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Title: The Horrible Hawkeye Essay
Fandom: Hawkeye
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Pairings: None
Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Kate Bishop
Word Count: 364
Summary: Clint whines. Natasha makes him do it anyway.
Author’s Notes: I had an open prompt night on my Tumblr and I’m archiving some of the stories here. The prompt was to write any of my characters having difficulty with a writing assignment. This is what happened.

“Not doing it.” Clint Barton propped his boots on the table and bared his teeth—one of which had a piece of spinach in it from dinner, Natasha noted—in a less than formidable show of obstinacy. “I’m not in school, I got my GED. That was good enough for the military, should be good enough for SHIELD.”

“You know Coulson will give you the look if you don’t complete it,” Natasha said, giving her partner a look that told him, accurately, that she thought he was being an idiot. It was a five-hundred word essay. Their field reports were longer than that.

“I shoot things. I don’t write things.”

“Trust me, your handwriting alone would tell anybody that,” Kate, who’d been balancing one of her new trick arrows on a fingertip, muttered.

Though Natasha grinned, Clint glared at his protégé. “Who asked you?”

“Nobody needed to. Avenger, remember?”

“Just write the damn essay, Barton.”

“Why does Coulson even need to know about things like childhood pets? Mine were elephants because of the circus. That’s not that interesting. ‘When I was nine, my pet was Bobo the elephant. He was big and gray. I liked him but he smacked me with his trunk. The end.’”

“Wow,” Kate said, looking at Natasha. “I was whiffing on the essay bit myself, but I totally get the psychological ramifications of writing this now. Go Coulson.”

“Traitor,” Clint said.

Natasha shook her head, which was beginning to ache, and rose to her feet. “Coulson wants it on his desk by five,” she said, pointing a finger at Clint as she headed for the door. “And I’ve bribed Bishop here with something bigger than you’ll be able to afford not to write it for you.”

Clint’s look of aggrieved betrayal belonged on her Instagram, Natasha decided, but she magnanimously did not snap a picture of her partner. “What gives?” he asked, whirling on Kate. “What could she possibly give you that’s a better bribe than my mentorship and guidance?”

Kate popped her gum and twirled the trick arrow around her finger, looking smug.

“Oh,” Clint said, sagging a little.

“By five,” Natasha said, and headed for the shooting range.

Title: The Magic of Tumblr
Fandom: Captain Marvel
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Pairings: Carol/Jess
Characters: Carol Danvers, Jessica Drew, Natasha Romanoff
Word Count: 281
Summary: Carol and Jess introduce Natasha to something very, very complicated.

“And you just…sit here for hours looking at the pictures,” Natasha said, squinting at the screen.

“Well, they refresh,” Carol felt the need to point out.

“And there’s usually something funny buried in there. Plus, you can send people asks—anonymously—and annoy them.”

“That was you?” Carol asked, giving Jessica a scathing look.

The Brit looked unapologetic. “Who else is going to send you fourteen asks about bathing products?”

“Tony Stark.”

“Okay, point, but—”

“Clint Barton.”

“Yes, him, too.”

“Deadpool. Peter Parker. Logan—”

“We have very interesting men in our lives,” Natasha said, interrupting before Carol could list out all of their acquaintances, which Natasha felt would probably also be correct. “But I do have to ask. What is the point of this website?”

Carol and Jessica exchanged a long, surprised look. “You know,” the brunette said at length, “I’ve never really thought about it.”

Carol frowned and leaned around Natasha to refresh the screen. A new post popped up from Peter Parker’s tumblr, that of Steve Rogers, in full cowl and gear, feeding bread crumbs to baby ducks from his hands. “Aww,” Jessica said.

The screen refreshed again: a new post, again of Steve in the same spot the baby ducks picture had been taken, but clearly a car had driven by, splashing Captain America liberally with mud and sloppy street water so that it dripped unappealingly from his cowl while he glared at the camera. The look on his face alone was enough to have Jessica and Carol on the floor, clutching their bellies and laughing.

“Hmm,” Natasha said. “I think I may get it now. How do you sign up for one of these, again?”

Title: Girls’ Night
Fandom: Chuck, The Avengers
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Pairings: None
Characters: Carina Miller, Jane Foster, Sarah Walker, Lady Sif
Word Count: 340
Summary: Four very unlikely friends meet up for a girls’ night. It probably won’t end well.

