bakerstreet | Jingle bells, Batman smells

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Jingle bells, Batman smells—!

Happy Holidays Meme

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Wherever your character is, whatever their feelings on the plethora of holidays found in December, they're bound to be caught up in the festivities. It's up to you what kind of holiday they'll experience! (Feel free to exchange Christmas for whatever holiday your character celebrates.)

Directions
1. Comment with your character, series, preferences, etc.
2. Roll a number between 1-17 (gen) or 1-4 (smut) for a prompt.
3. Reply to others and play out the scenario!

Gen Prompts
1. Tree Shopping — There's nothing like a freshly cut tree at Christmas. Do you go out into the woods to find one yourself, or do you stroll through a lot while it's snowing, looking for the perfect tree?

2. Ice Skating — Do you skate at rink or out on a frozen pond? Have you ever skated before? ~~How many times do you fall?~~

3. Pinterest Fails — You're set on making your own gifts this year, so you try out some adorable Pinterest ideas... And fail miserably. How do you salvage Christmas?

4. Secret Santa — The names have been drawn and now you're tasked with finding the right gift for someone who you may hardly know. Is it easy, or do you have to do some reconnaissance before making your decision?

5. Christmas Market — There are stalls of handcrafts and delicious goodies lining the streets, with crowds of people out walking in the snow and drinking mulled wine.

6. Decorating the Tree — How will the two of you decorate the tree? Do you spend a half hour untangling the twinkle lights, make popcorn strings while listening to carols, argue over who gets to put the star on top?

7. Road Trip — The snacks are packed and you’re ready to go to grandma’s house. But what happens when you lose GPS signal and get lost in the middle of nowhere or the car breaks down?

8. Stuck in the Airport — You’re snowed in and the hotels are full of fellow delayed passengers. Why don’t they make these chairs more comfortable for sleeping in?

9. Avoiding the Family — You’re obligated to go home for the holiday, but there’s only so much you can take of your family. Go for a walk, stop by the bar, whatever it takes for a little peace and quiet - and meet someone along the way.

10. Christmas Party — Are you hosting the event, or just bringing an extra bottle of wine? Is it a work function? How many glasses of spiked eggnog have you had?

11. Baking Shenanigans — How long does it take for the two of you to destroy the kitchen, either with forgetting to put the lid on the blender or simply starting a food fight?

12. Burned the Turkey — Well, the main course is a little blackened. Time for Chinese food, or is it pizza this year?

13. Mistletoe — The little sprig of green strikes again! Are you the one stuck under it, or the lucky finder ready to claim your prize?

14. Last Minute Shopping — Are you out fighting the crowds for the best deals? Or are you behind one of the counters, stuck in the annual retail holiday hell?

16. Turbo Man — You have one last thing on your shopping list, but it's the hottest of the season and everywhere is sold out. There's only one left — but they've spotted it too! Who will walk away victorious?

17. Taking in a Show — Who doesn't love going to the theater during the holiday season? The shows always seem a little more magical this time of year, and that new musical sounds like just what you need to get in the spirit.

18. Write-in Option — Is there something we missed? Is there another scenario you want to play out? Go for it!

Smut Prompts
1. Present Under the Tree — You've wrapped yourself up and are waiting for that special someone.

2. Sneaking Away at a Party — No, you can't wait until you get home or the guests leave, you need them now.

3. Keeping Warm During a Snowstorm — The power's gone out and you have to stay warm somehow...

4. Baking Surprise — How on earth did you get chocolate there? Oh well, can't let it go to waste!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[ Walking through the streets of New York with Bucky is... really nice, actually. Not once does she feel any sort of pressure to make small talk or put forth any sort of performance like she does with some of the other agents or even her friends. Despite the thrill of nerves in her stomach at the idea of getting to spend more one-on-one time with this man, Daisy doesn't feel like he has any expectations of her.

(How her traitorous brain hasn't latched onto this situation and twisted it beyond recognition yet is a mystery, to be honest, but she's not going to question the good fortune of not being overwhelmed by her own neuroses yet.)

His choice for the evening has her smiling even before they step inside, and she has to hold back a laugh as he gives his endorsement of the place. It really does look like the stereotypical Irish pub, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. ]

Well, it's a good thing I'm starving, then. I couldn't possibly pass up curly fries. [ It's 100% the truth but she's also teasing him a little. ] And a beer sounds amazing. Not sure about the shot, but hey, we already established that I need to live a little more dangerously, right?

