago. He stared at the picture a little longer. He committed every small detail of it to memory; the way her hair flowed with the wind, her radiant smile, her eyes. Oh god, her eyes, he thought. He bit his lip, carefully folding the picture back into his wallet. How was he supposed to live on like this? Without her?

“Dad, I don’t know if this is a good idea. At least not yet.” You pleaded with your father. Nick Fury sat at the table across from you, elbows up on the table.

“You are the only option right now, Y/N. Everyone on the team is down and we need you.” Nick said affirmatively. You knew that tone of voice. That tone of voice meant you weren’t getting out of this. “All you have to do is make sure that James Buchanan Barnes is stable and true to the Avengers Initiative. We don’t need any more HYDRA in this world and he has some pretty strong ties to them.” You looked at your dad, Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“It’ll take two weeks tops. Maybe one depending on what you see. I promise you won’t be in there for longer than you have to.” He put his hand over yours reassuringly and you took a deep breath. Fury slid over the steel briefcase and you opened it, surveying the photostatic veil in front of you. “Wearing this at all times is necessary. The Avengers already know you as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. If they suspect that one of us is spying on one of them, the mission is compromised and there’s no telling what will happen. As we all know, Steve Rogers is a bit of a loose cannon when it comes to Bucky Barnes. We can’t risk him hurting you if he finds out what you’re up to.”

“Right, so who am I, again?” You asked. Your nerves were on fire with anxiety, whether it was good anxiety or bad anxiety, you weren’t sure. You squeezed your dad’s hand a little tighter.

“You’re Marie Laveau, Stark’s new assistant. He knows why you’re there, but he doesn’t know who you really are. He doesn’t trust Barnes either. He’ll show you everything and give you the inside briefing. You’re from San Antonio, moved here when you were nine years old to live with your aunt after your parents were killed in a deadly gambling ring. You won’t be there long, so you don’t need much more information, and if they ask, I trust you won’t blow your cover. Now come on, I’ll bring you to the tower. You can put your face on in the car.” Nick stood up, gesturing for you to follow. You and your dad stood up, too. You gave him a hug and grabbed the briefcase before following Fury.

“Tell May I bought more celery for her breakfast shakes!” You called. Your dad smiled and nodded as you sat down in the passenger seat of Nick’s car.

“You know, you didn’t have to cut and dye your hair.” He said, pulling out of the restaurant parking lot.

“Oh, I didn’t,” you pulled off your jet black wig, exposing your natural hair underneath it. “You’re not the only one who thought disguise.” You saw him crack a (rare) smile.

“So I guess spending the entirety of your life training you to be a spy didn’t go to waste, huh?”

“Well, I had some pretty good teachers.”

“You’re doing this at the right time,” Tony began. “Barnes is just starting to warm up to everyone, but he’s still slightly reserved. I feel like he’s keeping something from us, something from Steve. Oh, here’s Diana’s room. You’ll be staying here.” He gestured to the room you would be staying and you felt instantly relaxed by looking around.

“Thanks, Tony.” you said sincerely. You gave him a grateful smile and he nodded, putting your luggage on the queen-sized bed.

“No, thank you. I need to keep my team together. But I need to trust Barnes before I do that,” You nodded understandingly. “Dinner’s at five, so you have time to wash up or get situated or whatever you needed to do.” With that, he gave you a tight smile before leaving, shutting your door behind him. You pressed your hands against your mattress, welcoming the familiar softness of it, and you hung your head. It’s gonna be a long two weeks, you thought.

When you came down for dinner that night, you sat at the long bar table with a piece of pizza in front of you and a knife and fork in hand. “You’re the only person I know, besides Diana, that eats pizza like that.” Nat remarked. Steve’s head popped up to look at you and then your hands, still holding the silverware. He looked at you skeptically in a way that made your skin crawl.

“I don’t like getting pizza grease on my fingers.” You shrugged and crinkled your nose. Nat nodded and went back to eating her slice, but Steve’s eyes lingered on you for just a bit longer and you averted your gaze back to your pizza, busying yourself with cutting into it and taking a bite.

Bucky came over and plopped down next to Steve, grabbing himself a slice of buffalo chicken pizza and nearly shoving the entire thing in his mouth. Steve whispered something in Bucky’s ears and you saw Bucky glance at you in the corner of your eyes. You picked at your lip and felt your cheeks heat up, and you were thankful that the photo-static veil wouldn’t show it. Steve stood up, throwing his now-empty plate away before excusing himself. You watched as he stalked out of the room. Bucky came over and sat down by you.

“Don’t take it personal, you just remind him a lot about Diana. Everybody here’s still upset that she’s gone and they don’t like to talk about it, but I know a lot about her from her file and what Steve’s told me. Walk with me, I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” Bucky looked into your eyes and you could tell he was serious. You finished your piece and threw your plate away, instantly going to follow the brunet who was already halfway out the door.

“Diana was great. She was sweet, but wouldn’t hesitate to bring one of us to the floor if she didn’t like what someone was doing. She was incredibly intelligent, easily beating out Clint and Natasha in almost any subject. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but they called her an ‘Honorary Avenger’ because she went on a lot of missions with them. That’s how her and Steve got close and how they started dating. They were never public about their relationship though, they thought people would use them against each other, making them vulnerable. They loved each other too much that they’d pick each other’s lives to save over their own.”

“Sounds dangerous, to say the least. What happened to her?” You kicked at a rock as you and Bucky walked back to the tower, now with two cups of hot chocolate.

“She was presumed dead after an Extremis blew up in a bar. She was trying to save this kid, Harley, I think. He was real special to Tony, but Tony was down for the count when Harley ran into the bar, trying to save some file. Tony begged and yelled after Harley not to go in, but it was too late. The building burst into flames and Diana ran in, diving under beams and structures that had fallen over. She pushed Harley out, but one of the rafters fell on top of her, and they couldn’t get to her in time. They never found her, all the bodies were too charred to be recognizable. Not even dental records could help.”

“Steve hasn’t been the same since?”

“No, but can you blame him? Captain America losing the love of his life? He was almost mad when Pepper was the one to kill Aldrich Killian, the guy who created it. Steve wanted to do it himself.” You guys stopped walking when you reached the steps to the common room. “I guess I credit her with being why I joined the Avengers. The punk’s lost so much in life that he needs someone who understands. I just want him to be happy, that’s what we all want. So it makes more sense for me to be on his side instead of an enemy, doing the right thing for once instead of being some brainwashed psychopath killer.”

You threw your empty hot chocolate cup into the trashcan and shoved your hands in your pockets. “I appreciate you telling me all of this now so I don’t make an ignorant remark later. I don’t want to upset him.” You said. Bucky nodded, pressing his lips together. He opened the door for you and you stepped inside. Your eyes instantly landed on Steve, sitting on the couch and reading the newspaper.

He glanced up at you before focusing back on his paper. You frowned a little at how distant he was with you, but you couldn’t blame him. He probably felt bothered that you were staying in Diana’s old room. You shrugged it off and went to your new room anyways. You had to text your dad and Fury, and then take a hot shower to make up for the cold night air.

Me: Had some one-on-one time with Barnes. His intentions look good, but I’ll stay the full week to be sure.

Dad: Remember your cover, stay safe.

Fury: Dig up any dirt you can. I want a thorough report of him.

You turned your phone’s screen off and placed it on the counter of the bathroom, making sure to lock the door before pulling your wig off as well and stepping into the hot, inviting water of your shower.

“Hey, Steve, Tony wants to know when you’re ready to try out the new suit.” You popped your head through his door. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring intently at a picture. He coughed and folded it back into his pocket before nodding and standing up to follow you to the lab. When he reached the door where you were standing, he did a once-over of you. Not in a ‘checking you out’ sort of way, but another skeptical glance. You froze momentarily, fearing that Steve was way too smart and could probably see right past your cover.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Okay, Laveau, I want you to take a shot at Steve. Anywhere you want. Preferably not in the nether regions. Or the chest. The legs and stomach are fair game though.” Tony said. He tossed you a gun and you caught the trigger on your ring finger. They braced for the bullet that they assumed would be shot, but it never came. Instead, the gun balanced delicately off your finger.

