Posts tagged Fic
Posts tagged Fic
Agent Speer’s eyes got very, very large when Maria stepped into the elevator. Maria decided to take that as a good sign. “Good evening, Agent,” she said, shifting the delicate strap of her clutch purse higher on her shoulder. She had her jacket thrown over her arm, and she considered putting it on now.
She regretted agreeing to meet here at SHIELD, but she didn’t know what would’ve been a better option. She wasn’t going to Avengers Tower, she’d prefer to involve her own people than the Avengers in her love life.
Not that she had a love life. She had a date. One date. Her first date in a very long time.
“Good evening, ma’am.” Speer hugged a leather folio against her chest, her short red curls bouncing as her head jerked in Maria’s direction, and then away. She was blushing, her cheeks so pink that her freckles nearly disappeared. “If I might, ma’am, that is an amazing dress.”
Maria bit back a smile. “Thank you, Agent.”
Agent Speer’s shoulder relaxed, and she risked a smile in Maria’s direction. “Whatever you’ve got planned tonight, ma’am, you’re going to knock ‘em dead.”
In which Thor visits Frigga in honor of Mother’s Day.
((the previous parts of this can now be found in one piece on AO3, or linked here: http://scifigrl47.tumblr.com/fic ))
The interoffice mail envelope was marked private and confidential, but that wasn’t exactly uncommon around SHIELD headquarters. The words “This means you!” printed in a broad tip marker, that was a little more unusual.
Maria weighed the bulky envelope in one hand, and, eyes flicking towards the ceiling, she broke the seal. A book with a cheerful cartoon sort of cover hit her desk with a thump, its pages bulging with post-it note flags poking out in all directions. Maria considered it. “What do you know,” she said out loud. “The damn book actually is titled ‘What Do You Say to a Naked Elf?’ I really thought she made that up.”
There was a note in the envelope, and for a second, she considered sweeping the whole mess into the trash can and pretending that it had never arrived. Instead, she fished the page out. Anna’s writing was surprisingly legible, considering her occupation.
“Just in case you decide to join us,” the note said, “you’ll need a copy of this month’s gem. It’s a fast read, and pretty funny. I’ve marked the hot n’ sexy parts with post-it flags, so you can skip ahead if you get bored.”
Maria looked at the book. There were so many bits of florescent colored paper sticking out of the damn that that it looked like it had exploded. “That’s a lot of hot and sexy bits,” she said, her mouth pursed. “And I honestly don’t know if that makes the concept better, or so much worse.” She went back to the note.
“Your hot n’ sexy mileage may vary, according to personal tastes and orientation, but tell you what, if you suck it up and get through this, I’ll nominate you to choose our next ‘happy sexy funtimes’ book. We do it by picking the most excellent titles we can find off the internet after having a bit too much to drink, then we throw all the names in a hat and choose one at random. This one won out over a book about having sex with a dragon.”
Maria’s head tipped to the side. Then went back the other way. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to wrap her mind around that. She was actually happy that she couldn’t. Life had gotten weird over the last few years, but her brain still balked at ‘sex with a dragon.’
As she was one of the few inhabitants of earth with actual access to, well, dragons, that was probably a good thing.
In which DJ learns to swim.
Author’s Note: I’m having a really lousy day today, so I’m politely asking that if this story isn’t to your liking, or if there are any typos, please, don’t share. I really am not up for it today. 8)
Why, look, it’s June, so of course, I have added the month of March to the Calendar fic.
This month, enjoy as Tony and company enjoy St. Patrick’s Day!
And really regret it the day after.
I’ve posted part two of “Working Both Sides of the Sheets,” aka “Phil Coulson is not a hooker, but Clint Barton thinks he is.”
As a reminder, this work is locked to registered users. You will not be able to read it unless you are registered and logged into AO3. 8)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Now that I’ve started working on it again (ugh I abandoned this for so long I suck) I’ve posted the first part of the Hill/Sif femslash to AO3.
All the Marvel Ladies. ALL OF THEM.
((stares)) I had anon on for like FIVE MINUTES. HOW DID YOU SNEAK IN?
Fine. You know what? I admire your sniping skillz. 8)
Nat didn’t ask why. Or even how. She just gave Clint a look. ”Bit late in life for piggy back rides, don’t you think?”
Clint held up his right arm. It came with Phil’s left foot, the two connected by a pair of handcuffs. ”This was the best solution we could come up with,” he said, even as he fell into step with Nat. He shifted his grip, making sure that Phil’s weight was centered on his back.
Phil, unruffled as ever, kept one arm looped around Clint’s neck, and held his other hand out to Natasha. “While I appreciate the rescue, I’d appreciate it even more if you’d see fit to lend me a damn gun.”
She was shaking her head. ”I brought your bow,” she said to Clint, even as she flipped a pistol around with a flick of her wrist, offering the grip to Phil.
"Not really sure I can manage that," Clint said, as they ducked around a corner. "It would require a group effort, and that’s not happening. Head down, sir."