Just a bit. And appropriate, 'cause I dunno what the liquor actually is, besides sometimes sweet as hell. A shot of what? No clue.

[ It turns out that Bucky, even if he's a quiet barfly, is still something of a regular, as they enter and settle in at some bar stools in the back. The bartender recognises him and says hello, and a chatty Irish waitress comes over, cheerfully schmoozes them both, deposits a pub menu in front of them. Bucky's already shoved his stool back against the wall, to where he can get a good view of the exits (some habits don't die), but where he can also survey Daisy over the beer-sticky table. ]

So. How about a pint, a shot, and your story about space?

[ Oh yeah, she can definitely tell that he comes here with decent frequency. The bartender knows him and the waitress seems to as well, but more than that, he seems comfortable here. Sure, he still scopes out the exits, but she does the same before settling onto her own stool. (She trusts him to have her back, so she doesn't fight him for the spot against the wall.)

Daisy can't help the laugh that bubbles up at his proposal. Leaning her still jacket-clad arms against that sticky tabletop, she shakes her head in good-natured bemusement. ]

You really want to hear that story, don't you? [ But she just grins and nods her agreement. ] Okay, Barnes, you've got a deal. But I have to warn you, it's kind of a crazy one.

You're talking to a man who was officially declared K.I.A. during World War II but who's still walking around and talking today. So, I'm all in for crazy.

[ The waitress comes back, and they put in their orders for their own beers plus the curly fries to split, and she deposits the two shot glasses in front of them. The drinks are— dark murky greenish? maybe? it's hard to tell what's even in the glasses except that it smells cloyingly sweet, and Bucky shoots an I told you so look at her, before taking one glass. ]

Bottoms up, Johnson.

[ He slams it back. It tastes like very, very boozy juice; it's strong, whatever it is, but sweet enough that it goes down smooth. Maybe it'll help grease up Daisy's storytelling wheels, too. ]

[ Hearing Bucky talk about his life and the level of crazy that is his reality reminds Daisy of how much they have in common. Too much, she thinks sometimes, but also maybe enough to... Well. Better not to get ahead of herself.

But he is in for a wild ride with her story. ]

If this kills me, I'm absolutely haunting your ass.

[ She tips the shot back enough to get a brief taste and, when it's not utter poison, tips it the rest of the way before she can have second thoughts. It is definitely strong and she can't hide the comical grimace at how sweet it is, but she survives it mostly intact. So... a win? ]

Oh wow, that was... Yep. [ She clears her throat and swallows thickly, trying (and failing) to get the taste out of her mouth. Hopefully, the waitress returns with their beers soon and saves her from this terrible fate. ]

Okay, so space. I can't actually start with the space story, I have to start with the part where we were kidnapped and sent into the post-apocalyptic future where the Earth was kinda torn apart and what was left of humanity was enslaved by the Kree. [ And all of it said with a completely straight face. ]

[ It's still just the prelude, the prologue, when the waitress drops off their beers and Bucky lets it sit a few extra moments while he stares at Daisy, trying to take in that starter. If she weren't an agent of SHIELD, he'd suspect her of pulling his leg. But his life is full of batshit insanity and he knows time travel is possible — it's how he's back in the world of the living, after all — and his own best friend vanished into the past. Still, he has to repeat it: ]

Time travel. You went to the future? You literally got sent to the future?

[ He sounds baffled, but not disbelieving. He does reach for the beer and take a deep swig, though. He might need more than a few drinks by the time this is done. ]

[ Oh, he's definitely gonna need a few more drinks. And she might need a few more than that. ]

About 70 years into the future by a goddamn alien monolith. I hate those things. [ He might have absolutely no idea what she's talking about but there's no missing the very tired irritation of someone for whom this is a chronic problem. ]

Anyway, it wasn't all of us who were sent there — Fitz was left behind. I've mentioned him before, he's married to my best friend, Jemma. They retired a few years ago but still work with us on a consulting basis.