“What?” You asked. Tony and Steve stood up from their crouched positions and stared at you in shock.

“Uh, nothing. Diana just used to do that a lot, kinda her thing, I guess.” Tony said. You frowned.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Must’ve just been a lucky catch.” You shrugged the comment off. “Steve, are you ready?” He nodded, and braced his body. Tony had been working on the new 100% vibranium suit for weeks now, he told you, and he was excited to test it out. Steve, however, was a bit nervous to be shot at for experimental purposes.

You fired off one shot, one at his thigh. Then you fired another at his stomach. One at his shoulder, and one at his arm. Tony watched as the bullets bounced off Steve’s uniform. Steve’s face was contorted in pain, but nothing went past his armor. When he opened his eyes and stared down at himself, he grinned at his bullet-less body and looked at Tony, who was beaming. You used this moment to excuse yourself. “Well, if that’s all you need, sir, Bucky asked me to dinner and I should get going.” Tony waved you off, too excited by his success to pay much attention. You slipped out of the room.

You walked back into your bedroom after dinner with Bucky, whom you had a surprisingly good time with. You had decided that further investigation to him wasn’t needed. In fact, he spent nearly the entire time raving over the Avengers and his missions with them. He told you about growing up with Steve and how happy he was when he was pulled out of cryostasis and found out Steve Rogers was still alive. He was even happier when he found out that Steve was still around his age, non-biologically. You dropped your keys onto the table by your door and looked into the little mirror above it, taking out your earrings. You jumped out of your shoes when you heard Steve’s voice. “Diana Locke was a great spy, amazing even. She was an expert marksman. But she also had her ticks. She picked at her lip when she was nervous. She ate her pizza with a knife and fork,” you froze, still turned away from him. “In fact, she’s even your exact height.”

“Steve, I’m sorry. Bucky told me about Diana, but she’s dead, and I-“, he cut you off.

“Oh, yeah. Diana’s dead. Diana was a cover though. Everybody believes that she died in that Extremis fire, but only I know that she used that fire and belief that she was dead to run off and find a new alias, a new cover, because she had blown hers while saving Harley.” He stalked up behind you, but you still didn’t move aside from letting him shove a picture into your hand. You brought it up in front of you and studied it. It was a photo of him and Diana. They smiled brightly at the camera with Diana lifted high onto his shoulders. She held up an American flag as her hair blew in the wind behind her. “I was the only one lucky enough to know her real name. Her true self. I know her better than herself sometimes. I’m the only one who can keep up with her.” You turned to face him and he hovered his hand over your photo-static veil, pulling it off of your face. You helped him by reaching behind you and sliding off the wig, letting your natural hair fall back onto your shoulders, framing your face. He stared at you, a smile taking over his features.

“So, what was her name, Steve?” You breathed out.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”

Miracul-ass: Heroes of Paris XXX

Adrien finds a porn video featuring Ladybug and Chat Noir. AO3 link

Frankly, it was surprising it hadn’t happened sooner.

Two young, attractive people who had a large fanbase. Of course there would be porn of them. It was the internet afterall. It had been three years since they started and there were probably terabytes of Ladybug and Chat Noir porn on the internet. It was one of the basic rules of the internet.

But Adrien didn’t expect to actually watch porn of himself and his crush.

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anonymous asked:

What if in sticky situations Scout would be used as a distraction for the team?

Yes. Oh God yes.

Scout has gone through re-spawn more time than the entire team put together.

One time the team had gone out drinking at the local bar, they ended up getting into a fist fight with everyone. It got so bad that the cops where called. None of the mercs wanted to sleep in a cell that night so Scout was used as a distraction so that the rest of the team could make their escape.

Solider called out that the cops where here, but there was only one police car. It was now or never for the Boston. Taking off his top and hat, he left the bar going towards the police men.
“Hey boys you looking for a good time”
“Please move aside sir”
“Oh come on, if you like I’ll take the both of ya”
The Police are not impressed and walk around Scout. The man starts to panic he needs to buy the team more time. Taking a deep breath Scout slaps on the cops on the ass.
“What!? Am I not handsome enough for you?”
That’s the last straw for the cops as Scout is pushed to the ground and cuffed. There’s no going back now. Scout keeps talking.
“Oh aren’t you a kinky one. Handcuffs and all. If ya want you can keep the uniform on. I’m always down for roleplaying.”
Out from the corner of his eye he can see Engi giving a thumbs up. It’s going to be a long night.

I also have this idea.  

The team had been called to protect a target, a CEO from a company. The mission had gone well, Miss Pauling had killed the assassin. But there was a new problem; they couldn’t escape from the charity event that this CEO had thrown on. Each time a merc would leave a conversation a new one would start up. This called for plan; a distraction. The biggest one Scout would have every put on.

He had made his way upstairs and into the host’s room where he was now getting changed in to a loose dress. Whoever this CEO guy was married to she had no taste is clothing. He then found make up and slowly placed on eyeliner, lipstick and finally blush. Looking around the back of the closet the Boston found a curly blonde wig. He just needed on last thing to complete his look, a pillow.

It had been a long night for the Sniper, socializing was never his strong point. He was talking to a woman. She had straight red hair, pale skin and wore a blue dress that left nothing to the imagination. All was going well until he heard a woman screech his name. The assassin turned around immediately to see a blonde headed woman storming across the room towards him. The focus Mundy had on her face went straight to her stomach. She was pregnant, in her last trimester.

Panic filled Mundy’s mind. Oh fuck, oh shit, fuck, fuck, FUCK. His mind started to race, trying to remember any of the women he had been with nine months ago. There was one. But he had worn protection. Did it break?? He wasn’t ready to be a father. He still had his job. His parents were going to kill him, a kid out of wedlock.

It was a slap to the face that brought Mundy out of his train of thought. The woman was closer now; he looked at her facial features. No, this wasn’t the woman he sleep with. Who the hell was this person. That’s when it hit him, it’s no lady.
“Scout what the hell are you doing??”
Mundy got no reply instead he got a wink.
“You think you can just walk out on me!!”
Sniper pitched his nose, the kid was making a distraction so the other could get out. Of course Scout would pick him to help. He was never much of an actor but tonight he had to play along. He made a mental note to kill the kid later.
“So your gonna say nothing to me?? What about this baby??”
Taking a deep breath Mundy got into character.
“That ain’t even mine!!”
Scout acted shocked, tears rolling down his face. Shit the kid was an good actor.
“How can you say that!? I was nothing but faithful to you!!”
The argument had created a large crowd; the entire party was focused on them. Both men had hoped that there team had escaped. Now they had to get out themselves. Only one idea came to Scouts mind.
“Look I don’t care that it’s mine! I ain’t giving up on my life to raise some kid.”
“Don’t you Rick me!!”
Scout’s voice had gone soft, like he was in pain. For a split second the Sniper felt that something was wrong. The look on Scouts face changed on from angry to pain. Oh hell, he isn’t actually going to do. Mundy thought. He isn’t actually going to fake -
“My water broke”
He had. The Aussie was going to murder the kid when they left.
Once again the Sniper pitched his nose.
“Come on, I’ll a least drive ya to the hospital”
Wrapping an arm around the Scout both walked out of the house towards the team.
When the team saw both men, they burst out in to laughter. Medic in between gasp had said.
“Congratulations on becoming a father Sniper. ”
“Ha ha laugh it up you wankers”
Even Scout who was still in the costume laughed.
“Oh man Snipes, you should have seen your face”
“Scout, don’t you ever use me in one of your distractions ever again.”

I’m thinking you meant battlefield scenarios, but I loved these ideas to much. Sorry mate.

Wedding Bells

Let me start off this plea for help with that I don’t deserve it. What’s going to happen to me soon I absolutely asked for, but god, someone please save me.

