be_compromised | Promptathon 2014

That's brilliant! You should write it :P

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2226066 = working A03 link (from promptathon master list post) :)

Ugh, I'm a mess! Thank you!

I'm just going to blame my phone.

(That anyone managed to actually find the right fic is a mystery to me.)

Edited 2014-08-31 14:36 (UTC)

No worries :)

And I thoroughly believe the fandom hivemind can find any fic when challenged to *grins*.

Thank you! It was a lot of fun to write, and I found myself snickering a lot too!

Ohh, I love angst, much more than fluff or the like actually, it's the miscarriage stuff that isn't up my alley. XD I'm generally not into topics like pregnancy and proposals and all that. Angst is perfectly fine tho. I LOVE ANGST.

And hey, heartbreak is my favorite. That wasn't a complaint. ;)

It's like I adore angst, but I hate every time I give in and read deathfic. It's just tooo much for me. I wish I never gave in regardless of the author (it's the author name that will tempt me).

If I do come back to my original fic idea for the prompt, I'll be sure to gift it to you. I'm just not sure if I can wrangle that one.

Ahaha, I love deathfic. I've been known to off a main character now and then myself. XD But yeah, we've all got our preferences and our no-gos, eh?

Ohh, tell me about it? :D But no worries. I'm happy to have seen you had a go with the prompt regardless, and there's others who enjoyed it, right? So. All good. :)

It's a path paved with temptation that was from time to time impossible for me to resist, but I put up a mostly valiant effort!

I'm looking over the snippet and now that I've dumped in another idea, I don't remember which of the two options I'd settled on, but it was either early SHIELD (still Clint telling Natasha) or post-HYDRA (again Clint telling Natasha). Apparently my brain didn't go in the direction of Natasha telling Clint. Now want to go explore that...

But not today because I'm neck-deep into "Falcon whose name is death" and if I can finish that, I want to.

Yes. That is totally what I meant. Once I realized I dive into total angst, I had to realize that everyone has different places they draw the line, different squicks, different loves. I have an original fic buddy where she does murder and no sex and I'll do sex but no graphic violence, gore, or murder, and we both will allow characters to swear, but I'll censor it and she won't.

Both options are great, GOOD LUCK!! *\o/*

Yep. Especially in that regard, and the further it goes, the more divided it becomes, and the more careful one has to be with triggers and tagging. I fall to the more, uhh, extreme end of the scale. Horror, gore, extreme hurt, all still up my alley. Porn too, kinky even. But fluffy domestic fic? Yeah, that's the territory where *I* need to trust the writer. XD

FIC: Good Morning, New York! (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2233416)

Prompts:

scribble_myname's “JARVIS is a total shipper and tries to get Clint and Natasha together” plus

happilydancing's “Clint and Nat being interviewed by Oprah or someone on TV”, as modified by

hufflepuffsneak with “I don't know if I want to write them being interviewed by someone awesome (like Ellen), or someone not awesome, who they stare down and mess with.” >

“Five minutes to cameras rolling. You look fabulous, you two. Just gorgeous.”

The hostess’ words are probably meant to be reassuring, but Clint is clearly not buying.

“Yeah? Then why’d you try and put eyeliner on me? That face make-up was bad enough. I’m gonna have to scrape that shit off with a spatula.”

The woman bats her lashes at him in a way that makes Natasha want to reach for her bracelets.

“But you have such gorgeous eyes, Mr. Barton. Such a gorgeous colour. It’s a shame not to emphasize your best asset.”

The inarticulate noise Clint makes in response falls somewhere between What Did I Just Step In? and Hulk meets Loki. Natasha, for her part, wonders just how the woman managed to miss Clint’s arms. No matter. She puts her hand on her partner’s shoulder.

“Clint. Relax.”

“I am relaxed. You should see me when I’m tense.”

Of course Natasha has -- rather often actually -- but arguing the point would be counter-productive. Clint has spared no one (including the hapless guy tasked with trying to keep his hair from sticking up) his opinion about being strong-armed into playing nice in front of a camera.

“The Mandarin incident and the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. have given both the Avengers Initiative and Stark Industries a bad name. The brand needs to be repositioned in a more positive light,” Pepper’s e-mail had said. “We need you to help us out a little. And no, Clint, PR is not short for prostitution.”

Hill’s message had been just as direct.

“This is a prophylactic effort,” it had said, “to help people overlook the damage you lot will doubtless cause the next time there’s trouble. Consider this a service to humanity. Hard as it might be for be for anyone to see you in that light, Barton.”

Clint, who prefers short, Fury-type explanations (“he needs killing”) had stopped reading halfway through.

“Yeah, and you know where Hill can stick that prophylactic of hers?”

But, free rent is free rent, the (former) boss is still kind of the boss, and so here they are, an hour later, Clint still sputtering.

Read more on AO3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2233416)

Edited 2014-08-31 23:21 (UTC)

FIC: Good Morning, New York! (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2233416)

Prompts:

scribble_myname's “JARVIS is a total shipper and tries to get Clint and Natasha together” plus

happilydancing's “Clint and Nat being interviewed by Oprah or someone on TV”, as modified by

hufflepuffsneak with “I don't know if I want to write them being interviewed by someone awesome (like Ellen), or someone not awesome, who they stare down and mess with.” >

FIC: Good Morning, New York! (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2233416)

Prompts:

scribble_myname's “JARVIS is a total shipper and tries to get Clint and Natasha together” plus

happilydancing's “Clint and Nat being interviewed by Oprah or someone on TV”, as modified by

hufflepuffsneak with “I don't know if I want to write them being interviewed by someone awesome (like Ellen), or someone not awesome, who they stare down and mess with.” >

“Five minutes to cameras rolling. You look fabulous, you two. Just gorgeous.”

The hostess’ words are probably meant to be reassuring, but Clint is clearly not buying.

“Yeah? Then why’d you try and put eyeliner on me? That face make-up was bad enough. I’m gonna have to scrape that shit off with a spatula.”

The woman bats her lashes at him in a way that makes Natasha want to reach for her bracelets.

“But you have such gorgeous eyes, Mr. Barton. Such a gorgeous colour. It’s a shame not to emphasize your best asset.”

The inarticulate noise Clint makes in response falls somewhere between What Did I Just Step In? and Hulk meets Loki. Natasha, for her part, wonders just how the woman managed to miss Clint’s arms. No matter. She puts her hand on her partner’s shoulder.

“Clint. Relax.”

“I am relaxed. You should see me when I’m tense.”

Of course Natasha has -- rather often actually -- but arguing the point would be counter-productive. Clint has spared no one (including the hapless guy tasked with trying to keep his hair from sticking up) his opinion about being strong-armed into playing nice in front of a camera.

“The Mandarin incident and the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. have given both the Avengers Initiative and Stark Industries a bad name. The brand needs to be repositioned in a more positive light,” Pepper’s e-mail had said. “We need you to help us out a little. And no, Clint, PR is not short for prostitution.”

Hill’s message had been just as direct.

“This is a prophylactic effort,” it had said, “to help people overlook the damage you lot will doubtless cause the next time there’s trouble. Consider this a service to humanity. Hard as it might be for be for anyone to see you in that light, Barton.”

Clint, who prefers short, Fury-type explanations (“he needs killing”) had stopped reading halfway through.

“Yeah, and you know where Hill can stick that prophylactic of hers?”

But, free rent is free rent, the (former) boss is still kind of the boss, and so here they are, an hour later, Clint still sputtering.

Read more on AO3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/2233416)

Edited 2014-08-31 23:20 (UTC)

I know the deadline is winding down fast here, but can I change the prompt I accepted originally? Can it be posted if the idea hasn't already been taken in the master list?

If you changed your mind about which prompt to write for, that's fine. There are no limits to how many fics can be written for each prompt.

Heads up, I'll be closing the promptathon at midnight New York time.

OMG THESE TWO. The trolliest that have ever trolled! And JARVIS!! If you could squish an AI for being adorable, I totally would.

Oh, I do like this and hope more comes along...

I would be more than happy if someone else picked it up.

Natasha walked into Avengers tower and instantly felt a weight lift off of her chest. Clint was here. He was home and safe. But then suddenly she felt anger begin to form. He was here. She had been dealing with all this Hydra shit and here he was fast asleep on the couch.

She picked up a pillow from under his feet and threw it at him.

Clint bolted up and off the couch.

"Come with me, you said!” Natasha yelled, “Work for the good guys, you said! Clear some red from your ledger, you said!"

“The fuck?” Clint asked, unsure of what was happening.

“Where the hell have you been these last few days?”

“Afghanistan,” He told her, the unsaid ‘duh’ obvious in his voice.

She paused trying to read his face. “So you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Sit back down,” Natasha told him and then proceeded to tell him about the events of the last few days.

“Hydra?”

“Hydra.”

“Fuck.” Clint draws out the u as he leaned back and ran his hands over his face. “Nat, if I had known…”

“Don’t.” She leaned over and laid her head down on his shoulder. “I handled it.”

And as they sat there in silence for the next few minutes, her head on his shoulder and his hand running through her hair. They were together again, and they were ready for whatever the world would throw at them next.

Jarvis’s dry voice came over the intercom in the kitchen as Natasha flicked through her copy of Vogue.

“Ms. Romanoff, Mr. Barton has requested your presence on the balcony to your rooms.”

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Natasha said.

It was odd of Clint to use the A.I. as a messenger, instead of coming himself, but she had learned long ago to never underestimate his laziness.