[ Taking a sip of her beer, she reaches up to tuck her hair back behind her ear. ] So, since Fitz wasn't with us, he took the long way to get to the future and spent the time in cryo. He showed up, convinced the guy in charge I should fight to the death in their messed up Inhuman gladiator ring (that's a whole other story), we all almost died a few times, and eventually, we got back to our own time and stopped the horrible, very bad future.

[ There's a lot more to how they stopped it and why it needed to be stopped at all. Like her supposedly being the Destroyer of Worlds, or how they'd had to let Coulson die to finally stop the time loop. But she'd much rather focus on every other part of the story than those. ]

Seventy years in cryo. Sounds familiar. But, so... your friend Fitz can't be in cryo any longer today, right? But him not staying in cryo didn't like, undo and reset everything? Like the grandfather paradox.

[ Time travel is a fucking headache. Bucky's squinting at her with a furrow in his brow as he tries to parse the details, and then keeps drinking. Maybe he has to ask the wizard about how it all works sometime. ]

Also, you can't just throw in a line like "messed up Inhuman gladiator ring" and not elaborate on that particular grenade, Johnson. [ He hesitates: elbows propped against the edge of the table, gloved hands curled around his pint of beer, the glass sweating with condensation. The tone of the retelling is like it's a wild tale, swapping war stories, but he himself knows how delicate that line can be. The way the Howling Commandos and the other soldiers would puff themselves up, try to make the stories sound grandiose and courageous and not at all like the terrified, fucked-up missions they'd actually been. It was a way of coping. Smoothing over the worse details, polishing it to a smooth — or at least palatable — shine. ]

Unless you don't want to get into it.

[ That hesitation speaks louder than anything else could. He knows, it's clear as day. Maybe not what she has to say but certainly the weight behind whatever it might be. And of course, he does — it would be like her asking him about what happened after he was free from HYDRA. Both of them could pretend that they're fine but deep down... sometimes they really aren't.

But maybe it's better he knows he's not alone in the fucked up backstory club. ]

No, it's uhm... It's not...

[ She's suddenly wishing this were a diner, that there were containers with sugar packets on every table so she could grab a few, but they're not at a diner and she'll have to manage without her usual coping mechanism. Pressing the fingertips of one hand to her mouth for a moment, she savors the feeling of the cold drops of condensation that smear across her lips. ]

They sold Inhumans as slaves. Fighters. They were entertainment for whatever rich alien bought them. [ If only she could just leave it at that. She really wishes she could, but she knows so much of his story already that it doesn't feel fair to keep hers from him. But she does take a large swallow of beer before continuing. ] I was going to fetch the highest price... because they believed I was the one who ripped the Earth apart. I was the Destroyer of Worlds.

[ Oh. Well.

There's so many angles here, and Bucky finds himself going still and careful, like stepping out onto a frozen lake, mindful to not step on a hairline fracture which might splinter into a crack which might rip the ground right open beneath them. Alien gladiator rings— Thor and Banner had mentioned something like that once. The Grandmaster on Sakaar. It had sounded lighter than this, though: an actual riproaring tale of galactic adventure and derring-do, before it all went so wrong. Daisy's... seems different.

And something feels horrifically rude about simply asking, Were you? The Destroyer of Worlds?

So Bucky swallows that question. Asks something else instead: solemn, his expression thoughtful and attentive. Gathering details, as is his habit. He'll circle back to that sold as a slave thing in a few. ]

What made them think that?

[ Of all the things he could have said, she appreciates that he chooses that particular question to ask. He doesn't seem to be assuming the worst, nor is he prying at still open wounds. She can't blame him for wanting to know more and she isn't going to let the question go unanswered. ]

There was evidence that I was involved, and when you consider my abilities... [ A shiver runs through her and she shifts in her seat to try to cover it up. She's not actually cold, the room is a perfectly reasonable temperature, it's the psychological stress convincing her body. It happens all the time now, ever since the last battle with the Chronicoms, but she's absolutely not ready to tell him about this particular part of her traumatic baggage. ]

I believed it. I believed it so strongly that I was ready to stay behind when my team came home, just to make sure history couldn't repeat itself. [ She shrugs one shoulder and takes another sip of her drink. ] Obviously that didn't happen, though.

Hey, don't forget: you're not the only person out there with powers. And time travel is above my paygrade, but don't you figure that even if — say, if — it was an actual risk, then just knowing about that possible future means you're prepared to prevent it from happening in present-day? Knowing is half the battle, and whatever.

