Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

Some Nat/Steve friend fluff for @littlestartopaz, in that soulmate AU from earlier, reading it probably isn’t necessary but I’m always in search of approbation.  This is probably just a few months after the Avengers were formed, in my bastardized movies-comics-wishful-thinking-verse where they all live in Avengers Tower.

Steve and Natasha are sparring, because Steve gets nervous about sparring with fragile normal humans and Natasha is willing to bully him into it.  Tony isn’t generally one to spar, given the suit, and Clint’s still recovering from the cracked rib he sustained on their last mission, and Thor, who could take Steve’s full strength punch without batting an eye, is still off-planet handling his psychopath brother.  (No one asks Bruce to spar, because they all like being un-splatted.) So Natasha drags Steve’s protesting ass into the ring and punches him in the face until he fights back.  Unless he manages to actually grab her, it’s a pretty fair match.

It’s a system, okay, and if Natasha thinks it’s funny that he’s afraid he’ll hurt her, that’s between her and the inside of her own skull.

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Meet Cute: Shock & Awe

fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment:

• You just decimated that cat-caller, please marry me?
  
• I’m moving and as I was carrying my table out of my old building I dropped it and a leg fell off and I cannot deal with this today but you just said ‘I got this’, busted a hammer and nails out of your purse, and started fixing my table in the middle of the sidewalk? 
• I saw somebody following you so I was trying to catch up and tell you but I was too late and you just stone cold judo-flipped that mugger and I was going to offer to make sure you got home safe but on second thought would you mind walking me home?
• My incredibly stupid cat just jumped out of my apartment window after a bird and you caught her in your arms like a baby and looked up, stared me dead in the eye and said “I think you dropped something” 
• You walked into my shop, ordered three black coffees like you were on a coffee run for your friends or something, and then shotgunned them one after another right in front of me and I am concerned 
• Due to some kind of accidental spark all of the fireworks in the back of my car are now all exploding at the same time so I abandoned ship only to watch you bust out a fire extinguisher and rescue my poor car how can I thank you 

just-shower-thoughts:

When medication says “do not operate heavy machinery” they’re probably mainly referring to cars, but my mind always goes to forklift.

(via lupinatic)

helluva-pilot:

y’all its okay to cry even though it’s someone you never actually met. it’s okay to be sad. it’s okay to feel anything you feel.

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

gokuma:

meripihka7:

The problem with shipping a niche ship: you read all the fanfiction in one afternoon and if you want some more you have to write it yourself.

The problem with shipping a popular ship: 16,835 results on AO3. You start playing with tags and sorting through it, full of determination, confident that with so many fanfics you’re bound to find something you’ll like. Two hours, 30 instances of awful writing, 8 squick-outs,13 wtf AUs and 157 just plain uninteresting later you have to rush back to the canon to even remember why you liked the ship in the first place.

The problem with a popular ship: there are 6,285 fics similar to yours and you can’t help but compare your writing with others

The problem with writing a niche ship: you write only for yourself + your best friend who’s either your enabler or just feels sorry for you

(via lupinatic)

featherquillpen:

I know this is utterly ridiculous to think in a time like this, but I feel like my Animorphs tumblr friends would understand. Ever since last night, I’ve had a line from the Andalite death ritual in book #18 stuck in my head on a loop. “My life is not my own, when the People have need of it.” The People have never had more need. My life is not my own. It’s time to devote it to protecting freedom, in any way I might.

roachpatrol:

also about that comment on yeerks smothering each other: i’m pretty sure one of the really big social problems yeerks faced was that yeerks in their natural state cannot individually murder each other. they’re softbodied aquatic invertebrates. they have nothing to murder each other with. 

killing a yeerk would be a group effort: they would either have to bury a yeerk in the silt of the bottom of the pool and guard him for days, or slowly push a rock on top of that yeerk until he’s crushed, or by group effort isolate and then shove the yeerk out of the pool on to dry land and keep him there until he dries out. these group efforts would be exhaustive and require extensive, determined coordination. basically, yeerks have only ever executed each other. 

unfortunately, yeerks gain the capacity to murder people in the space of… a day. a week at the outside. monday: no yeerks had ever murdered anyone. friday: they’d shot like three andalites and were starting in on shooting each other.

yeerks are not emotionally equipped to understand murder. they understand death, and predators, and maybe even socially-mandated execution. but a species with no real form of organized warfare or interpersonal violence gets its hands on guns and spaceships and goes basically fucking nuts. think about it: humans know we can fuck each other up. all our cultures acknowledge and regulate our capacity— and our desire— to kill people we hate. 

yeerks don’t have that. yeerks have never had that. they suddenly get that and they go fucking nuts.  roughly fifty years later they are still fucking nuts, only even more so because they’ve locked themselves into this completely unnatural, artificial social situation— a highly regimented life of total war— and any yeerk with a host now has the capacity to kill. and they kill each other a lot. their whole ranking system boils down to ‘who is allowed to kill who’. esplin 9466 gets an andalite body but still has a yeerk’s mind, a yeerk’s total lack of… control, awareness, something, and he just fucking starts chopping heads off and never slows down. 

the ultimate fridge horror of the animorphs, i think, is that the yeerks themselves are child soldiers: terribly young people in a terrible situation, born into a war they didn’t start, forced to use alien technologies that mutiliate their sense of self, their capacity for pain, their ability to relate to noncombatants, even their fellow combatants. the first victim of the yeerk empire was the yeerks themselves. 

(via featherquillpen)

skymurdock:

Carrie Fisher was important to so many people. she was important to me. I wanted to meet her.

I read that she would’ve liked people to report that she drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra. so – that’s what happened. she drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra, bc space stuff.

may the Force be with you, Carrie Fisher.

Moran Rereads the Animorphs

Book 5: The Predator

AKA “Marco learns about dramatic irony, the PTSD squad meets the big boss, and we encounter the reason I hate lobsters and think ants are the devil”

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