I’m a perv. I hack into girl’s computers and watch them in their houses from their webcams, or even better, their rooms. Catch them doing yoga, undressing, it’s truly my lucky day when I can catch them masturbating. Once I even caught this lesbian couple, but they didn’t do anything fun- just tickled each other and planned their honeymoon. So. Boring.

It’s a victimless crime. I get my rocks off or enjoy your conversations, and the people never even know I was there.

But I peaked into the wrong cam.

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Play it again, Jack I: A love letter to the mfmm fic writers

“Haven’t you read that story already, Miss Fisher?” “Once is nothing, Jack… and this one makes you come off especially well.”

A month ago, I asked you for recommendations of Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries fanfic – more specifically stories that you reread, choosing to come back to them again and again, and also saying something of why you come back. I have gotten many wonderful answers, and I will give them back to you in posts over the coming weeks, where I mix the recommendations together. 

Also, please know that you can still send me recommendations. I will keep my inbox open for another couple of weeks – I know there are many of you that have been meaning to send stuff but haven’t gotten to it yet! Being allowed to hear what people love so much that they reread it is such a wonderful gift, I hope you’ll indulge us! (for how to write me, see the original post.)

But – there was one answer that was so eloquent and loving that I felt I couldn’t cut it up for the mix. Therefore, I will start this short series by posting that in its entirety. This is what @quiltingmom sent me, and I answered her that it’s like a love letter to the fanfic writers of this fandom, which she agreed it rather is. 

So, now I’ve given you my initial comment and reminder – the rest of this post is @quiltingmom‘s answer to my question. 

Look at this, Dot. It’s a love letter!

Hi whopooh,

When you issued this request my first thought was oh my goodness, that’s practically all of them, but then I started to think about the ones that I have read over and over again. Truly, there are just too many to list. One of my favorite things to do is to go into an author’s portfolio and reread all of their works again. We have so many – so many, truly gifted and talented writers in this fandom that it is an embarrassment of riches – and makes it so hard to cite everyone. I’ve decided to limit myself to a few which believe me has been incredibly difficult. The fan fiction milieu of MFMM offers so much variety in storylines, character development, style of writing, and AUs that there is a story for everyone. While I love them all, I think my favorites are the ones that incorporate a beautiful or interesting setting, an intriguing casefic, witty and clever banter, gorgeous wardrobe (I know, I can’t help it) and a romance between Jack and Phryne. So trying to follow my own criteria, here’s my list:

When I first discovered fanfic I don’t think I really understood what I stumbled into. Reading “Creatures of Stillness” by @gaslightgallows was life changing for me. I had never read anything like it before and I was hooked and so began my hopeless journey down the rabbit hole of fanfic. This story has Jack showing up in London after a harrowing trip on board a ship to get to Phryne. He shows up disheveled and unshaven and the reunion with her is glorious. Then there’s that shaving scene…

“That Moment is Now” [only available for registred users of ao3] by @phrynesboudoir/Sassasam. Well anything by Sassasam really, but this is my favorite of hers. It has got everything. Everything. I can’t even count how many times I’ve reread it. Jack and Phryne embark on a two week trip to the Blue Mountains in Sydney because even though she and Jack had been courting she has decided that the moment is now for their romantic coupling. The setting is positively gorgeous, those ice caves, wow, the murder mystery terrific, the banter between the two of them is perfect, clever, funny, witty, sweet – sigh, the romance and steamy passion is off the charts, oh and yes, her wardrobe is stunning. I think I’m going to go read it again now.

Like the Deserts Miss the Rain” by @flashofthefuse. I love everything she writes, that’s why I’m the president of her fan club. She is just so gifted in her storytelling. She’s one of my go-tos, her portfolio is amazing and prolific. I could lose myself for a day or week or two in it (not that I’d fess up to it). In this story, Phryne is in London but as they are romancing each other through letters they decide to meet halfway in Columbo and a romantic and thrilling adventure ensues. Phyrne buys a plane and she and Jack travel back to Melbourne via several stops along the way. In Singapore they are pulled into defending a party guest against the charge of murder. This story has it all. I really think this should be made into a movie. Again it’s another one that I have read countless times.

A Man in Need” by @jeneenp/Collingwoodgirl. As I told her, I was glad I arrived late to the party because I got to enjoy this story in one sitting. If I had to wait the entire year for her updates I would have pulled my hair out of my head. But I’d have gladly worn a wig for this story. It’s delicious because it has all of our favorite co-conspirators working together to unite an estranged inspector and lady detective. The reunion, ensuing murder and investigation, and romance are stellar. That train scene though – in the window…

Fear Not the Bugle” by @firesign23. I can’t even begin to comment properly on the depth, variety, richness of her portfolio of stories. She kinda leaves me speechless – well except her angsty ones, I can’t remain speechless about those, lol. “Fear Not the Bugle” explores Phryne and Jack in an established relationship but when a brutal murder takes place orphaning a traumatized 2 year old named Anthony, their relationship goes into an entirely different direction. It’s such a captivating look at the character development of Jack and Phryne given these circumstances. 

@omgimsarahtoo, @omgimsarahtoo, sigh. Yet again another author who it is so hard to pick just one of her works that I’ve read over and over again. She writes steamy passion with such poetic beauty that I’m in awe of her. But sticking with my it’s got it all theme, “Coded Expressions” is another one of my absolute favorites. Jack is called away into the Australian outback by one of his war buddies in a mystery surrounding another one of their war buddies just as he and Phryne are about to take their relationship to the next level. She decides she’s missing him too much and goes after him. The story, the original characters, the art, and the reunion are to die for. 

Taking a departure from the it’s got it all theme, another one of my favorites is actually a two-fer by RakishAngle/@afterdinnerminx. “Truth or Dare” followed by “Messengers and Forfeits” starts with a still chaste Phrack and Phryne getting Jack to agree to a game of truth or dare. It is sexy times indeed and a great read.

And as this is getting ridiculously long my last three are ones I absolutely adore because they are so fun to read. Light hearted and full of moments that just make you smile or outright laugh, they are the ones I go to when I need to giggle. The first is “Lost in Vegas” which is @ollyjayonline and @221aubrina’s hilarious story of a broken Phrack and the cast of characters, based on real life characters, that they meet along the way to their reconciliation. It is a hoot. The next is “Breakfast with Jack and Jane” by @davidandbillie. I love fics with Jane in them and this one is terrific. Phryne is away on a case and this story follows breakfast each morning between Jack and Jane and her attempts to get him to drive her to school. It’s funny, sweet, and just so adorable. My last reread recommendation is “Wardlow Whoopie” by @olderbynow. Every time I read this I start giggling uncontrollably. I love her work but this tongue and cheek fic is hysterical. She has another WIP that I absolutely adore but as I don’t want to pressure her – I’ll just do it passive aggressively through here – I’ll wait patiently for her to update it. 

There are so many, too many more works of a huge variety of authors that I haven’t named in this post, but I’ll have to stop to not make this too long. I cannot begin to express how many countless hours of joy I’ve had reading the stories of this amazing group of people dedicated to blessing us with their talent and creativity. I am eternally grateful for finding this fandom and falling into the rabbit hole of MFMM.

Thank you so much for this letter, @quiltingmom!

Fighting Games

Posted this on AO3 over a week ago, thought I’d share it here.

In which Marinette makes a shocking discovery and Adrien has great legs.

“Why did I let you talk me into dressing like this, Alya?”

“Because I told you Adrien was coming dressed as a Sailor Moon character and I knew you wouldn’t want to miss that.”

“We could have at least gotten a shorter wig. I’m terrified I’ll trip over these pigtails. Combine that with the fact that I’m not used to walking in heels…”

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Random thoughts about Call the Midwife Series 6

I can’t believe that it’s only 8 weeks ago that we got to meet Sister Ursula and were aghast at her taking the TV away.  It feels like forever, and yet I also have no idea what I’m going to do with my Sunday nights until Christmas. (Who am I kidding? - writing here I come!)

