We're gonna run out of cake at this rate

This is for all of you, all who stood by me, pressed their virtual shoulder gently against mine as I struggled to get through this week. Thank you. I appreciate it more than words can say. ♥ I hope this is at least a small token of my appreciation.


Title: In the backseat
Pairing: Clint/Coulson, with blink-and-you'll-miss-them references to Steve/Tony and Natasha/Pepper
Rating: NC-17 like whoa.
Warnings: Strong elements of D/s, bondage, subspace, object insertion, discussion of death (in the line of duty) and trust -- freely given, and fluff. Yeah, I know. >.>;;
Word count: ~5,900
Summary: In which Clint takes a leap of faith in more ways than one.
Notes: Entirely based on the first Avengers trailer that aired during the Superbowl. Madly encouraged by a number of people (you know who you are), and betaed by the rather wonderful laria_gwyn (thank you, baby. ILU). Please heed the warnings, although I'll admit that this is just as rife with ~feeels as usual. :) Title from In the backseat by The Arcade Fire, which is the theme song for this fic.


( 'What's the matter with you? Is your comm broken, couldn't you hear me shouting?' )

I've been very quiet, recently. I know. It's because I've been writing ALL THE FUCKING WORDS EVER. And now I feel terribly :( because delicatale and I have spent the day writing very sad boys indeed. And also foxxcub is at a point in her story that is making me want to sob. And I actually can't even face writing the end of The Sequel because it's going to make me so sad, too. At over 12K, it's high time I killed it off, but, well. It will happen when thinking about it doesn't make me want to crawl under the covers and cuddle a stuffed toy to my chest. :(((

...Anyway. That's where I've been. And I've also been somehow talked into signing up for c_im_bigbang's RBB edition, because someone (read a member of my damned enablers squad) dangled THIS MOST GLORIOUS OF PICS under my nose and, well. My willpower isn't all it's cracked up to be. >.>;; Those of you who have been around for a while *coughnarutocough* will know that at one point I spent a period of time writing ALL THE SPORTS AUS EVER. And had an obscenely enjoyable time while doing so. I think it's time to get back to basics. :DDDDD THIS IS MAKING ME FEEL BETTER ALREADY. :D UGH THIS IS GOING TO BE AMAZING AND THERE'S GOING TO BE ALL THE UST EVER. ;P

Seriously, writing sad boys is making me sad. I need all the fluff. :(((

UGH I STILL HAVE WORDS I WANT TO TALK ABOUT EXCEPT THAT I APPEAR TO BE ALL WRITTEN OUT. All right, that's all the moaning I'm allowing myself to do tonight BECAUSE ACTUALLY THIS IS ALL AMAZING STUFF, BECAUSE IF I'M FEELING THIS HORRIBLY SAD ABOUT IT, IT'S PRETTY DAMN GOOD WRITING, YES? :)

NOW BRB FINDING SOME FLUFF TO WALLOW IN. <3

Oh my fucking god ONE OF THESE DAYS I WILL STOP LETTING delicatale GIVE ME ALL THE SODDING PLOT BUNNIES EVER.

...I can't see that day happening ANY TIME SOON, if I'm honest. AND ALL SHE DID THIS TIME WAS SHOW ME THIS:



AND ALLLLL THE BUNNIES SAT UP AND TOOK NOTICE LIKE IT WAS A SACKFUL OF CARROTS. WHY, BRAIN, WHY.

For interested parties -- YES, WE ARE WRITING THIS THING. IT IS GOING TO BE AN AU WHERE STEVE AND BUCKY AND NATASHA AND CLINT OWN THIS GARRAGE IN BROOKLYN, AND TONY'S SWANKY NEW CAR BREAKS DOWN LIKE TWO BLOCKS AWAY, AND HE DOESN'T HAVE HIS TOOLS HANDY AND GOES IN AND THERE IS ALL THE SNARK AND BAITING AND BANTERING AND UST. AND THEN HE TELLS HIS CFO ABOUT IT, WHO JUST HAPPENS TO BE ONE PHIL COULSON... I THINK YOU KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING. ALL THE ROMANCE. ALLLLL THE ~FEEEEELINGS.

...OH MY GOD, WHY AM I LIKE THIS. :(

I have spent the morning writing filthy, filthy Clint/Phil dirty talk porn for/with foxxcub (who encourages me in all the worst ways). So that was an eeeexcellent distraction, I AM JUST SAYING. >XDDDD And it appeased the strangely perky mood I woke up in rather nicely. ;P

And then I found THE SEXIEST COFFEE MACHINE EVER to feature in the piano-bar-singer!Clint/baker-coffee-shop-owner!Phil AU that I am writing. GUYS, I WANT IT. IT'S HUGE AND METAL AND CHROME AND A FUCKING MONSTER AND I WANT IT SO FUCKING BAD. *_______________*

...But now I am BORED. I have two hours to go until the end of my shift (before two glorious days off tomorrow, and until delicatale posts That Thing she's planning on posting (ETA: SHE HAS POSTED IT sfdhljkghsdgh YAY!!! THE CHRIS EVANS SILLY FACE'S FEST. LET US POST ALL HIS SILLY PUPPY FACES. <333333), I need a distraction that isn't WRITING ALL THE DIRTY TALK PORN IN THE WORLD, GOD. So.


THE "TURN-ON"/"TURN-OFF" MEME

Ask me things and I'll tell you if they're a turn-on or a turn-off for me, possibly probably with visual aids, a.k.a. PICSPAM.

I'll start. This photoshoot or Fem!Sherlock is possibly one of THE HOTTEST THINGS I HAVE EVER SEEN, FUCK ME SIDEWAYS. O_____________O

All right. Door's open -- come on in, pull up a chair, pick your poison, settle the hell down for the evening/afternoon/the time of day you fancy. <333

So apparently, even a week later, I still have ALLL THE TRF FEELS EVER. I've pored over all the post-TRF fics I could find, have gorged myself on John's mysery and despair. However, I haven't been able to find a Mystrade fic that deals with the aftermath. And when, last night, I sat down to write a wee little thing about it, for the reason outlined below, I found I had all the words, and, er. This happened. It's actually not what I set out to write at all, but it turns out it's what wanted to get written, so.


Title: The Space Between
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade, hints of Sherlock/John
Rating: R
Word count: ~3,000
Warning: Spoilers for TRF, perceived character death, hurt/comfort, angst, hints of alcohol abuse.
Summary: In which Lestrade deals with the aftermath of the events showcased in TRF, vis-a-vis the other Holmes brother.
Notes: For the very wonderful stardust_made, whose birthday was last week. I've only just found out, and wanted to write a little something to celebrate the start of her next trip around the sun.


( What's the point of giving anyone a key if you're going to make it impossible for him to use it a bloody week later? )

...Fuck it, I'm downloading Grimm, even though I need another TV show like I need a bullet in my brainpan. I have been convinced. Spent an hour last night waxing lyrical to a family friend (with whome we share quite a bunch of TV shows, he's such a fanboy despite being my parents' age :D) about Sherlock and how bleedin' incredible all the acting and Martin Freeman and everyone and Molly and JOHN and BC and Lestrade and Mycroft and JOHN were, and as a result he's plenty excited to watch it now! :D

( THE BAMFEST BAMF WHO EVER BAMFED )

WATSON, MARRY ME. ♥___________♥

I also have White Collar 3x11 on my laptop, and I'm prepared for ALLLL THE OT3 FEELS again. <33333 Show, I have missed you so.

Was rudely awakened at half nine this morning by my nephew, whom I then had to coax to sleep again. If you've never had to convince a cranky nine-month-old that yes, he really does want to go to sleep, you have no idea of the tricks I had to employ. I cycled through the widest diversity of bands until I hit on The Beatles' Here Comes the Sun and he finally relented. Upon which I fetched Rivers of London (which continues to be in every way delightful, I am totally ordering part two as we speak), and spent a happy forty-five mins lazing in bed next to him.

Then he woke up, and I could make myself the best cup of coffee in the entire world. A couple days ago my beloved zolac_no_miko's Christmas present arrived -- she had sent me (amongst other things) a pack of Ka'u coffee beans. IT IS THE MOST AMAZING THING I HAVE EVER TASTED. Darling, I'm sold, hook, line and sinker. <3333333333 jhgfhjfhslkfjghfdk you guys, you have no idea how delicious that thing is. It tastes of sunshine and living things and lush green valleys. I am going to smack anyone who wants to steal some of my stash so hard. Even baby Nicky approved; he wouldn't let go of the pack, and was totally going after my mug before I whisked it away. :DD

Anyway. Feeling much better today. Certainly a vast amount less fragile, despite the early wake-up call. Also, words happened last night!! \0/ \0/ For which I totally blame my enablers. XD The singer!Clint story has a complete first scene now, at 2,500 words! :D And laria_gwyn has been invaluable, with her smart, delicious ideas, and badass googlefu, and much-needed support, and just plain being wonderful. ...As a result of which I also have just over 1,000 words of a Pepper/Phil thingie? Those of you who listened to me yammer on about them and told me it was THE BEST IDEA AND NOT MAD AT ALL are also to blame. :DDD I'm... pretty pleased with what I wrote, but words were still being conniving bastards, and I think it needs a wee bit of work -- it read a bit clumsy last night. Could just be me beeing a moody bitch, of course. But it shall be up soon! AND THEN laria_gwyn IS GOING TO WRITE THE NEXT PART AND SO ON AND SO FORTH AND IT IS GOING TO BE DELICIOUS. \0/ \0/ \0/ \0/ \0/ Simple, innocent (for now, because I have plans for the two of them, ho yus) fun writing, OH HOW I'VE MISSED YOU. :') Also it's been I don't even know how long since I've written anything het -- no pairing has really grabbed me, for so long, and this is going to be a wonderfully useful exercise! <3

So yes. Words! White Collar! Rivers of London! Amazeballs space ficlets from delicatale! The start of an EPIC POST-TRF FIX-IT FIC from irisbleufic!! Pretty damn good going all round, me thinks. :D And now I'm going to faff about all day, I imagine. I'm not planning anything -- just see where the day takes me. I'm sorely in need of just such a no-pressure-do-whatever day. <3 First day in a while when I've been excited rather than frustrated about writing! I might work on shit! I might watch telly! I might read! DAY-OFF GOODNESS, COME TO ME. <3333

Exhausted. Have just spent twelve and a half hours working my arse off without a single break (no lunch break; not even a tea break). The only thing that kept me sane was basically delicatale, who last night incepted me with a plot bunny and, uh. Well, basically we have ~9,000 words of a Clint/Phil, Steve/Bucky Paranormal Romance AU. YES, WE'RE MAD. XD Now that we've got that out of the way, it, seriously, it saved my sanity today. I am ready to drop. It is made of sunshine and rainbows and fairies (*snort* you'll get it when you read it, I promise) and boys in looooove. <3333 Because I happen to have a slightly unsavoury history of obsession with the genre, and I have dragged delicatale kicking and screaming with me. SHE SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO SAY THESE THINGS TO ME. XD

So behind on the Snowflake Challenge. I'm gonna do a big joint post tomorrow, I think. I've just been too drained to can.

This helped, though:



Via delicatale, via exampleofinconsistency

BECAUSE, I MEAN. I'M KNACKERED, NOT DEAD. *___________________*

Also, this made me laugh so hard that my dad asked me what on earth I was reading.





Source: martinfreemanstongue

Yeah. XDDD

Also, there is this:



HOW AM I EVEN GOING TO COPE. T___________T

All right. Day off tomorrow. Possibly more Clint/Phil and Steve/Bucky and ~FEEEEEEELINGS. <3

Having spammed delicatale with these in a series of increasingly flailtastic emails, I THINK EVERYONE OUGHT TO FEAST THEIR EYES UPON THEM. Let's end the year with a bang.

First up: JEREMY RENNER. BECAUSE THERE SHOULD ALWAYS BE MORE JEREMY RENNER.



JEREMY RENNER + CARS. THIS CAN'T REALLY GET ANY BETTER.

Also there is this SPECTACULAR piece of art by Odora over at dA:


A-team by *Odora on deviantART

I. CANNOT. STOP. STARING. THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING. *_____________* Can I just say, CLINT'S POSE. *fluttering hearts EVERYWHERE*

And speaking of things I can't stop staring at -- zoronoa DREW PHIL AND CLINT FOR delicatale AND I. I AM ALL FLAILY AND TWITTERPATTERED WITH GLEE, BECAUSE JUST LOOK AT THEMMMMM. AJKHFJLFKGHLJFDG PHIIIIIIILLLLLL WITH THE TINY CRINKLES AROUND HIS EYES AND THE LINES AROUND HIS MOUTH AND JFHFJDDJHDG MAN OF MY HEART. ♥♥♥ THEY ARE SUCH BOYFRIENDSSSSSS. <3 You should all go stare at it and give zoronoa alllll the love!

For all those who get starry-eyed and wet-pantied (it's a word if I say it is, damn it) at the thought/sight of Tom Hiddleston, THIS WILL BE EXTREMELY RELEVANT TO YOUR INTERESTS. Hell, I don't find him all that attractive and even I'm all HHHHHNNNNNGGGGG over it. FOREHEAD WRINKLES + STUBBLE + TOOTHPICK + LEATHER JACKET. MMMMMMMMMMMMM.

In other news, slept extremely poorly last night, and today I am all djhfdjshldfhg WHAT IS BRAIN at work. Happily, it appears that I'll be finishing earlier than anticipated. \0/ \0/ Let's see if words want to make sense for me in the meantime! :D They appear to be working so far..... ROLL ON CHARLES WITH PUPPY.