[ It's an attempt at consoling her in whatever way he can, before he takes a beat to take another sip of his drink. God, time travel makes his head ache. But Bucky then adds, slowly, still trying to wrap his head around it, with an eyebrow half-arched as he focuses on the positive: ]

So, technically, you saved our entire planet from being torn apart and all of humanity being enslaved by aliens?

[ Knowing is half the battle. She can see feel that churn of emotions as she argued with Coulson, so certain she was doing the right thing by insisting she be left behind. And then she remembers the absolute terror when Fitz had removed the blocker and they'd all slid closer to the future coming true. ]

Yeah, technically, I did. [ By letting Coulson die. But she can't think about that right now, nor is she ready to tell Bucky about all of that, so she barrels onward. ] But uh, back to the point of this story. Months passed in between us going to the future and saving the world, so when Fitz died during the final battle... Well, one version of him was dead. The Fitz who slept for seventy years, who came back with us to the past, who married Jemma. But the Fitz who was in cryo was out there somewhere in space still. So we went to find him.

[ He's completely absorbed in the story as it unfurls, fixed on the details even as Daisy hop-skip-jumps to the next part — and he gets that, too. There's entire decades that he'd like to fast forward through his own life story. Shaking his head, he murmurs, ]

And here I thought me meeting one space raccoon and one talking tree was special. I've really got to re-evaluate my standards.

Go on.

Hey, I have yet to meet a space raccoon or a talking tree, so you've got that on me.

[ She takes another big swallow of her beer, the glass getting to the half-empty point already. It's just that kind of story, her life story. ] Anyway, it took about a year for us to track him down. We had to find the ship, which wasn't easy when there's a whole lot of space out there and we didn't even have a place to start. And when we did find the ship, it was empty. And in pieces.

Something had happened and Enoch — he was a Chronicom, which is basically an alien robot species — Enoch woke Fitz up and they were trying to find a way to get him back to sleep safely because they had no idea we'd fixed everything. We finally tracked them down in the casinos on Kitson while Jemma and I were stoned on space snacks.

[ Her life really does sound insane, doesn't it? This is why doesn't date. Who in this messed up world would possibly be willing to have a drink with her and listen to these completely insane stories without excusing themselves for the bathroom and sneaking out the back door? ]

[ Bucky is credulous enough where Daisy is concerned — that aforementioned SHIELD cred, after all — but he and Sam are also such practiced shitstirrers with each other, slowly ratcheting up the bullshit to see who can fall for what, that he does finally start to doubt a little. Her latest finally makes him wonder. Maybe it's the word Chronicom. Maybe it's getting high on space edibles.

He squints at her over the table. ]

Okay. I just gotta check, just this once, and then I won't ask again. You swear you're not bullshitting me, Johnson?

Please, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. [ Daisy Johnson has pulled some grade A pranks in her life and done a truly beautiful job of bullshitting her way out of many a sticky situation, but this? This was too weird to be anything but true.

Another giant gulp of beer because she's desperately trying to avoid the thought spiral of wondering if her weird life is maybe too weird even for Bucky Barnes. Because if that's the case... Maybe it's the shot from earlier, but it's impossible for her to keep the sudden nervousness out of her expression. ]

I did warn you that this story would be a crazy one.

You did. And I guess I shouldn't've underestimated you. But to be fair, you gotta admit, I wasn't expecting this level of crazy.

[ Bucky's trying to put a lighter spin on it. But when that flash of nervousness crosses her face and she seems to get even antsier, more restless, then he waves at the waitress and gestures for her to bring them another round. More drinks. A sign of him settling in for the long haul. ]

Gonna have to up my bizarre adventures to keep up with you. So what happened when you were in the space casino, getting space high off space snacks?

[ There's the twitch of a teasing smile on his face, a volley of humour. ]

[ No one could ever possibly expect the level of crazy that is her life, it's true. Even other SHIELD agents marvel at the crap her team faced during their six years together. It's part of why the new recruits are usually intimidated by her. (Though the superpowers also probably factored into that pretty heavily.)

