#probablyunnecessary

for @probablyunnecessary​

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The only sound in the entire apartment was the ticking of the clock out in the kitchen.  Darcy was still awake, though. She was trying to keep her breathing level as she stared up into the ceiling and relished the close contact with her boyfriend.

Not that she was starved for his touch or anything.  She wasn’t. He touched her plenty. Held her too. Brock was a very hands-on sort of guy in the romantic sense. He could hoist her into his arms with little to no issue, press her against the mattress and run those long fingers through her hair… she adored the way he touched her while he was awake.

But when he was sleeping, he was like a big teddy bear.  His limbs felt heavy where they were draped across her, one leg slung up across both of hers, one arm across her belly, the other behind her neck like some kind of a muscly pillow. Which was an image she was quick to dispel because that wasn’t what she wanted to think about right now.

His breath ruffled her hair, and every so often he nuzzled her throat, cheeks rough like sandpaper against her skin, as he inhaled her scent deeply and cuddled her tighter.

It's going to be so fucking FANTASTIC! I haven't been this excited since Spectre and I can't fucking WAIT.

So many questions!!! So much to figure out!!! So much Daniel Craig goodies!!!!!!! That polo!!! And Blofeld!!! And!!!!!

Yaaaay!! Thanks for the prompt! <3

30. ‘I’m really sorry I tried to decapitate you but this is why no one should plan a zombie flash mob.’

Pairing: Darcy/Bucky/Steve

Rating: G

Darcy stepped back and stared between the three Avengers, two towering over her and pushing the third behind them as he sank to his knees clutching at the metal arm she had just electrically fried.

“Oops,” she said, and dropped the fire emergency axe she’d grabbed off the stairwell wall. It was meant as a gesture of peace but mostly she realized it left her defenseless against an extremely irate and gruesomely costumed Captain America and Falcon.

“You okay, Buck?” Captain America asked, voice snapping and eyes never straying from their fixed glare on Darcy’s face. A little bit of fake rot flaked off his firm jaw line as he clenched it.

“That should not have worked,” Bucky rasped, staggering up again, and trying to shake his cybernetic arm awake again.

“Umm…Tony Asgardian proofed my taser,” Darcy explained, hoping to be helpful. “In case of Loki…Or Thor if the good for nothing ever decides to show his face around here and explain to me why he thought it was okay to take the last of my triple chocolate gelato with him on his way off Earth.”

Falcon’s right eye blinked and the loose eyeball hanging out the left socket swayed. “That taser would’ve come in handy in the early days,” he said.

“Sam,” Captain America growled but the Winter Soldier, Bucky, just snorted and rolled his death white eyes.

“I really am sorry I tried to decapitate you,” Darcy said to him, standing on her tiptoes to try to meet his eyes around Captain America’s pronounced shoulders. “But this is why no one should plan a zombie flash mob.”

They are tons of fun! I am hoping that the place I sent it will want the first story. (No word yet, but the deadline was only the 1st.) And then I’ll have to figure out what to do with the sequel….

Speaking of, tiny bit more of it?

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“And I’m coming with you.”“No you’re not,” said Pete and Rob and Ink simultaneously. John almost joined in just because of their shared forcefulness, but he did not, after all, know the Director; so he kept silent.“It’s not a debate.” Aidan rested elbows on his desk, looked at them levelly across laced hands. “It’s family. And you’ll need me.”“You’re the Director of the Magical Enforcement Division,” Pete said. “You can’t just swoop in and work a random case.”“You can’t break charms,” Ink said, and his voice trembled, barely noticeable, hurting with love. “You can’t use your voice on something that can’t hear you. And you’re barely a magician without it.” “We need you,” Rob said, surprisingly softly, “here, Aidan. If we lose you we lose more than just you.”“Yes,” Aidan said, “the MED loses the symbol, Joanne’s faith in me as her successor, the face of youth and change, a half magical creature, proof that you don’t have to be an old-fashioned purely human witch or enchanter or anything, I know.” He might’ve said this sarcastically; he didn’t. He did know; he took Rob’s objection and his own position seriously, John thought. “But I have thought about this. I’ve got a Deputy for a reason. I’ll stay out of any direct contact with curses or hexes or evil sorcerers. I promise.” He was holding Ink’s hand now. His voice held a thread of silvered steel underneath calm explanations. “I love Elena as much as anyone,” Pete said, “but she’s not you. She can’t do what you can do, literally, magically. Actually, call her in. Tell her about this. See what happens.”Aidan raised an eyebrow. A knock tapped against the door.“I hate it,” Pete said, “when you answer objections before we’ve come up with them.”Rob sighed, and watched Aidan. John covertly watched Rob doing the watching. Compassion in those sea-blue eyes. Loyalty in that heroic jawline. Rob had made his own argument on behalf of the department, but could also see and sympathize with his Director’s need to rescue family; all that was in that gaze, as Rob considered the mission.Funny, that. John hadn’t expected MED agents to be quite so good at emotional nuance. Nor so kind. Elena Ruiz proved to be thin and brown and quick as a sparrow; the Deputy Director of the MED was a weather-witch, John vaguely recalled, and had spent the last three months holding back terrible drought and brushfires across Southern California. She had short brown hair and a fearsome knife casually tucked into her belt; she listened to Aidan patiently for two minutes and then said, “You can’t go.”“Yes I can,” Aidan said. “Did you all miss the part about me being in charge?”“We need you here. We’re meeting with the Magical Oversight Committee next week, remember? No one else has your voice. And I hate politicians.”“We know,” Pete said, half under his breath, “we were there when you made it rain on Senator Whitmore, last time.”“He deserved it, that—”“Listen.” The silver-tipped spears in that voice cracked out and hit everyone in the room. A banshee’s voice: not a full command, but a sizzling diamond-edged reminder of what he could do. “This isn’t a discussion. My family won’t talk to anyone who doesn’t have a magical bloodline stretching back at least five generations. The best you’d get is a shut door. And if someone’s making cursed objects—and sending them after powerful families—then we need to know who and why. And I’m good at talking to people.” The implications rang darkly across the office: Aidan wanted to have words with the sorcerer behind this case. “So you need me. I’ll stay out of the way in the field and I’ll stay in touch with you, Ellie, but you’re running things here until we get back. Understood?”

