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Title: The sun dies in your arms
Fandoms: Avengers movieverse/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton
Warnings: AU for MCU; way preseries for BtVS; talk of violence/death
Pairings: Steve/Bucky
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 530
Point of view: third
Prompt: Buffy/MCU, always-a-girl!Steve +/any, Brooklyn happens to be right on top of a Hellmouth; Steve's the Chosen One
Note: Definitely inspired by Darth Stitch’s Count Buckula ‘verse

Stevie Rogers was always getting into fights even before the whole vampire thing happened. She was shouting at a bully who'd been beating on one of the queers from down the street and when the man turned to face her, she saw that his face was -- wrong.

"What was that, girlie?" he hissed, lunging for her as the man on the ground crawled away.

"You heard me," she said, dodging to the side, quicker than she'd ever moved before.

"You're the Slayer!" the man cackled. "Oh, it's my lucky day."

She was able to avoid his grasp and her breath stayed even (which was a pleasant surprise), and her flailing punches were actually landing on him, what was going on?

"Hey, bloodsucker!" Bucky shouted from the mouth of the alley, "Catch!" When whatever he threw hit, the man went up in flames, screaming.

"Stevie, c'mon," Bucky said, waving her over. "We've got to get out of here."

"He called me a Slayer," Stevie told him as she hurried to him. Bucky made sure to look both ways before they carefully walked up the street towards their apartment. "What was he?"

Bucky sighed. "A vampire. And of course you're the Slayer -- not like you're trouble enough already."

"A vampire, really?" she asked.

Bucky glanced down at her. "You know where my ma's folks came from?"

Stevie nodded. Bucky's smile was strained and a little sad. "There's a reason they left the old country, a reason I never really believed. I thought Slayers were bedtime tales 'til I saw you fightin' a thrall."

"Thrall?" Stevie repeated.

"Wait 'til we're home," Bucky said. "I'll tell you everything I know."

Everything he knew turned out to be a lot, and Mrs. Barnes told her some more, but when the old Brit showed up and tried to muscle his way in, Bucky refused to let him. “You can’t trust the Watcher Council, Stevie,” he said, and how he could be so sure, she didn’t understand.

But Stevie Rogers trusted Bucky Barnes more than she trusted herself, so she listened to him.

Before he returned to wherever he came from, the Brit told Bucky, “We know what you are, boy.”

Bucky just grinned at him, head tilted cockily, and he shot back, “Then you know to keep your distance. She’s got me watching her back and that’s more than you and your council’ll ever do.”

Stephanie Rogers lasted the longest until Buffy Summers. How she finally died, no one is sure.

What no one knows is this:

“Please,” Bucky whispered, curled around Stevie as she died in his arms. “Please, please, let me, please.”

“Okay,” she murmured on her last breath.

Twelve hours later, she woke up to Bucky watching her, hands clasped tightly together, fear in his eyes.

She smiled at him and his entire body sagged in relief.

They said goodbye to their families and walked into the sunlight together, holding hands and discussing what to do next. War was raging in Europe, so they chose to avoid it. But South America – “I’ve always wanted to sketch some of those rain forest flowers,” she told Bucky.

He kissed her and said, “Then let’s go.”

Title: lay low and watch the bridges burn
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Black Roses
Warnings: spoilers for Winter Soldier; Clint’s got a pottymouth; talk of violence/assassinating
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 695
Point of view: third
Prompt: MCU, Clint Barton, anything for this song (Black Roses, from Nashville)

"Why should we give you a spot here?" Director Fury asked. Clint knew that he should be impressed, that most newbie agents probably wouldn't be vetted by the director himself.

But Clint hadn't slept in nearly three days, and he had all of his ability to be impressed beaten out of him years ago.

He's too tired to bullshit. They'll take him or they won't, and if they want to kill him instead of letting him go (and possibly back to the other side, which, to be real, is a possibility because his services aren't cheap (anymore)), he's too tired to fight his way out.

"Because I'm the best," he says. He doesn't bother tacking on a sir that no one in the room would believe.

Director Fury smiles at him. "Welcome to SHIELD," he says.


Clint isn't popular around SHIELD. He doesn't give a shit about that, either. He's got professional pride so he works with teams when needed, and he's so fucking efficient team leaders beg to get him for ops.

He's not being arrogant when he says he's the best. He's just being factual.

Then he's sent after a goddamned ghost and comes back with the little sister he's always wanted.


Natasha terrifies everyone except Clint, Coulson, and Fury. Clint sees himself go a little higher in people's eyes, but he just keeps doing his job.

Natasha's got red in her ledger. Clint doesn’t bother with that. He did what he did, and if he hadn’t, someone else would have. At least he kills quick.

But like all good things in Clint’s life, SHIELD ends. It dies a slow death, starting with a wave of blue and a mad god, and then finally choking with Hydra pouring out of every orifice.

After Tasha puts about half of SHIELD’s secrets on the web for the world to analyze, Clint sees multiple paths to take. He can go back to being a mercenary, he can get out of the life for good, he can move into Stark’s tower and become a superhero or some shit like that – and dozens more. Tasha’s ledger is still haunting her, and Clint wants what’s best for her, he doesn’t want to drag her down. She’s on a quest to find herself and he wishes her all the best. If she needs him, she’ll call (or text, or email, or tweet, or send a fucking carrier pigeon. Point is, she’ll be in contact).

Stark makes sure Clint knows there’s a floor with his name on it and then backs off. Natasha’s in the wind; Clint leaves a message with Stark for Cap, to let him know that if he needs help hunting his ghost, Clint’ll be there.

Clint spends a week in his dive apartment after the whole Hydra reveal. So many roads to choose from – he’s not the person he was before SHIELD, but he was never really SHIELD’s, either.

He wonders, nursing a bottle of piss-poor beer, what would have happened if Barney had picked him over Jack. If Barney had chosen him over money, over fame. Last he heard, Barney was behind bars somewhere because his partners were traitorous sacks of shit. Clint knows he’d have never betrayed Barney. Fucking idiot.

Good things never last. Maybe he should just see who he is when he’s not killing anyone. Not because his ledger’s stained with blood, not because he regrets anything he’s ever done. But because he’s curious.

Who is he when he’s by himself?

He crawls out of the bottle on a Wednesday, showers till the water runs cold, and then he heads out to walk around New York, see the sights, watch the tourists.

Who is Clint Barton? He’s an ex-circus act, an orphan, an ex-brother and then a brother of choice, he’s a sniper and a mercenary, he’s a minion and a hero –

Tasha once called him a good man. He never believed it, and it never bothered him. Maybe he could be one, though. At least it’s something new.

So why the hell not.

Tasha calls him when everyone’s getting together at Stark’s, a year after SHIELD’s skin peeled back to show Hydra beneath.

He goes.

Title: the true pleasures of life
Fandom: Avengers movieverse
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: post Cap3
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 155
Point of view: third
Prompt: Any, any, Sharktopus

After the shitshow that is his (entirely too long) life, the man who once was Bucky Barnes, once was the Winter Soldier, is now James -- look, he just really enjoys bad movies, okay? He can't explain it, and Steve doesn't get it because those made-for-TV movies literally hurt his artist's soul, but James...

Damn, he hurt himself, he laughed at Sharknado so hard. He hadn't laughed like that since 1940.

So, yeah. He has Jarvis pull up every godawful movie that exists and he watches them all because he has damn well earned it.

But this one, it's something special. He notices Steve peeking around the corner, and Steve just stares at the screen. "Is that..." he sounds somewhere between fascinated and horrified. "Is that an octopus shark?"

"It's sharktopus," James corrects with satisfaction. "C'mon, Steve. Give it a try."

Steve heaves the deepest sigh he can and then throws himself down beside James.

Wordcount: 95
Gen, PG, poetry
Prompt: any, any, he/she never thought it would end this way

did you think that i would walk
that i would dare to take large steps
away from you and all we were?

did you think that i
i, my dear, i you broke
did you dream that i
i could do it
that i could be so strong?

you held me in your hands
and i have stepped out
i have dared to try

yours no more
and glad of it

i, my dear, i

I alone

my footprints on the ground
your hands around me no more

did you ever think i would dare?

Title: the next day
Gen, PG, poetry
Prompt: any, any, when it comes down to it, there's no such thing as "the end"

eyes open

breath hurts
so does blinking
and fingers close into fists

how? and why? and where?
does it matter?

no. of course not.

eyes open
when did they close?

breathing breathing
take a breath
hold it

eyes open

stare at the sky


just breathe
count to ten


everything ended yesterday

start over

eyes open

eyes open
count to ten

because nothing is ever over
because nothing ever ends


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Sep. 1st, 2014 11:27 am (UTC)
*ahhh* Clint is so *Clint* and I love that :D

I've seen Sharknado now twice, and I actually think it's *not* that bad a movie... guess that says something about me *cough* XD

That last poem is really powerful, I can see it fit in so many worlds - beautiful :) <3
Sep. 2nd, 2014 04:58 am (UTC)

Dude, Sharknado and its sequel are marvels of modern cinema. I fucking love them.

Thanks for reading!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


king of the jungle
questioning in order to create

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