Anyhoo - here are some random thoughts about our girls overall in the series.  It’s quite long so I’ll put in a break

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The Matchmakers - Part 8.

We took a while, but here you go! This is another part of a series I’m working with @mariamagica (go check her out if you haven’t, she’s amazing). 

This was actually written by her, but we decided that I should be the one posting it, so that things wouldn’t get too weird. 

More under the cut because it is quite long lol. 


Jumin Han: A photoshoot?

MC: Yes!

MC: We think it would be perfect to promote the RFA!

Jumin Han: Isn’t Zen more appropriate for this kind of thing?

MC: Oh, he will be there too!

ZEN: I will?

MC: Up and coming musical and executive director of C&R together on a flyer

MC: The two most influential members of the RFA!

MC: It’s bound to get people interested

ZEN: I’m blushing (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

ZEN: I don’t think I’m that popular yet, but okay

Jumin Han: I suppose if my agenda allows it.

Jaehee Kang: I’ve already scheduled it in for tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Han.

Jumin Han: That’s convenient.

MC: Great!

MC: I’ll be there as well to help coordinate

Jaehee Kang: See you all tomorrow.

- Jaehee Kang has logged out -

- MC has logged out -

ZEN: Wouldn’t it make more sense to get the entire RFA on the photo?

Jumin Han: Hmmm.


Practice took longer than expected. By the time he walked into the lounge room of RFA’s Headquarters, everyone was already there - MC, Jaehee, Jumin and a small camera crew busy setting up lighting and screens. The crew didn’t give Zen a chance to greet everyone, grabbing him and bringing him over to the ornate sofa, instructing him to sit down next to the executive. While Jumin wore his usual suit, handsome as always, he couldn’t even deny, he was only wearing his motorcycle outfit - he had hoped to change to something classier beforehand.

“You look fine, don’t worry.” Jumin whispered, startling him a little. Was he that obvious to read?

Bashfully, Zen scratched the back of his neck. “Thanks.” This earned him a small smile, making him do the same.

MC gave him a thumbs up while one woman moved them closer together and another made practice shots. Jumin’s leg brushed against his and he clutched the pillow next to him, trying to keep down a blush.

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Daddy saves the day


When seeing is believing for the Styles kids

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Dreams Really Do Come True

(This a redo of my old one that I’m really proud of and I want to give it some love)

Another Princess of Hearts fanfic! Based off the wonderful post done by my dear friend @asa-de-ouro.

It was supposed to be another Saturday morning. I mean, it started normally. I woke up, brushed my teeth, checked my notifications on phone, went to my kitchen to make some tea. No one else besides my sister is up, just another day. That’s when it changed. As I went to the study my eyes focused on a oddly placed red button by the front door. There was something written by the button “Those whom you ship yourself with become real and are happy to see you This includes those whom you shipped yourself with in the past”. Reading the note, my heart swelled at the thought, the idea of those who I adore with all of the heart being here in the world of reality, being with me and loving me unconditionally. My hand was hovering over the button, but my mind was racing. Maybe this is just some prank bro put out for. “But if that’s true, how does he know that I have fictional crushes? This could only be a sick joke.” My thoughts fought with each-other for a while until I finally decided. “If this is really a joke, let’s put to the test” I say to myself as I press the button.

Nothing happen….figures. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes, it was my own wishful thinking. Disappointed with myself, I’m about to sit down at the seats in the kitchen when the doorbell ring. “It’s probably the mailman or something”, raising to get it, the teapot warming up the water is the background noise. I peek through the glass on the door connecting the porch to the outside, there’s what I can assume a head of grey hair and a brilliant pair of teal eyes. “No, that can’t be….” my body wanting to open the door while my brain tried to process the events. I opened the door and standing only a few steps away is Philip. His eyes met mine and he gave me a smile seeing only love and accomplishment, like I’m an oasis made by the gods. He kneels before me, placing a closed hand against his heart, I’m taken back and from his mouth “It’s been too long my princess” comes out.

 “Is this really happening?” is all I’m thinking as he rises. We stand there for some time until he coughs, “So can I come it?” he speaks, his smile not leaving. Snapping at the trace, blushing at the fact that I standing there like a idiot “O-Of course.” comes out. I lead him to the living room where he sits in on the sofa. There’s an awkward silence on my part when the teapot signals it’s ready, “Uh…D-Do you want something to eat, or drink, or something?” I say nervous as all hell. “Not really.” he replies, his eyes not leaving mine for a second “W-Well, If you don’t mind I-I’m going to make some tea”. Speed-walking to the kitchen my mind is racing for answers “This has to be a joke. Yeah, that’s right. He’s just a professional cosplayer that paid to do this. He would never actually fall in love. I’m not pretty, or smart or anything worth loving. I’m annoying and stupid and AGH!As I’m pouring the tea and loathing myself for falling for the prank that my brother is probably laughing his ass over, I noticed that Philip is staring at something on the wall. Following his line of sight my eyes are now noticing that there’s a clock that was never there before. It’s counting down the time, 133:55, that’s weird. He sees that I’m focused on the clock when he chuckles, again snapping me out of my foolishness. “Don’t worry about the clock, I’m just waiting for the rest of the gang to show up” he turns to look me still in that adoring stare. “Wait! There’s more comin-” I can’t get the rest of the words out when the doorbell rings agains. “This is a dream” I say repeatedly to myself as I head to the door, opening it, my eyes laid more figures that I know more then anything. Kiyomasa Senji (Deadman Wonderland), Vash (Trigun), S-Sha (Hyperdimension Neptunia), Theodore (Persona 3) and tower above them was Blue Diamond (Steven Universe).

 My brain is almost ready to explode when Philip comes up behind me, “Hey, guys! Nice to meet you finally!”. Vash two-finger salutes him, Blue Diamond waves while the others nod. They see me and they all smile with the same simile of love. “Well, don’t just stand there! Come on it, there’s tea if anyone wants some.” He said heading inside. They follow, passing by me, Diamond transforming herself into a smaller but still tall enough height. “It’s good to finally meet you” Senji spoke while passing me patting my head. The once fictional characters entering my house while I stand still trying to make out if this is real or fantasy. “I have to be dreaming, there’s literally no way this is actually happening…” going back inside I see that everyone has settled in and are now chatting. Gaining some confidence I clear my throat “Can anyone please explain to me what’s going on here?” everyone heads turn to face me “Am I just the willing participant in a elaborate joke?”. The questions hang in the air for a bit, “You can admit it, I know you’re doing this just to get a laugh…I don’t mind. You’re all just cosplaying those characters to get a reaction out of me about how stupid I am, aren’t you?” I added.“What are you talking about? We’re here cause you called us, isn’t that right?” Satan spoke up. “But, that’s impossible…you guys aren’t real.” I tried to explain as S-Sha walked up to me taking the hold on my hand. “We’re here to be with you, it’s that simple.” her voice was true and sounded genuine. She guided my hand to her sliver hair allowing me to feel. It’s was so soft, and I couldn’t feel and wig cap underneath. Again the doorbell rang.

