I tumblr’d, I fell Chapters: 80/80 Fandom: Thor (Movies), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow Characters: Darcy Lewis, Brock Rumlow Additional Tags: Tumblr Prompts Series: Part 1 of Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics Summary:

A collection of taserbones stuff I've written 'cause people asked for it on tumblr:

-Revealing some spooky Taserbones fics for the fall-

Ch. 67: Sorry, We’re Cursed! Please Come Back The last customer paid at the register and departed with their--thankfully, unhexed--Edwardian locket. Darcy locked the door behind them and flipped the sign so it said Sorry, We’re Closed! She was glancing out the window at passerby when something rolled up against the edges of her feet. She looked down. A doll’s head with glassy, empty eyes. “Cut it out, Rumlow,” she told the demon. Darcy didn’t look back. She found that semi-ignoring him made him grumpy, which was fun for her. “Come on, Lewis,” he said, leaning against a china cabinet. He was being physically visible now, which took effort, she knew.  She rolled the doll’s head back towards him. It stopped at the toe of his thick, sturdy boot. “You’ll scare the customers,” she told him dryly. When she’d mistakenly brought him over with her aunt’s antique spirit board, it was in his final guise of Crossbones. So, the man leaning against a cabinet full of jadeite glassware was heavily scarred with burns and in dark tactical pants and a t-shirt. He reached casually into a pocket and brought out an apple, chewing it noisily. “Stealing my produce now?” she asked, going over to windex down the glass jeweler counter.

Darcy comes from a long line of witches, each with their own area of expertise and talent. Darcy's skills work best in the kitchen; mixing and measuring; cutting and chopping, boiling and bubbling. Specialising in potions and elixirs, Darcy goes anywhere and everywhere she needs to perfect her craft—collecting herbs in the garden; stirring inky black brews at pitchest black midnight; decanting moonlight into bottles of silver, gathering unusual ingredients from the beach and in the woods… As long as she’s got her cauldron, her cat, the right ingredients, and the time to work her magic, Darcy is happy.

Witch Darcy! Completed and having a fantastic flight with a flighty Flerken!

danger is great joy, dark is bright as fire

“Needs more rose.”

A frown ghosts across her lips as she checks the translation scribbled in her own wobbly hand against the spell in her great-grandmother’s ‘recipe book’. “The book says three petals. I put in three petals,” Darcy replies with a shrug.

“Needs more rose and less of that orange stuff. You’ll never summon love with that pisspoor potion,” Aldis huffs. The familiar’s fluffy tail twitches, and he reaches out a paw to bat at the loose pink rose petals strewn across the bench.

“For Frigga’s sake it’s not a love spell, Aldis. It’s a luck spell for Jane getting her research grant extended,” Darcy says. She makes a shooing motion that the familiar ignores with the barest twitch of a small ear.

“Love would be better. You’d be far less trouble for me if you had a mate,” Aldis grumbles. The familiar stretches out on the workbench, wickedly sharp claws scrabbling over the surface.

The familiar wore the shape of a Pallas Cat, mottled fur and an indifferent and often grumpy face. He has been Darcy’s familiar since the day of Darcy’s thirteenth birthday. The day Darcy’s witch blood kindled and she received her great-grandmother’s book.

“You love me and my trouble.” Running a fingertip down the list of ingredients, Darcy takes a steadying breath to focus her will. Intent meant as much as words or ingredients in spell work. At least as far as Darcy is concerned. The spell called for five seeds from the center of an orange. There were two forlorn tangerines, of indeterminate age and sentience, from the charnel pit that is Jane’s fridge.

“Shut it, witch,” Aldis says, narrowing his yellow eyes.

Darcy rolls her bottom lip between her teeth and carefully slices one of the tangerines open with a paring knife. Digging around making a mess of the citrus fruit she pulls two tiny pips from the heart of the fruit and flicks them into the dinted copper spell pot. “Two down, three seeds to go.”

The second tangerine disintegrates into a pulpy mess in her hand at the merest kiss of the knife blade. Muttering under her breath, Darcy sifts through the orange pulp, separating out three more seeds.

“Okay, that’s the last of it,” she says moving the copper pot over the little camp stove that lives in the cupboard underneath the sink.