Narrowing her eyes playfully at his teasing, that nervous expression gives way to an amused smile as she shakes her head. ] I don't even remember half of it, honestly. I was tripping balls. If you ever have an alien offer you little puffies that look like meringue cookies, don't accept. I don't think even your metabolism could handle them. I mean, you might escape the world's worst hangover, but...

[ She grimaces theatrically before smiling again. ] When we realized Fitz was in the casino, Jemma went to find him and I fought off some Chronicom Hunters who were after us. Well, technically they were after Fitz — and they got him before we could, so we had to infiltrate their ship to try to get him back.

[ He drains the rest of his drink just in time for the new ones to arrive, and then he clinks his fresh glass against Daisy's. ]

Infiltrate like, go in undercover pretending to be one of them? Or infiltrate as in sneak around unseen?

[ Daisy follows his lead, finishing off her first drink so she can move on to the second. She's definitely feeling a buzz now, which makes it all the easier to tell the rollercoaster ride of those few weeks of her life. ]

Sneaking. Lots of sneaking and lots of being very outnumbered but still threatening to tear the ship apart. It didn't come to that, not that time anyway, but it was still a whole thing. FitzSimmons stayed behind and the rest of us went home only to find even more weird shit waiting for us involving a godlike alien called Izel from another dimension who was going around destroying planets and trying to bring the other godlike aliens from their dimension to ours. And there were these alien birds that turned people into zombies and then turned them into crystals that helped destroy planets. Oh, and I stopped a nuclear bomb from exploding.

[ Said like it's absolutely no big deal whatsoever. It kind of had been at the time but later events put it into perspective. Suddenly feeling very tired, she sighs heavily and wraps her hands around the cold glass that's slick with fresh condensation. ]

And as soon as we stopped the world from ending that time, Simmons shows up with a modified Zephyr (our spaceship) and the next thing we know, we're back in 1931 trying to stop the Chronicoms from destroying SHIELD in the past so we wouldn't be able to stop them from taking over Earth in the present because Izel destroyed their homeworld, Chronyca-2. [ A pause. ] I'm not actually sure what happened to Chronyca-1, I never thought to ask.

[ Bucky follows the rest of that quick abbreviated summary, and she can practically see the dizzy birds spinning around his head as he tries desperately to keep up. And that last line finally just totally gets him; makes him burst out laughing, startled amusement behind his glass of beer, scrubbing at his face.

There are so many threads here that he can tug on, and which he wants to hear more about — maybe the nuke, or the god-aliens? he wants to hear all of her stories, he realises — but in the end, he selects one of them like cherry-picking it from the stack of lunacy. ]

You time-travelled back to 1931 to protect old-school SHIELD? So, like, I was fourteen years old and swanning around Brooklyn and you were literally in the same timeline as me?

[ Yeah, she can definitely see him struggling to keep up with the whirlwind and it nearly sets her nerves on edge again, which is why she keeps rushing onward with it like she's sprinting to the finish line. But then he's laughing and everything is okay again.

(Damn, he has a good laugh.)

Shrugging her shoulders, she just kind of nods. ] Yeah, basically. I threatened a chauvinistic cop and we stopped some Hunters from killing Roosevelt before he could found the SSR.

[ The waitress arrives just then with their order of curly fries and an apology for the wait, which Daisy waves off with a smile. ]

[ He had literally forgotten they'd even ordered the fries, this conversation was so engaging. But he snares a couple of the waffle fries and pops them into his mouth, chewing contemplatively, while he takes her in along with all those details. (Here was a woman and a hero saving an American president, while he'd murdered one.)

But he pushes that intrusive thought aside. And then lets his next comment slip loose before he can think any better of it, brain running to tongue to mouth without filter: ]

Fourteen-year-old Jimmy would've had the hugest crush if he'd run into you then. Hot badass time traveller from the future, fighting alien robots and saving lives? Goner. It's like something out of the pulp serials.

[ Daisy stares at him for a moment with a half-formed smile before she looks down at the basket of fries, reaching out to grab one and lifting it to her lips. Before she takes a bite, she tilts her head contemplatively and almost absently comments: ]

Fourteen-year-old Jimmy had good taste. [ And then, teasingly, as if it's an absolute tragedy: ] It's too bad the 106-year-old version doesn't feel the same way.

[ And then she pops the fry into her mouth and wonders if she really just said that. ]

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