“I’ll go get it.” Senji said as he rose from the seat. S-Sha sat me down and Blue Diamond got me my tea that I ignored. I took notice on the strange clock again it now reading 100:09. The door swung open and another bunch of the people I love walked into the living room. This time a group of ten. Their faces all too familiar to me as everyone greeted each other. The group would then come over to me, with hellos and how much they missed me like I’m a loved one they haven’t seen in a long time. My heart is beating so fast and I felt like I was going to pass out from all the attention. “Maybe this isn’t a dream after all.” I ponder the thought as I get up to make the new guests more comfortable. Making some tea and coffee, I offer the refreshments to them. Some take the offer while some recline. There’s chatter with laughter as stories are being told along with some lighthearted arguing, I stand against the wall enjoying the scene. Another ring from the door, rushing to get it, the clock changes to read 100:00. The next group of ten enters as I’m now greeted with hugs, head pats, even kisses on the hand and/or cheek. Some of them even brought gifts of flowers and even a small crown to me. The living room and kitchen are almost full so I direct the party to the garden outback the conversations continued outside. Soon enough, my parents and my older brother walk downstairs to witness the party at hand. All three of them are stumped speechless at the size of the group. “Oh! Morning you guys! I’ll explain everything later!” My simile is now slightly hurting but I couldn’t care less. This is a dream come true and I don’t want to wake up. My twin sister has now joined the party, having almost the amount of excitement as me. My parents don’t want to question the fact that we’re having the time of lives so my dad started to breakfest while my mom talks to guests. I pulled my brother to the side “Okay, so was this your plan for a joke or something?” I asked in all seriousness. “No! I have literally have no idea what’s going on!’ he said in total honestness.  My eyes was against fall in the clock as another group invites themselves in. The time reads 80:15, the dots connect in my head. It’s counting down every single character I’ve had a crush on. I giggle at my own forgetfulness as i rejoins the party.

Everything is going smoothly as more of the people I love come through the door. Everyone is having a grand time. My parents are getting along with the guest, my sister looks like she’s going pass out from seeing fictional characters in real life while my brother is confused as fuck but is going along with her. The talking is pleasant and the food is almost done. I’ve talked to the loves of my life. Seeing them so happy and even loosen up a bit fills my heart with joy. I smile at the crowd, not wanting this moment to end. There’s a knock at the door “Coming!” I shout as my feet rush to the door. On my way to the door I see that wonderful clock counting down. 7, 6, 5… my steps matched the timing as my hand grip the knob 4, 3, 2… I open to the door and stare at Roronoa Zoro, my very first fictional crush. “It’s been forever, Melanie” are the only words he gets out as I leap into his arms. Hugging him with every fiber in my body I feel tears beginning to fell. He hugs back as the group see that the final guest is here at last. “This really isn’t a dream, is it?” I asked looking up at his face, our eyes locking. “Not at all” a warm grin spread across his lips. It’s just like the stories, dreams really do come true.

The Lost Princess {Biadore} Chapter 4 - C*NT

A/N: So I’m back back back at writing super long chapters! This is a whopping 6k+ chapter filled with all sorts of goodies. Today there will be some talk about different sexualities (bisexual, pansexual etc.), which as a pansexual myself, I hope I classified it correctly. We also have a new character coming into the mix ;) Bianca/Roy is bisexual in this AU, Courtney is pansexual, and Adore herself is starting to realize she is not cis. TW: Alcohol consumption, a heavy make out scene and vomit near the end (i don’t go into too much detail but just in case)

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Look At It From Our Point of View

Okay. Let’s break this shit down since people want to act brand new. And in no way am I trying to offend anyone and if I do I’m sorry in advance. I still believe South Korea has a very beautiful, rich, industrious culture with respectable people trying to live life like all of us. And like many other cultures, it is not perfect. It has its history, political unrest, disparity with classes, impossible beauty standards, education system that needs reform (there are many other issues plaguing the country and i won’t pretend to know all of them) etc. like many other civilizations across the world. But obviously the country has its charms and has made economic and technological advancements that the world can only marvel at.

THAT BEING SAID…again, like everywhere else in the world, it is not perfect. We are now talking about being anti-asian and being anti-black. Like many places in the world, be it the homogenous society, xenophobia, the effect of white supremacy or this perceived global notion that black/african=barbaric, uneducated, dirty, underdeveloped, unworthy, unattractive, inhuman etc. SEEMS to be very prevalent in the society. Of course not every Korean thinks the same…of course media has a power to shape people’s minds, and of course KPOP does not accurately represent the entire country…but we are talking about KPOP, and i am a black fan of some KPOP.

We know not every idol thinks the same, but aren’t our thoughts coming from somewhere? Isn’t there a history that all of this is based on? Ask yourself this…why are there blogs dedicated to pointing out problematic aspects of kpop? why does there even need to be a black kpop fans blog? have you ever seen anywhere ‘white kpop fans’? why are there so many blogs dedicated to whitewashing the way these idols already look? have you seen the comments fans have left ex-SNSD member Jessica calling her black, asking she has eaten coal, because she is ‘tan’? and people say ‘well that’s not directed to black people, it’s directed to Asian people. It’s a cultural thing’, okay but it’s still not okay. Even as a black person I can say colorism and the treatment darker skinned people within my community is not okay despite historical context, and if someone from another race told me that about the black race I would agree, I wouldn’t say they’re disrespecting my entire culture’s history.

Anyway, back to the subject, how many times has an idol said or done some shit that was anti-black/racist/problematic? How many times has the same idol gone on and on about how much they love hip hop and r&b, which they ironically call ‘black music’? How many of those idols have gone on a variety show wearing black face with overdrawn red lips? When asked what their talent is, how many have said ‘talking like a black person’? You say we shouldn’t just say oppa for the fun of it, so why should they be allowed to make fun of how we talk and look for a few laughs as if that’s a talent?

Let’s look at it this way. Let’s say Beyonce began her career singing traditional Korean music. Then she began it trying to emulate the style of one of the greatest Korean musicians. Then she carries on her career continuing to utilize Korean instruments and sounds in her music. She’s also using traditional Korean clothing to capitalize off of as a ‘look’ and ‘persona’ for her music videos, because she does think it’s beautiful. Maybe she’ll throw in a few Korean phrases in her music as well. Then one day she’s on some tv show, and shows up painting her skin to exaggeratedly ‘imitate’ the appearance of a korean. They ask her what her talent is and she starts talking Korean not respectfully but as a caricature to garner a few laughs. Then maybe in a world where straight black hair is not acceptable she’s wearing a straight black wig which makes the audience laugh like crazy. Then IRONICALLY when it’s time for her REAL performance, she’s performing Korean music using their sounds, signature dances, and styles. And let’s say any time you do these dances, the world calls you ghetto, stupid, uneducated, but when Beyonce does it, it’s so cool and hip!

If Beyonce did that, would that make any sense to you?! If you were a fan of beyonce then saw her on the tv show mocking your language, the way you naturally look, while singing music your people have created historically as a form of expression their oppression and general self-expression, how would that make you feel? Would you just say well the music isn’t made for us so I don’t care? If you think of it like this, can’t you see where we’re coming from? But we’re told ‘oh stay bitter. just ignore it’ etc…when we can trace an kpop song sampling a 90s RnB song and say well this is not really original why are they always sampling only to be told ‘well its not their fault they’re not the ones who created it their writers and choreographers are black so you can’t get mad at them’ and when we say ‘okay so then originality in KPOP is not common (notice we said KPOP we didn’t say all Koreans are not original because we know KPOP is not representative of the musical capability of an entire country)’, now we’re suddenly being anti-asian? And another submission already stated that there are probably many korean musicians/artists that are original that will never be heard of because they are not part of the kpop machine. there are probably many that do respect ‘black music’ along with the black people that make it but that’s not what we see.

If there was a general respect for black people in asia while many capitalize off of our culture, i don’t think we’d have a problem. But you got tv stations still daring to air blackface, you got racist commercials, without giving fucks as to whether a black audience member will see it…but will turn around and invite their stars who sing what they call ‘black music’ to those shows…it’s just a clusterfuck and if you can’t see it then that’s your problem. we can continue to be ‘bitter’ but just accept WE’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE. as long as the shit continues to be problematic we will continue to show up and as long as our culture continues to be used, we will continue to critique. deal with it the way we have to deal with it.

As ‘borrowed’ as KPOP is, obviously there is still something about it that holds people’s attention hence the reason why for all its problematic ways it still has some ‘woke’ black fans. We’re just trying to make the fans who say problematic things and are so bothered by us and our opinions understand why we feel the way we do and why we have a right to.  That’s it. And if we do happen to say things anti-asian/fetishist etc, let us know with good examples so that we can also learn too. The globalization of kpop can be a cultural learning tool among fans if we could just communicate openly and respectfully but also facing the reality and facts.

