okay, I’m gonna go with some of my maybe less read fics? because if you’re here you probably know about Remember This Cold and Life in Reverse and the like, so I decided to go with some of the fics I see as “lesser read.”
I always feel egotistical being like “it’s hard to pick five” but you know, I do have over 300 works archived on AO3 so maybe that makes it better? idk. anyway though
Stjarnasdóttir. The one where Jane Foster tries to rescue a Dark Elf, and mostly it’s about the problem of an entire species being casually wiped out, the dissonance between Thor’s understanding of the world and Jane’s, and Jane being a compassionate delight. I ended up really proud of it. It was going to be a lot more goofy fun time than it ended up being, but I think it’s better this way.
She waited until Thor disappeared into the sky, and then slumped and headed back inside. She felt heavy and tired. Darcy looked at her worriedly. “Where’s Hammer Boy?”
“I told him to go,” she said, and sat down on the coffee table. The Dark Elf was asleep again, or at least pretending it.
“Whoa,” Darcy said. “You’re serious about this.”
“Yeah,” Jane said. “I am.” She was a scientist. Not a superhero or a fighter. She wasn’t here to end worlds and kill aliens. That was never what she’d wanted to do.
All she’d wanted to do was see the stars.
what little girls are made of. This one is mostly Natasha being really bad at making friends the normal way, with Natasha circling Sharon after Winter Soldier and eventually ending with a team up on the horizon that I didn’t write.
“Is that how you usually make friends?” she asked. Natasha cocked her head to the side like she was thinking.
“I made one of them by pretending to be someone else so she’d hire me,” she said. “That’s different.” It sounded like a joke. Sharon suspected it was also serious. “Then there’s Maria – I was a hundred-ten pounds of pissed off at the world when I met her. The other ones…one I met through an alien invasion and one was trying to kill me. Then there’s Wilson – I did knock on his door first.” Sharon stared at her. Romanoff smiled, a little – still sharp but maybe a little brittle. “I don’t really do usual, Agent Carter.”
The Children of the War. The Nebula/Loki one that’s really fucking dysfunctional, but was also a lot of fun to write. And also made me think a Lot about Nebula and seriously, I love Nebula a lot, you guys. People who are very much not good for each other, but are definitely good for me: these two.
“Thanos wants something from you,” Nebula corrected. “I will see that he gets it.”
“But you do not know what it is.” The creature leaned back against a rock, half-lidded eyes on her. Nebula took a step toward it but it did not flinch back. “You’re little more than Thanos’ dog, aren’t you? Licking after his scraps, fawning for his attention. You bite on his command.” Its lips curled up at the corners. “I know what that’s like.”
She hauled it up by the front of its leather garb without thinking and struck it across the face. Its lip split and it laughed and grinned at her.
“I am a daughter of Thanos,” she hissed.
“And I am a son of Odin,” it said, and she did not know why it laughed, blood on its teeth. She dropped it.
Abyss (follow up to Monstrosity, but I like this one better). In the first fic, I wrote an awful “drugs/evil minions made them do it” version of Clint/Loki that was the opposite of sexy, and then in this fic I wrote about Clint remembering the things Loki made him forget. It’s a dark and kind of nasty little fic and I’m inordinately fond of it.
He had these dreams, sometimes; beautiful, sweet dreams right up until he woke up with a feeling of panic fluttering in his chest (and yearning, just underneath). Those were the dreams where Loki took him back, or sometimes just spoke simple praise, you did well. He remembered the feeling he’d had when he’d gotten that sort of praise, the way his heart swelled and all he wanted was to hear more of it, again, to know that he’d pleased.
Early on, most of the dreams had been nasty ones, dark and awful where he’d woken up to Natasha lying dead at his feet or similar, where Loki had dragged him struggling back into his thrall and Clint had felt his mind subsumed, his desires pushed out, everything that was him sinking into the wave of heavy, oppressive peace.
He didn’t have those so much anymore. Now it was the quieter kind, the kind where he woke up feeling joy twisting his heart and hated that poison more than the painful kind, because it felt like it could seep into him even easier. The ones where Loki just talked and it was perfectly reasonable and little by little all his objections slid into insignificance.
“Don’t ask me,” Loki says, and spits. “It wasn’t - my idea.” He laughs, and it sounds like a dog coughing. He sways. “For Asgard,” he says. “For Asgard.”
“You only want to save yourself,” Thor accuses. Maybe that was true once, Loki thinks. He’s no longer certain he knows what that would mean. Does he have a self left to save? When he is no longer playing Odin’s role, what is left? He has played out all his other selves: brother, villain, sacrifice. He does not want to wear any of them again.
“What would you have me do,” Loki asks, turning on the water to wash away his mess and slumping to the floor. He looks at the Allfather’s hands (his hands).
Thor makes no answer. Perhaps he does not know either. Frigga reaches out to comfort him and he flinches back; he has not earned it.
“When my parents got my siblings and I back from foster care, they went out and bought a bunch of Disney movies. The first movie I ever remember watching was The Lion King. We all cuddled on the couch and watched it and I fell asleep in my dad’s arms. Now whenever I watch the Lion King it makes me think of having my family back again. :)”