She padded to the balcony, still dressed in yoga pants and a singlet from her morning workout. Clint was waiting for her, shirtless in purple pajama pants. He was sitting at the cast iron table, half-asleep with a coffee mug in his hands.

“What was so important?” he asked, yawning.

The door clicked as it locked behind her.

“Jarvis said you wanted to see me,” Natasha replied.

She looked up suspiciously at the balcony camera. Either someone had hacked into the A.I., or it was malfunctioning.

“I apologize for the deception, but I believe you need to talk. I will not open the door until you do so,” Jarvis told them.

Natasha grit her teeth. Come to Avengers Tower, Stark had said. You will be safe there, he said. I even have a robot butler, he said. She knew she should have gotten her own apartment.

“You know we can both scale the building,” Clint told the A.I.

He didn’t appear at all irritated, but that might have been because he hadn’t woken up yet.

“I wouldn’t advise it. We have security measures in place,” Jarvis replied pleasantly.

Natasha was getting flashbacks to watching 2001: A Space Odyssey.

“Look, is this about the peanut butter? We fight about stuff like that all the time. It doesn’t mean anything,” Clint said, voice still thick from sleep.

“No, Mr. Barton, this isn’t about the peanut butter. Although Ms. Romanoff was right, you should have offered to dry clean her blouse.”

Clint shrugged and went back to drinking his coffee.

“Don’t try to get on my good side, Jarvis. I have tickets to a matinee of Book of Mormon. Do you know how hard it is to get tickets to Book of Mormon?” Natasha yelled.

Jarvis didn’t respond.

“Who are you going with?” Clint asked.

Natasha looked at him in surprise. Surely he wasn’t going along with the A.I.’s schemes?

She considered it for a moment. Better just to play along. If they got this over with soon, she could still shower and change before she needed to leave for the musical.

“I’m going with Steve. I’m trying to introduce him to twenty-first century culture that isn’t eighties rock bands and cowboy movies.”

Why did Clint care? It wasn’t like he had agreed to go with her the second time she had invited him to the ballet, or the first time she had invited him to go to the opera. It was no wonder she’d stopped asking.

“Eighties rock bands and cowboy movies are more relevant than theatre,” Clint said, obviously stung. “You’re not teaching him twenty-first century culture, you’re teaching him how to be a twenty-first century snob.”

Natasha crossed her arms, and looked into the balcony camera.

“Great. We’ve talked. Can I go now?” she asked the no-doubt watching A.I.

She received no response, and the door stayed locked.

“Look, Tash, I’m sorry. I need another mug of coffee before I’m human,” Clint said.

He inspected his mug, looking for any dregs that might remain.

“It’s fine Clint, I already knew you don’t like theatre. Or the ballet, or the opera.”

He held the mug upside down, and not a drop of coffee fell out. Clint set the mug down and got up from the table to stand close to her. His body blocked the camera from her view.

“Tash,” Clint started. “Going to the ballet with you is intimidating. You know all the names of the dances, and you make comments under your breath about form imperfections that I don’t even understand, let alone see. Sorry if I prefer spending my downtime relaxing in front of a television screen.”

“See? That’s why I didn’t invite you to Book of Mormon,” Natasha said.

“It still would have been nice if you’d asked,” Clint said.

“Fine. Next time I will.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

Promptathon 2014

Re: Fic: untitled, G, no warnings

AO3 Link Re: FIC: Dance History 10, rated T, no warnings

Re: AO3 Link Re: FIC: Dance History 10, rated T, no warnings

Re: AO3 Link Re: FIC: Dance History 10, rated T, no warnings

Re: FIC: The Map (rated G, no warnings)

Re: FIC: Remind Me How to Breathe (T, choose not to warn)

Re: FIC: Remind Me How to Breathe (T, choose not to warn)

Re: FIC: Remind Me How to Breathe (T, choose not to warn)

Re: FIC: Remind Me How to Breathe (T, choose not to warn)

Re: FIC: Remind Me How to Breathe (T, choose not to warn)

Re: Fic: 5 times an undergrad found out Professors Barton and Romanoff were married to each other, P

Re: FIC: Remind Me How to Breathe (T, choose not to warn)

Re: FIC: Remind Me How to Breathe (T, choose not to warn)

Re: FIC: Remind Me How to Breathe (T, choose not to warn)

Re: FIC: Remind Me How to Breathe (T, choose not to warn)

FIC: Good Morning, New York!

FIC: Good Morning, New York

FIC: Good Morning, New York!

prompt acceptance change?

Re: prompt acceptance change?

Re: FIC: Good Morning, New York!

Re: Fic: untitled, G, no warnings

Re: Fic: untitled, G, no warnings

FIC: our bedroom after the war (Teen, no warnings)

Fic: untitled, G, no warnings 1/2