Theft and Appropriation all in one Weekend

This starts out with my apartment room mates, Eli and Zoey. Neither are their real names. Eli is the good room mate, Zoey is the bad one.

All three of us are into anime and manga, but I prefer video games.

And all three of us went to AnimeNEXT last weekend in Atlantic City. Eli and I roomed with her boyfriend and two of my best friends. Zoey got a room with her friends.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi :) Your fic rec masterpost is a gift from God so thank you for making it and for keeping it updated <3 Could you please recommend some fics with good sexting?

OMG YES I CAAAAAAAANNNN !! (sorry, I love sexting)

- why don’t we go there?  : Louis sends a text message to a wrong number by accident. They keep texting each other from there. (19k, aka “you know, the fic with the audio file OMG THIS IS SO HOT”)

- Who Tells Your Story : “Baby girl, you’re always beautiful, you know that, but I am so excited to see how much brighter your smile is with a wig that is made especially for you,” Louis says, completely heartfelt.  Fizzy is incredibly smart and he knows that she tries to not let her lack of hair bother her, but you can’t help but hear what others say.  All the years building up on her of having to hear remarks about how unfortunate that such an “otherwise pretty girl” has to be left bald, in addition to hitting the height of puberty couldn’t have made things easy for her.   This wig means so much more than just a way for her to feel pretty.  It is the stepping stone for her confidence as well.Or the one where Louis never thought he’d get to tell his sister’s story, Harry never thought he’d find the right person to tell the story he wants told, and Fizzy has a way of making it all come together. (33k)

- Talk Dirty When You Talk To Me  : After a night out with Stan, Louis gets a dirty text message from a unknown number. Thinking its his best friend he replies. It turns out to be a boy named Harry. An experience Louis’ never had before happens after a heated discussion with said boy. (8k)

- Behind The Lights : Inspired by Maid in Manhattan, but not the same at all. (61k)

- send me a dirty picture, babe. x  : Louis knows exactly what he should do. Apologise politely to the stranger- so as not to provoke him- delete the text, and forget about the matter. So why does he find himself texting back, ‘Nice dick.’?  (4k)

- Jump The Gun : He groans in frustration, slamming his suitcase shut and maybe slamming his head against it a bit, because Harry Styles is trying to kill him, and it’s all because he has a stupid fucking fetish for girls’ underwear. (or, Louis likes to wear lingerie. Harry likes that Louis likes to wear lingerie.) (6k)

UPDATE (last update on April 6th 2017)

- What’s Stopping You?  : Or, the one where Harry wants to get over his crush on Louis, so he makes a Grindr account to find someone new. Of course, Louis messages him, not realizing H’s real identity. It only takes a few days for them to figure it out.  (14k)

- When We Were Younger  : About a week after Harry started visiting this particular chat room, he was watching some kid argue with the whole room about football, personally disinterested as he tipped a bag of crisps into his mouth. He happily chomped on the crumbs, taking a swig from a glass of Ribena to wash them down, glancing at the screen and very nearly spat the squash back out again. His heart was pounding wildly. The display icon of the argumentative newcomer had caught his eye, and not in a good way. He gulped as he clicked the picture, and when it popped up in full resolution, his heart nearly fell right out of his arse. - Sixteen year old Harry Styles’ world turns upside down when he logs on to gay teen chat to discover somebody has stolen his photos and used them as their own.  (76k)

- Nothin’ I Would Rather Do  : “Louis,” Anne said sternly.  “You know I have no problem with you working overtime if you need to, but I can’t have you running yourself ragged.  At this rate you won’t have the energy or stamina to make it to the party yourself!”“I’ll be fine, Anne.  I swear.”Her bright eyes sparkled as her smile turned a bit more coy and Louis knew immediately what was coming next.“I hope so, because you know, my son will be in town and coming to the party.”  Louis froze.  In all the months of her talking about her son and saying they should meet, she never once mentioned that he would be coming to the Christmas party.  Well, fuck.or…the one where Anne is determined to set Louis up with her son, but he’s perfectly happy with the random sexting “relationship” he has running with the random he met at a bar several months back. (9k)

Christmas Gift Fic #9

(technically still Christmas where I am!)

Okay, here’s another. I might get a couple more out this weekend, but I hate to promise that. 

@whyarealltheurlsarlreadytaken asked for: can you do a ‘run verse au where darcy and clint have a romantic relationship. 

I hope this is kind of what you wanted. It got away from me a little bit. … enjoy!


Darcy couldn’t sleep.

Well, no, that wasn’t right. She did sleep, and she slept hard, for about four hours. And now she was wide awake staring into the dark.

SHIELD was gone. Weird. And freaky. It hit her every now and again, just out of nowhere. Wham.

Except, it wasn’t entirely gone. It was just underground now. Like she was, here in her pitch-black room, in a bunker complex, with all that was left. That was the freaky part. How fragile it all felt. Not just the agency, but the world. Everything felt egg shell-thin.

Licking her dry lips, she reached out to turn on the lamp. It was old, part of the ancient equipment and furniture leftover from the base’s early days, and it cast a sickly yellow light over the small, private quarters she’d claimed while she was lending a hand at the Playground. She would so make a shopping run at some point, when she could get away for a day. There was just so much cleanup to do, to get started on, to dig out, to glue back together. And so few hands to help.

Phil was out there now, somewhere in that shaky world, looking for his agents, trying to round up who he could. They were starting to trickle back in ones and twos, here and there. Sometimes he’d even find a whole pack of them, gone to ground in some forgotten bunker or safehouse, holding tight together while the foundations fell out from under them.

Rubbing a hand across her eyes, Darcy swung her legs out of bed and let out a long breath. The clock — a regular, old-fashioned, tick-tock, with hands and everything, clock — read a quarter after 3. Ugh.

Her thoughts ticked along with the little second hand — too much to do, too much to do, too much to do. As soon as she drifted from that hard sleep, into something lighter, her mind filled up with all those too many things, and now she was wide, damned awake. Bleh. She loved her father, but sometimes it sucked to be his daughter. He’d probably never slept a whole night through in his entire life for just that reason; the tick-tock brain that never stopped.

She laughed at herself and stood . That was such a creakily retro analogy for Tony, he’d be horrified by it. So, of course, she made a mental note to share it with him at the earliest possible opportunity.

Standing, she took a moment to stretch, trying to do something positive, good for her, self care, that sort of thing. Plus, she had such a crink in her neck from being wedged under floor plates and behind cramped server racks trying to fix everything Hydra broke and trying to upgrade everything else. The stretching helped a little, and woke her body up a little more, so at least she had some of the energy her brain was demanding. And then she went out into the dim corridors, only every third bulb lit for night-time lighting and power conservation. 70-year old diesel generators and stealth power grid taps could only take them so far.  

Darcy had them on an arc reactor now, though, and Tony had been surprisingly peaceable about that suggestion — well, they argued a little, but that was them. It helped that Phil immediately promised its existence was need to know, and only he and May would know anything about it. Well, and Darcy, but she was the one who installed it and who would maintain it. When the device came in disguised as a Newegg box, Phil gave her a tired smile and tried to joke she was the electrical systems chief now. Then he begged her not to blow up what was left of SHIELD. ‘Cause he was a funny guy like that.

The corridors were empty as she wandered down to the hanger. The Bus needed a little more work, though all critical systems were up and humming. Now, while it was quiet, she’d take care of her pretty flying baby.

There was an eerie stillness as she walked, her eye picking out the old SSR eagle painted on a wall, and her steps sounding particularly echoy. With the twisting halls, endless side rooms, and all, it was like a pretty sweet first person shooter where she got sucked back in time to fight an alien invasion in the fifties or something.

She wasn’t sure how far the base extended, parts of it were still closed off, again, to conserve energy. And because there were only a couple dozen people knocking around the place. It was better to cluster everybody closer, it made everything feel less lonely and depressing. Except, it still felt lonely and depressing. Though, maybe that was because it was 3am, the most depressing hour of the night.

When she got to the Bus, she went up to the lounge first and started the coffee maker, then she sat at the briefing table and called up the systems. Avionics were good, flight good, servers good, nav good, some of the lab systems were still a little wonky and something was slowing transfers to the main base servers. That might be software, but it could be hardware, too. Skye was software, but so many of the systems were slagged, hardware was a real possibility still, too. She’d go over it again.

“So, according to Natasha, you’re not my trainee anymore.”

Darcy jerked and nearly fell out of her chair. Putting a hand to her chest, feeling the wild hammering of her heart, she turned a heated glare on the man who was leaning against the opening to the lounge.

“Damn it, Barton. What the actual hell?”


“Wow, no you aren’t.”

He pouted and stepped into the room, walking over to the bar and the coffee maker. “I am. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, still trying to settle the surge of adrenaline.

“You’re cranky.”

Darcy let out a whoosh of breath and ran a hand through her hair. “It’s 3:30 in the morning, I wasn’t expecting anybody to be around; this place is like a post-apocalyptic horror movie at night. Forgive me for being wigged at you popping out of nowhere.”

He poured them both a coffee and brought her a mug. “Okay, for real, sorry. I got in a couple hours ago, you were already asleep. May found me a bunk, but I couldn’t sleep either. I’m still on Prague time. Sucks. What’s your excuse?”

She wrapped her hands around the warming mug. “Stark brain? I was asleep, but then, you know that bit where you kind of wake up to like roll over or something? My brain kicked in with all the shit I’ve got to do, and I couldn’t stop thinking and here I am.”

He nodded soberly and sipped at his coffee. “Sucks,” he said again.

“Yeah. Are you sticking?”

“With SHIELD?”

“Yeah. Or you gonna take my dad up on the full-time Avengers gig?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Honestly. That’s why I’m here, I told Phil I’d talk to him first. I owe it to him.”


“I guess you’re all in,” he said, voice mild and free of judgement one way or the other.

“I guess I am,” she admitted.

“Is that what you want?”

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Is that true, though?”

She cocked her head and thought about it. “Yeah. I really think it is.”

“Okay. Cool.” He tapped his long archer’s fingers on the mug. “This spooked Nat pretty good. I think she’s out. Or, maybe like a contract player. If Phil needed something, she’d help, but, you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“You’ve got options, you know? Like, you could do anything, go anywhere, work for anybody. Some of these people, SHIELD was all they had, but you’ve got … well, everything.”

“Because I’m the spoiled rich kid, right?” She bristled a little and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Don’t get like that. It’s true and you know it.” He swept an arm out over the table in a broad arc. “The world is your oyster. You could go get five doctorates like your dad, go start up a company in … whatever it is you’d want to do. What would you want to do?”

“I don’t know.”


“I never knew, Barton,” she said quietly. It was true, it was her thing, it had to be all over her evals. Maybe he never really believed it, or never understood just how completely absolutely true that was. She never knew what she wanted. Never. And it wasn’t something she ever felt really comfortable with. Everybody around her was so focused and she was … aimlessly drifting.

“I had vague ideas, some kid fantasies, you know, but never anything I was super into,” she said, forcing the words out. “I picked political science because I’ve always been interested in people, in how the world works, and, of course, with a father who’s a defense contractor, government was something I was tangentially familiar with. But, even that wasn’t really a passion. I never had one. I always envied my friends who did, you know? Who knew exactly what they wanted. Like Rico and his computers, and Marley and design. But me? I never knew. And,” she smirked over at him, “I thought you knew that.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Long enough that she looked away, staring down into her mug. “I told you I never saw you. You are a mystery to me. You’ve been my trainee for over a year, and I don’t know hardly anything about you.”

“You know plenty.”

“What if I wanted to know more?”

“I don’t know what that means. Like, what? My favorite color?”

“Red,” he said immediately. “That one I know.”

She laughed and looked up at him. He smiled back.

“Purple,” she said, jerking her thumb at him.

Clint raised his chin and sniffed. “It’s the color of royalty, you know.”

“Sure,” she said with a little smile. “So, what do you want to know?”

“What would you do? If you could do anything at all … which, you know, you actually can. What would you do?”


“Come on, Darce,” he whined.

She shook her head and jabbed a finger down on the table. “This. For real. This is what I want.”

He chewed on that for a second and then countered with, “You were in SHIELD to help your dad, I know that.”

“Yeah, and then SHIELD fell down. I know how big this is, how hard this will be, but …” she leaned towards him, intent and focused. “When we were in those tunnels and you were being an asshole—”

“Hey,” he protested and frowned.

“You were,” she insisted.

“I … was,” he admitted contritely. “Yeah, sorry.”

She waved it off and forgave him with a smile. “Anyway, when I saw those people on the platform. I knew. For the first time in my life, Clint, I knew what I wanted. I knew what I could do. Me. I could help those people. I could help the world. Phil told me I could, and you and Nat, and my dad, and Thor, and everybody. But, that moment is when I knew it for myself. I could do it, I had the resources, the training, the knowledge, the contacts, everything … I could do it. I can do it. It’s what I want. I want to rebuild SHIELD.”

Darcy waited for him to respond, but he just pursed his lips and stared at her thoughtfully. Again with the staring. And it was his 'watching her like a hawk’ (ha ha) look. Uncomfortable. Sucking in her cheeks, she looked back at the systems readouts for something to do, for anything to distract her from the sudden super intensity.  

Her relationship with Clint had always been pretty relaxed, even when they were training. He liked team sports, and beer, and cheesy movies, and 80s action shows, and they could kick it in easy conversation. She’d tease him about being a disaster, but she admired him, too. Admired his dedication, his skill, his way of looking at the world in all its simple and complex messiness — which was basically Clint in a nutshell anyway. But, this … early morning talks where, because of exhaustion, overwork, whatever else, she let herself open up in a way she never really liked to. This was new, and sort of uncomfortable, and really with the staring already. God, Barton.

“Okay,” he said at last.


“I’m in. I’ll tell Phil when he gets back.”

Darcy looked up and frowned. “Wait, what?”

“I’m in with SHIELD.”

“Oh,” she said and tried to think of what she ought to say to that, she wasn’t expecting it. In fact, she was pretty prepared for both Nat and Clint to bail. “Well, good. Yay. Glad to have you.”

“Yep,” he said, his voice bright as he nodded and grinned. “I believe you.”

“About what?”

“That you’ll rebuild SHIELD.”

“Well, I mean, Phil —”

“Yeah, you and Phil. It’s called conviction.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I think you’re nuts, but I like it. That’s my kinda crazy.”

She laughed and gave his leg a little nudge with her own. “Jerk.”

“Yep.” He propped his chin on his hand and kept watching her. “You’re not my trainee anymore. You’re like … what? Like, Phil’s number two or three?”

“Four or five? Or lower? I don’t know. May, then maybe … I don’t know. You or Hartley?”

“Oh, is she here?” he asked, looking interested and pleased. “Awesome. She’s wicked with a knife.”

Darcy grimaced. “We, uh, maybe don’t get along so well. Maybe?”

“Oh …” He thought about it for a second then nodded. “Yeah, I can see the personality clash. Give her a chance, though, she’s good people.”

“Yeah, that’s what May says.” Darcy shrugged. She could give Hartley another chance, but would Hartley give her one? Maybe she’d have to work for it. Ugh. “Her team, though … I mean, Idaho’s okay, I guess. Though, Christ, he thinks he’s a world-class chef and I swear to you, he could burn water. And Hunter’s just straight up obnoxious.”

Clint’s eyebrows rose. “Lance Hunter?”



“You know him, I guess,” she said, pressing for that story. They’d be a weird combination. Probably not something anybody’d want to witness.

“I do. Sort of. It’s a long story,” he said with a sigh. “We have an ex in common. Way awkward.”