Phil’s body curled close, his cheek brushing against the side of Clint’s head as he ducked. ”On your seven,” he said, and Natasha spun, perfectly balanced on one foot as she took the shot. Her target went down, and she was running again before his body hit the ground.
The second chapter of “Truth Behind Masks,” my weird little identity porn, is up on AO3.
In which Tony makes poor choices and the Avengers are really horrible people.
Steve doesn’t want to be the den mother, it just HAPPENS.
((SPOILERS FOR CAP 2: You know who’s fault this is? It’s Kara’s. It’s Kara's fault. This Kara. Right here. THIS KARA. SHE IS THE WORST. Anyway, we started discussing why Clint didn’t show up in Cap 2. And of course, because KARA IS THE WORST, her immediate explanation was the worst explanation ever. That if Hydra had Loki’s scepter, wouldn’t they want the only controllable victim of that weapon, too? Just how many cages did they have down there, anyway? My Post-Cap 2 fic, still untitled, not part of any of my established verses. Trigger warnings for mentions of physical and mental torture and drugging, but nothing explicit)
She was crying again.
He could barely hear it, most nights. Most days, too. The sound was always faint, muffled by stone and glass and whatever else was in these damn cages. In fact, Clint was surprised he could hear it at all. But somehow, he always did.
Whenever they brought her down, he could hear her crying.
In his more poetic, or drugged moments, he wondered if the sound carried because it so desperately needed to be heard, or if her grief was loud enough to overcome the concept of sound itself. Because she never screamed, or wailed, or howled, the way some caged animals did. She simply cried, but her tears had weight.
He didn’t hear her all that often. They didn’t bring her down all the often. But when they did, she wept.
Yes, I know, I still owe you all March and January, but I finished April. 8)
The latest month in a year in the life of the Avengers.
The first full chapter of “Truth Behind Masks” is up on AO3.
Go enjoy Tony’s poor life choices and suffering.
It’s going to be DELICIOUS.
You know. If you like watching Tony Suffer.
((Here, have the first small piece of the Identity Porn piece. This will likely not be put on Tumblr, but instead put up in chunks on AO3. It assumes that Tony did take advantage of Coulson’s “Iron Man is a body guard” alibi, and none of the Avengers know that Tony Stark, who owns Avengers Tower where they live and have their headquarters, is also Iron Man, who often fights alongside them. Tony’s Arc Reactor is not public knowledge, and he’s used a variety of methods to give the illusion that Iron Man is a different person. Pepper and Rhodey, of course, know the truth. I like women, so we’re adding some to the ranks. BECAUSE NEEDS MORE LADIES.))
“You are pushing your luck right now. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“What, by calling you while people are shooting at me? That’s, that’s really not a thing, Rhodes, that’s Tuesday in my world.” Tony banked hard to the left, pushing the armor to its absolute limit as he took the corner, repulsors screaming in his wake. Bullets exploded glass windows just a meter or two behind his feet, and he gritted his teeth for a second. Adjusting his trajectory, he dove under a bridge. He cut it so close that he was pretty sure he’d ruined the armor’s paintjob, but it was worth it. Two of the robots went down in explosions that sent shockwaves through the air, knocking him off-kilter.
Tony had to struggle to keep himself on course, and he bounced off a bridge piling before he pulled himself out of it. He was still choking on a curse when his comm unit beeped. Tony rolled, nailing two of his pursuers with a single repulsor blast. “Gimmie a second here, Rhodey, I got another call.”
“Really? You’ve got another-”
Tony switched the feed, without so much as a flinch of guilt. “I’m on it, Cap, I’ve got it.”
“Where ARE you?” Steve snapped. “We are supposed to be-”
“I’ve got this,” Tony repeated, picking off two more before he flipped into a flat dive.
“Hawkeye says you just hit a bridge.”
The second and final chapter of “Rescue Missions and Mistaken Identities” is up on AO3. Thank you all for your patience. 8)
(and finally, the end. 8) )
He felt like he’d been hit by a truck.
Phil opened his eyes, and it hurt more than it should have. Gritting his teeth against a spike of pain behind his temples, he struggled to get his eyes to focus. He regretted it immediately.
Phil did a quick recalculation. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck, and he had no idea where he was. Or why there was what appeared to be a very small foot tucked under his chin. He stared at it, trying to force his eyes to focus on the little foot and the kid attached to it, who was mostly a purplish blur.
“Good morning, Agent Coulson. How are you feeling?”
“Well, that answers one question,” Phil said, putting a hand over his eyes and squeezing, trying to keep his eyeballs in place. “I’m in the Tower. And DJ is wearing Hawkeye pajamas. I’ve been better, Jarvis. Where, exactly, in the tower, am I?”
“In the net in DJ’s playroom. Do you have any memory of the past twenty-four hours?”
Phil stopped. Thought about that. Tilted his head to the side to consider the floor of the playroom, a long way below them. “You mean, do I have any memory of how I ended up asleep in DJ’s playroom? No. No, I do not.”