Carina eyed the mixture—a dirndl, flannel, and chainmail—and decided that maybe it was better she’d decided not to dress up for the festivities. “Well, I don’t suppose I’ve been with a weirder party,” she finally said at length.

Sarah glared. “You didn’t give me time to change.”

“Girls’ nights mostly just involve drinking tequila on the roof,” Jane said, crossing her arms over her chest. She was probably missing the geek with glasses that followed her around like a shadow, making sure she got things like food and extra paper for her notebook. In the week Carina had spent guarding Jane Foster, she’d discovered in the geek a powerful ally—only said geek was now on a date, leaving the four of them to fend for themselves.

The fourth member, by far the tallest and somehow noble in her chainmail and armor, frowned. “Is this not a feast we celebrate tonight? I wore my finest helm.” She tapped the silver at her brow. “Was I not supposed to do that?”

She looked very concerned. Carina, Jane, and Sarah exchanged looks. “I think it’s great,” Jane said in a rush.

“Fantastic,” Sarah agreed.

“The sword is badass.” Carina didn’t even have to lie to get that one out. The sword was frickin’ awesome.

“Excellent.” Lady Sif looked pleased. “So, where is this mighty feast? I will have much to tell my shieldbrothers, come morning.”

“Actually,” and Carina looped an arm through the Asgardian’s, rather pleased she’d suggested this, “with the amount of alcohol I intend for us to imbibe tonight, I don’t think you will.”

“A challenge! I look forward to meeting it, Midgardian. Did I ever tell you about the time I fought the Lyngbakr—and won? Oh, the mead that flowed that night…”

“Lyngbakr?” Carina heard Sarah ask Jane.

Jane shrugged. “She’s kidding about the amount of alcohol, isn’t she? I have equations to run in the morning.”

“No, and she’s also very persuasive. Might as well give in and drink, Dr. Foster.”

“God help us all.”

Title: The Rocketeerman
Fandom: The Avengers, The Rocketeer
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Pairings: None
Characters: Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Cliff Secord
Word Count: 434
Summary: Natasha is captured by Loki. Cliff is about to die saving her. Tony Stark is not helping.
Author’s Notes: I think somebody typo’d, but I’m an awful person that couldn’t resist.

“I don’t get it, Arrowhead,” Tony said as Clint flicked open his fletching blade and set to fixing one of the arrows in the second carousel in his quiver. “When Horny Toad had you under his magical woo-woo spell, Red over there was pretty much ready to break buildings apart with her bare hands. And now we find the situation reversed, and you sit here at your leisure.”

Clint sighted down the arrow. Satisfied, he set it in its spot and picked up the next. “One big difference between Natasha and me, Stark.”

“Your suit shows more skin?”

“That, too. But unlike me, Natasha is able to take care of herself.”

“And you’re…not.”

“I drink milk way past its sell-by date.”

“Ew. That’s not something to be proud of, man.”

“That’s the least dangerous thing I do. SHIELD has a pool going on the next big way I’ll injure myself. I’ve managed to come up with more creative and clever ways than they know so that the pool money never goes out to anybody. And one of those bets involves chainsaws and sharks.”

“But she’s still your partner, is she not? Shouldn’t you at least be trying to help her out?”

“Cliff’s on it.”

“Who the hell is—”

Before Tony could finish his question, though, both men looked up as a contained explosion to their left blew a hole in the wall and two figures tumbled through. The first was Natasha, who immediately rose gracefully to her feet and dusted off the sleeves of her catsuit. The second was a man in a smart leather jacket and khaki jodhpurs, with spotless brown boots that rose all the way up his calves. Tony couldn’t decide if the more impressive thing about him was the streamlined gold helm—with the rather large dent in it—he wore or the rocket pack strapped to his back, but either way: “Seriously?”

“Thanks for the rescue, Cliff,” Natasha said, saluting the man with the jetpack.

“I thought jetpacks and flying with stylized helmets was my thing,” Tony said, feeling offense rise in every atom even as his fingers itched to get a look at Cliff’s rocket pack.

Cliff ignored him. “Barton,” he said, nodding at Clint.

“Secord,” Clint returned, giving him the same salute Natasha had.

“Till next time, Miss Romanoff?”

“I look forward to it.”

And with a gust of flame and the smell of jet-fuel, Cliff Secord flew away.

“Who the hell was that?” Tony asked.

“Missed you, too, Tony,” Natasha said, and patting him on the shoulder, walked past him to head for the refrigerator.

September 2013

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