It takes a few minutes for the liquid in the pot to bubble. A curl of rose and tangerine scented steam rises from the bubbling potion. Darcy dips a wooden coffee stirrer into the mixture, stirring it around three times clockwise. Setting the stick aside she turns the camp stove off with a decisive flick of the wrist.

“I think we did good this time,” Darcy says.

“She thinks,” Aldis says just as the shop door opens with a merry jingle of the bell. The familiar’s eyes widen and he leaps off the bench. Landing in a mostly graceful heap Aldis scurries through the door of the back room and into the shop.

“Customers. Great,” Darcy sighs, wiping her hands on a piece of paper towel with out of season Easter eggs dancing across it. Straightening her shoulders and settling her face into her best customer service mask, Darcy shuffles out into the shop.

Pulling the door shut behind her Darcy surveys the shop floor. Doctor Selvig’s Emporium was part antique shop, part book store, and part museum. Mostly it was a dumping ground for whatever her boss, Dr Selvig himself, found interesting on his many travels. It paid Darcy’s bills, and helped furnish her box like apartment so it wasn’t all that bad.

The shop held two customers. An older woman, shorter than Darcy herself, with perfect blonde hair and a soft smile. The woman is cooing over Aldis as the familiar hulks on the counter beside the ancient cash register pretending to clean a dainty paw. The other customer was tall, with broad shoulders, a miniscule waist, and dark blonde hair.

“Hi, welcome to Doc Selvig’s Junk Shop,” Darcy says in her very best approximation of a chirpy voice. “Let me know if I can help you find anything.”

“Thanks,” rumbles the man as he pulls a book off the shelf. The muscles in his shoulders, beneath the cotton of his henley shirt ripple.

“What a beautiful cat,” says the woman. “What breed is she?”

“He’s a rescue. The nearest we can guess is some sort of farm cat...mixed with a cross eyed demon,” Darcy says slipping behind the counter. Aldis hisses deep in his throat and Darcy blows the familiar a kiss. “You can pet him if you like. His name is Aldis and he’s very friendly.”

“Who’s a handsome boy,” the woman says stroking her hand through Aldis’s thick fur.

“Ma, please,” the man says under his breath. There is a pained look on his face as he turns to meet Darcy’s gaze. He winks at Darcy and her lips twitch up into a genuine smile shattering the mask of customer service zombie.

“Hush, Steven,” says the woman, diligently scratching beneath the familiar’s ears.

(Finally) back on the Darcyland rabbit hole!

§  Pairing with Bucky Barnes and/or Steve Rogers (Wintershock or Wintershieldshock)

§  Is mainly a plants & potions witch but knows a lot of offensive and defensive attacks and wards spells for protection

§  The only people who know: Jane, Thor, Valkyrie, Sam (long story) and Pepper (even longer story)

§  Brews little pick-me-ups for the Avengers because she can Help and it’s a good way for her to practice her magic

§  Her pet (familiar) owl is always with her, especially after all the shit that went down post-civil war.

§  Cut her hair

I’ve been so aesthetically blocked, lately, I took some time out to do the music meme. (Which involves setting your music player of choice on shuffle and writing something for each song that plays. When the music stops, you stop writing.) 

I cleaned this up a bit, but this is about what came out.

____________

Know when to fold 'em

Know when to walk away

And know when to run

- The Gambler – Kenny Rogers

“Raise,” Darcy said.

A collective cry rose from the table as Sam and Clint folded.

“Call. If I didn’t know better, Sparks, I’d say you were reading minds.”

“Damn it, Jim, I’m a witch, not a mind reader.”

Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow and laid out his hand. “Four of a kind.”

“Nice. But it doesn’t beat a flush. Royal.”

Tony swore, tossed his cards onto the table. “That’s the sixth time you’ve won. Sure you’re not working some voodoo on our minds?”

Nixie’s Poly AU Challenge: Day Eight, Darcy x Thor x Jane - Medieval Fantasy AU.

“And what is a great warrior, such as you, doing so deep in the heart of the forest of old?”

Thor halted his horse in its trot, his eyes flickering around in an attempt to find the source of the breathy voice speaking in such a playful tone. 

“I am Thor, son of the Great King Odin, and I seek the help of the great sorceress of the forest.” He tightened his grip on the reigns of his stallion in an attempt to keep himself in check.

“And what could you possibly need of us?”

Thor felt a chill crawl across the back of his neck at the raspier, silkier voice crooned.