“Okay, I’m not gonna be able to start cowboy!sam for a while because I...”

What are the books if you don't mind sharing? <3

Sure! She recommended:

When Indians Became Cowboys by Peter Iverson

The Legacy of Conquest by Patricia Limerick

Custer Died For Your Sins by Vine Deloria

Indians in Unexpected Places by Philip Deloria

I’m… putting my hands in the air because this is the first time I try my hand at what we call “het”? I mean, I usually go for femslash so yeah. Which means that you need to squint a lot? And possibly make funny faces? And it probably wasn’t what you wanted (Grammarly tells me that ‘het’ is not a word and ‘did you mean hot’?… No, Grammarly. no)

The first thing Sam Wilson had done once he was back from the ‘Stans was to check an appointment with a good psychologist and get treated for PTSD, then he’d started with the stages of grief, and group therapy, and then the VA and after a few years, he was finally able to stand on his feet again.

He was exactly where he wanted to be.

And then he decided to follow a punk that trolled him on his damn left.

From then on, Sam Wilson had lived on a roller coaster and he wasn’t getting down anytime soon. At least the pay was good. Very good, if he had to say so himself. The view didn’t hurt either.

And he had his work cut for him, too. Between the psycho assassin, the redhead assassin, the stalker assassin don’t you think I don’t see you in the vents, Barton, Steve Grant Rogers that counted for four people alone, he had his plate more than full (He didn’t really count the ‘Science!’ Club, they were herded by their own shepherd and that was a blessing indeed. Darcy Lewis deserved her own monument). 

It was by a complete accident that he realized that March 17th was coming up in three days (where had the time gone?!). 

With March 17th came unbidden the images of Riley, and despite the fact that now the guilt didn’t eat him from the inside any longer, it still hurt. 

That day, he spent it like every other March 17th.

He visited Riley’s grave, called Sandra, asked her how it was going, traded some words of circumstance even if with his moving to New York and then to “Avengersland” he hadn’t been able to keep properly in touch, he’d then visited the closest memorial site, left some flowers, and went home. 

And probably he hadn’t been very subtle about his mood but staring at the window for a long time was as subtle as he could really be today.

In front of him was placed a mug of chocolate and a couple of scones.

“Hey.” It was Darcy.

“Hey.” He didn’t really look up.

Darcy never minded when people did that. She had a very keen eye for their brand of hurt or moodiness, and she was capable enough not to let any of this bother her. And a heart of gold.

“These are for you.” She pushed the plate a little closer to him. There was an awkward smiley face on top of the chocolate.

“…Is this a trick?” He tried for joking smile, it ended up being ‘pained smile’. Almost nailed it.

“No.” She said with certainty. “It’s a bribe. Nat’s promising to smash James on the mat and I need you to step in before they do it.”

He huffed, but took the mug and sipped at it anyway. “Why?” He couldn’t really step in the way of anyone, especially Nat. 

“Because I’ve got 10 bucks on you stopping them, of course.”

He choked on his drink.

She winked at him. “Let’s go?”

not any problem at all! hope you like it. :) also, a million thanks to @ragwitch for the plot idea. this prompt would’ve been terrible without you, Queenie!