....If I can bloody stop thinking about this idea delicatale and I discussed that I write for her, for the auction piece I owe her, where Phil owns and works the night shifts at an all-night cafe, and also BAKES ALLLL THE THINGS. And Clint is a piano bar singer who comes in to unwind two or three nights a week, in the small hours, when there's hardly anyone in but him and Phil and some die-hard insomniac writers, and they get to talking, and Phil bakes for him and talks him down and is basically the Phil Coulson we all know and love, and Clint is cranky and snarky and exhausted yet too wired to go to sleep, and they end up chatting about ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING AND FALL IN LOOOOOOOVE. /sap SO YES. THERE IS THAT. ER. >.> I HAVE TO SAY ALL THIS PRETTY ISN'T HELPING ME STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS PIECE OF SILLINESS.

Lastly: a lovely, lovely song to send the year off in style! :) Thank you, sheafrotherdon, for linking it! :) In conclusion: DIMPLESSSS. <3

So I've just watched this episode of Criminal Minds (while what I should be doing is finishing edits on my secret_mutant assignment, goddamn it X/), BUT. Okay, it's season 3, the one where there was this genius comic book artist that had a psychotic breakdown and murdered the guys who attacked him and his girlfriend/fiancee six months ago? Anyway, it's not important (although it's a bloody brilliant episode) -- the important thing is the last few minutes, as the team flies back to HQ (people who watch the show will know what I'm on about), and one of them muses how the guy was just an ordinary man not long ago, before he was forced to turn into this cold-blooded killer by circumstances, and wonders whether we all have that potential in us.

And now I'm having these thoughts, tangled up in Metanoia-influenced musings, of cold-blooded killers that murder with a steady hand because their victims are bad, bad people who damn well deserve it; of heroes tangled up in villains, The difference between a hero and a villain is one really bad day (I'll be damned if I know where that comes from; this particular version of events is Jesse's, I think -- zolac_no_miko, correct me if I'm wrong); “The noir hero is a knight in blood caked armor. He's dirty and he does his best to deny the fact that he's a hero the whole time.” (that one is Frank Miller). And now I have an absolutely debilitating craving for fics like that -- utterly sane, smirking men with bloody hands and a moral compass that only points due justice, if society won't do it then he/she bloody well will; of a good guy that's trying desperately hard to remain on the right side of the law even as he senses the lure of the other side. Of that good-ish guy meeting that other guy, the connection, the electric, magnetic spark between them (see Luther/Alice for example). Of someone so broken (Star), yet with the potential to be made slightly less so by the judicious application of a good man (Zan). UGH, IDK WHY I WANT IT SO FUCKING BAD, BUT I DO.

Tropes for the win, I guess! :) But I can't, I just can't help but think, Cap and Bucky, where Bucky isn't quite Winter Soldier but is close, the other side of the coin, getting his hands dirty because someone has to and it can't be Steve, Steve who is everything that is good in the world that Bucky sees -- bleak, dark, uncompromising, no rose-tinted spectacles for me, pal; the perpetual push-and-pull of them, jahfdaljkghajkghjhg OH, GOD.

#why, brain, why? If anyone has any story recs for me, in any fandom, pass 'em here, please! <3 Because I really, really fucking want it, bad enough to write an original story if that's what it takes. But come on, in all the world there's got to be someone as wonky as me that's already thought of something way better than anything I could come up with.

Also see: The Administration, which is the perfect example, and I'm going to pimp it out until everyone out there has read it, because Manna, man. Gal's a genius. You know I'm all about the fluff usually, but sometimes I need dark, blood-tinged fluff, I love you as certain dark things are to be loved-fluff (also, that poem, amirite? A perennial favourite, carved somewhere inside me). Because that's beautiful, too.

Look. I want you to know that I would have resisted. I would have. I could have done it, damn it. I even managed to resist the Bucky table, although it cost me something, I don't mind telling you.

But then kellifer_fic claimed the Cliche table from avengers_tables, and I got a good look at it.

And basically, that's all she wrote, folks. Like I said to her, I've never met a cliche I didn't like/couldn't subvert until I liked it. So, really, this was a foregone conclusion.

Cliche

pretending to be a couple	woke up married	magical transformation	inebriated confessions	"It was a dark and stormy night..."
forced bonding	coitus interruptus	"...and they lived happily ever after."	woke up on the wrong side of the bed	undercover operation
shopping for curtains	"you had me at hello"	huddling for warmth	amnesia	soulmates
kids or babies	fulfilling a prophesy/destiny	just in the nick of time	telepathy	mistaken identity
not really dead	phobias	in the future...	time travel	relying on the enemy

DAMN YOU, shinysylver AND somehowunbroken, YOU HORRIBLE ENABLERS, YOU.