“His hell-beast ex-wife? His words, not mine.”

Clint snorted a surprised laugh and it took him a second to stop chuckling. “That’s the one. Ha. Oh, yeah. I should buy him a beer. Awesome.”

“Come on, she can’t be that bad.”

With a challenging look, Clint straightened up and started to tug off his shirt.

“What the hell are you doing?” Darcy asked, alarmed and startled and not prepared for the Barton striptease.

“I’m going to show you the scars.”

Darcy laughed and lunged forward to catch the hem of his shirt before it could clear his chest. She tugged it back down. “Keep your shirt on, geez.”

“No, you’ll be impressed.”

“I’m plenty impressed, promise. Please, keep your shirt on.” She had a hard enough time not staring at his arms, she didn’t need him to strip for her, too. He was a damned attractive guy, and she’d always noticed that. He was also a dozen years older than her and her SO. It was just … some things were not for thinking about too long, or else that way lay heartbreak or something. But she liked his squishy face, and his dumb boy sense of humor, and his frankly magnificent arms, and his crazy intense focus when he was being all sniper dude. Ugh, no Darcy, don’t go there.

He was looking mulish and he jerked up the side of his shirt anyway, ignoring her protests and pointed to a scar low on his back. “That one.”

“She stabbed you?”

“No, but I got stabbed because of her.”

“Well … ouch?”

“Yeah, totally. That hurt.”

“Poor baby.”

“Kiss it and make it better?”

She gaped at him for a second and shook her head like she misheard. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know?” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Reflexive? Don’t make it weird, Lewis.”

“Screw you, Barton,” she said, laughing again.

“But, you know, if you wanted to, I wouldn’t stop you.”

“Who’s making this weird?”


“You.” She was still laughing, though, because, really, Barton?

“But, uh …” he moved his hand from his neck to rub at his ear. “If you wanted to, maybe, go out for coffee sometime.”

Her mouth went dry and there was a strange fuzzy buzzing in her head, because he couldn’t have just asked what she thought he asked. Right? “We’re having coffee now.”

“And it’s good, right? What is this?” He looked down at this mug before picking it up and draining the last. “Too good for an airplane and way too good for SHIELD.”

“Phil’s a coffee snob.”

“Oh, right.” He stood up and walked away to grab the pot. “More?”


He poured them both another and then sat down again, fidgeting with his mug. “I meant it, though. Like, maybe someplace with normal people. And we’d go, you know, as normal people.”

“Neither of us are normal people,” she said quietly.

“Normalish. You’re not my trainee anymore,” he said again. Then licked his lips nervously and took a big gulp of coffee. “Believe it or not, I’m usually better at this. You are damned hard to read. Also,” he held up a finger to make a point, “I am not afraid of your dad.”

“Noted.” She rubbed at her eyes and tried to sort through the last five minutes. She didn’t … no, she didn’t ever expect this. “For real?”

“Yeah, I mean … uh, if you want. I’d just …”

“What about Natasha?”

He gave her an understanding smile and shook his head. “Darce, Nat is my best friend. That’s like … I don’t know, you and Rico.”

“Oh,” she said and made a face. She loved Rico, but yeah, no, she would not date Rico. That would be too weird. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, hey, if you’re not into it, that’s okay. No harm, but …” he trailed off and was silent for a moment before he continued. “I like you. I’ve always liked you, like as a person, you know? You’re fun, you’re weird — in a good way — you’re easy to be around. I don’t know. I just, I like when we watch the A-Team and drink beer and talk about whatever the hell. I like laughing with you.”

“I like that, too,” she said quietly, really trying to take this all in. Well, if nothing else it sure as hell shorted out her brain, wiping away that endless tick of 'too much to do’.

“We could give it a try,” he suggested. “Frankly, I think we’d make a badass pair. I can really see it. You’d bring it with the high tech, I’d bring it with the sniping, then we’d go out for Coronas and tacos and be awesome. I’m liking this.”

“Coronas and tacos,” she echoed, still trying to work through the short in her brain.

“With lime. For both, of course, because fish tacos.” He leaned towards her, his eyebrows raised and something open and hopeful on his impish face. “I like being around you, not a lot of people get me, but you do, and you make it so damned easy to just be, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” she agreed, because, well, it was always easy to be with Clint. Not lazy easy, but like she didn’t have to think about who she was with him. She just was herself. Whatever and whoever that was. And he was way opening himself up here, so she should probably give him some of that back. It was only fair. “I think I could go for Coronas and tacos. I, uh, you know, every guy I’ve ever dated, it didn’t always go so well, because I was keeping secrets. Which, of course, you know.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Olympic sport?”

“I wasn’t wrong,” he grumbled, “you’re good at it. I mean, come on. I’m a spy. Hell, you even pulled one over on Nat. Crazy.”

“I guess I did.” She mused on that for a second. That was pretty good. “Anyway, you know my secrets now. That’ll be new.”

“Oh, you’re still a damned mystery, for real. I’m not just saying that.”

Her lips quirked up into a little smile. “I keep you on your toes, Barton.”

“Please do.” He reached out a hand and tapped the back of hers. “No pressure. Just, you know, tacos. See what happens.”

“My dad throws you off the building.”

“I’m still not afraid of him. And, I have a grappling hook arrow.”

Darcy laughed. “Of course you do.”

“It’s awesome.”

“It’s 93 stories.”

He thought about that and winced. “Well, uh, I’ll call Thor. Teamwork, yeah!”

And finally that reserve she’d built around herself for her whole life started to crack. Maybe not entirely done away, but a little light was getting through. She reached out and touched his face. “I like your squishy face.”

“It’s not squishy,” he said with a pout.

She poked at his cheek and laughed when he snarled. “Handsome face.”



“So … tacos?”

“It’s like four in the morning.”

“Tonight. Tacos.”

“Tacos. Tonight,” she agreed.

He grinned. “Awesome.”

Darcy gave his cheek a last pat and sat back. “You know, I think there are rules about agents dating.”

“Then I’m out,” he said easily and without hesitation. “I’ll tell Phil.”

“Come on, we could use you.”

He thought about it for a second then shrugged. “There’s like thirty agents left. What’s Phil going to do? Ground us? Though, you know, I could do the independent contractor thing, too. I can still work for SHIELD, but be out of the chain. That actually might work better. With the Avengers and all.”

“Sure, sure.”

“SHIELD’s been my world for a long time, Darce. I think I’m ready for there to be other things in my life now, you know? I’m good by that.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am. You had your revelation in those tunnels, and I had mine. And, I think that’s part of why I got so mad at you. It wasn’t the secrets, I just …”

“I was keeping them from you.”

“Yeah,” he admitted and bowed his head. “I want more. And, I let myself believe I had it, and then I realized I never really told you that, and you were keeping these secrets, and people were shooting at us, and I could have lost you right there. And … I didn’t like that. It freaked me out, too.”

She let that sink in for a minute before taking his hand. “Okay. So tacos tonight and then we see what happens.”

“Awesomeness happens.”

Giving his fingers a squeeze, she laughed. “High bar, Barton.”

“I’ll clear it,” he promised with a cocky smirk.

“Just so you know, there aren’t any more secrets. Okay?”

“Okay,” he accepted that with a nod. “But, I want to hear about those fantasies you had as a kid about what you’d do when you grew up.”

“Forklift driver.”

Clint guffawed and tugged on her hand, pulling her closer to him. “Really?”

“And astronaut.”

“That’s a gimmie,” he protested. “Every kid wants to be an astronaut.”

“And an architectural mad genius who designed secret lairs.”

“Okay, you’re not far off of that one. You could totally pull that one off.”

“I know, right? So close.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I’ve got to actually work on the one secret base I’ve got on my hands now, though, so it’s time for you to take a hike.”

He returned her kiss with one of his own. “Okay. Fine. I’m tired now.” He stood up and pointed a finger at her. “Tonight. Tacos.”

“Tacos. Tonight,” she agreed again, smiling.