If her eyes rolled any harder, Darcy thought they might get stuck in the back of her head. Fortunately, neither Thor nor Sam seemed to notice how unimpressed she was. The wind was blowing quite heavily at the top of the Tower; it whipped her hair all around her head, hiding her expression. The next gust shoved a handful of hair into her face, stinging her cheeks and choking her.

She’d had quite enough. The men were standing almost nose to nose, comparing their…flying capabilities. Normally she’d find the bickering foreplay pretty hot, but she was cold and the wind was starting to sting. And her hair was now officially a rat’s nest.

“Alright, I’m going inside,” she called. They didn’t hear her over the wind, or maybe they were simply too lost in their ‘competition’ to pay attention to her words. Pausing, she realized that there was a better way to get their attention and settle this stupid debate once and for all.

With a mischievous grin, she headed in their direction. As she strode toward them, she took the hairband she kept around her wrist and tied her hair up in a messy bun at the back of her head. She wanted to be able to see their reactions for this one.

They looked up as she stepped in their direction, jumping apart guiltily. Why, she didn’t know. It’s not like she didn’t know how they felt about each other. They’d all spent the previous evening proving it, all three of them. Thor looked a little sheepish, and Sam offered that grin he always used to get himself out of trouble. Ah, so they thought she was annoyed that they’d been ignoring her. They were partially right.

“Darcy?” Thor asked gently. She didn’t respond as she drew closer. They stepped back to give her room between them.

“You okay?” Sam finished, and they both looked at her in concern.

“This is ridiculous,” she said, and their eyes dropped guiltily. “You know I’m not going to choose between you—it’s ridiculous to ask me who I think is better at flying. Because I love you both, equally.” She walked between them, not breaking stride. The hands that reached out to hold her dropped in confusion.

“But—” they said in unison, then glared at each other.

“I told you I’d go flying with both of you,” she said, almost to the edge of the roof. “But like little boys, you couldn’t decide who got to take me first.” Sam’s eyes narrowed with worry as she drew closer to the edge, while Thor looked like he was on the verge of figuring it out. A smirk grew on his face, and thunder boomed in the distance.

Turning to face them dramatically, stepping up onto the little lip of the roof, Darcy intoned, “Guess you better figure it out now.” And stepped backward into the empty air.

All things considered, she fell freely for probably less than three seconds. Thor caught her first, arms gripping her securely as he caught her and surged upward. “That was very clever,” he rumbled against her hair, a smile clear in his voice. Darcy said nothing, but wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a light kiss to his throat.

Sam wasn’t far behind. She probably could’ve heard his shouting from miles away, though. “Why am I always doomed to fall for heroes and thrill-seekers?” he complained loudly, circling them as they ascended. She was pretty sure he did it to make sure she received the full brunt of his pouty face, and she hid a smile against Thor’s neck. And then they were back on the roof.

Sam and Thor flanked her, making sure she wouldn’t pull a stunt like that again. Not that she needed to—it had worked quite well, she thought. They were no longer fighting over her like a prized bone.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she said to Sam, glaring at him pointedly.

His pout held out for another stubborn second, and then relaxed into a charming grin. “Alright,” he chuckled, “you’ve got a point there.” His grin grew mischievous, and he stepped toward her. “But since Thor caught you, it’s my turn now.”

Lightning flashed in the distance, and she could feel Thor’s glare like a physical weight as it bored into Sam. He opened his mouth, but Darcy decided to cut off the argument before it could start up again in full force.

“If y’all don’t quit it, I’m gonna go ask Stark if he’ll take me flying,” she threatened, jerking her thumb over her shoulder toward the general direction of the elevator.

They quit bickering immediately, turning to her with identical pouts. Laughing lightly, she peppered kisses over both of their faces. As she pulled away, she compromised, “I’ll go flying with both of you, for real. But you have to decide who gets to go first. Nicely.” She stressed the last word, looking from one to the other.

*Cracks knuckles* ;)

The first bit of advice?  Have patience.  Lots of patience.  Most liquid lipsticks are very quick drying, so it’s better to go slow and get it right on the first try than have to attempt to correct it afterwards (which will usually end up smearing and then involve having to take everything off - including any other foundation you may have around the mouth - and starting fresh).

Second?  Nude colors will always be a bit more forgiving by their nature of being closer to skin color.  At least in my experience.

Third?  Take the lips in sections.  Start at the plumpest part of the lower lip, then move to one side, fill that in, before going on to the other side.  You’ll have better control that way and should be able to get a more precise line for your look.

My last piece of advice is to watch this video by one of my favorite YouTubers, who’s known for her amazing lipstick swatches (and is also a makeup artist, which I find makes me feel better when watching tutorials).  She’s got some good advice in there and it’s a great place to start: