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

Anonymous asked: So this is the girl who lost her dog. We finally found her today. Completely by accident and all I can think is at least one thing has gone right this year.

AHHHH, HONEY I’M SO GLAD.

Originally posted by tana-the-dreamchaser

I hope everything keeps looking up, even just a little, for you, honey, and I’m so glad you found your furbaby, give her a kiss for me!

Anonymous asked: prompt: B, ship: E/R. Also I am reading things we lost in the fire and it's wonderful! Thank you for sharing!

2: At my worst, I worry you’ll realize you deserve better.  At my best, I worry you won’t. (I’ve never been better.)  

Modern AU motherfuckers. Behold, I have written fluff.  And thank you so much, I’m so glad you’re liking ‘things we lost in the fire,’ <3

Grantaire tugged at the cuff of his blazer, trying to resist the urge to pick at his outfit with nervous fingers.  Eponine and Bahorel had selected it for him, and although Bahorel wasn’t particularly menacing, Eponine had a key to Grantaire’s apartment, a Sharpie, a switchblade, and even odds on using either one—he wasn’t in a rush to disobey her. So, nice jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a blazer it was.  It didn’t mask the fact that he still looked semi-exhausted, but Cosette had informed him, in her sweetest and most anxiety-reducing tone, that as long as he wore a thin layer of stubble, he looked much more the lovelorn artist than the over-caffeinated grad student.

He was pretty sure she’d only said it to make him stop hyperventilating, but it was a nice sentiment.

“R!” Enjolras shouted from down the hall.  “You’re going to be late!”

“Fashionably late is a thing that exists, Apollo,” Grantaire said, giving one more nervous tug to the blazer before he stepped away from the mirror.  “How do I look?” he asked Enjolras, holding out his arms and trying to look Enjolras in the eye instead of letting his gaze wander to a safe corner of the ceiling.  “Ridiculous?”

“Shut up, you look incredible,” Enjolras said.  “And fashionably late may be a thing that exists, but not when you’re going to your own thing.”

“Sure it is,” Grantaire said, dragging his eyes away from the ceiling with difficulty and flicking a glance at Enjolras.  “You really don’t have to come, it’s not a big deal.”

Enjolras shot him a Look and knocked one foot against the floor, not quite a stomp, but enough to make the sole of his shot thud loudly as he plucked pointedly at the lapel of his red coat.  “It’s your first gallery opening.  If you think I’m not going, you have another one coming.”

“It’s not really, Cosette’s father–”

“Don’t care!” Enjolras interrupted, sharp and bright and grinning.  He stepped over and pressed a kiss to the corner of Grantaire’s mouth.  “R, love, it’s going to be fine,” he murmured, taking Grantaire’s hand.  “You didn’t get this because Valjean knows the gallery owner, you got this because your paintings are incredible, and you’re going to go let a bunch of people with a lot of money tell you so.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire breathed, and offered Enjolras a shaky smile.  “I don’t deserve you.”

“I strongly disagree.”

“I know. I hope you never realize you’re wrong,” Grantaire said, and his smile was more earnest this time.

“Are you ready?”

“Never better, Apollo,” Grantaire said, breathless, and let Enjolras steer him out the door.

Anonymous asked: "You could have had a harem" Oh my god that's amazing.

Originally posted by redpyrofox

THANK YOU, I’M HERE ALL WEEK

Referring to this 100% accurate and serious post about Gloin’s thoughts on his son’s lovelife, for those of you who are wondering.

Anonymous asked: i think im gay

Hey, honey, I know it can be scary to suddenly have your self-image change as drastically as something like this can.  So first, take a deep breath and let it out.  You’re the same person you were yesterday, a week ago, a year ago, you’re just learning something new about yourself.  Discovering stuff like this isn’t about adding stuff you didn’t have before, it’s like pulling something out of the attic and dusting it off.  It was always there, you’re just ready to look at it now.

Second of all, congratulations, honey!  Not on being gay, although my queer ass welcomes you to the party.  But it’s hard to acknowledge something like this, even to yourself, and I’m so, so proud of you for being that strong.  I’m honored that you told me, that you felt like you could tell me, and I hope I live up to that honor.  

And third of all: it’s okay.  It’s okay to be gay, honey.  I don’t know what your situation looks like, but I want that to be clear.  This is a part of you, a part of your heart, and it’s okay.  If you find that you’re bi, that you’re pan, that you’re just figuring shit out, that’s okay too.  If anybody gives you shit for this, I’ll punch them in the fucking face for you.

And finally, honey:

Originally posted by kropotkindersurprise

There are always going to be people who want you to be ashamed of who you love, the color of your skin, the shape of your body, the quirks of your mind.  And fuck them, honey.  Fuck them, straight to hell.

I love ya, honey.  I hope this was a little helpful for you.

Anonymous asked: Ayyy, how are all the prompts coming? Really love the latest vision/wanda, by the way!

They’re….going.  I have Many.  The next one on the docket is an E/R one, I’m hoping to have it done tonight.  And thanks!  

Originally posted by pastel-gifs

Anonymous asked: If you are in the mood to write pain (and, really, when aren't you in the mood to write pain): Rachel/Tobias during the early war

*mean cackling* So when I’m in a very particular mood about the little girl I used to be and how much she was screwed over, I tend to take it out on my characters.  Ergo, I am banned from touching my Alleirat story until our houseguest leaves, and will instead be writing Animorphs because how much worse could I make it.  Sorry.  And since this got pretty long and also there’s not exactly loads of Animorphs fic, I crossposted it to AO3.  If you like Animorphs, maybe comment on that shit or something.

here we stand (with our arms folded)

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since the disastrous attack on the Yeerk pool, the sun still over the trees at the edge of the forest where it butted up against Cassie’s farm.  The horse she’d morphed, whose quick legs had saved Cassie and one single woman the night before, was loose in the field, and Rachel was cross-legged on a crate in the barn as Cassie murmured to a wounded rabbit.  Rachel felt dazed, with exhaustion and shock, as if every blink and turn of her head demanded a fresh calibration of her brain, a new moment of I’m alive and nothing is okay.  She’d spent an hour in the shower after getting home, with the water as hot as she could stand, but she could still feel the grit of the Yeerk pool floor on her palms and feet, and kept expecting to catch a glimpse of Hork-Bajir blood on her human teeth in the mirror.  

Cassie didn’t seem much better, her hands still where she would usually be smoothly going through her tasks and her voice mindless nonsense, as if she was as numb as Rachel.  The silence wasn’t quite tense, but there was an unmistakable taut feeling that kept even the noisiest patients subdued and quiet.

“Did Jake say why he wanted to talk to us?” Rachel finally asked, and Cassie glanced up, shaking her head.

“No,” she said. 

Keep reading

Anonymous asked: BUT HOW DO YOU CATCH EVERYONES NAMES IN MAD MAX I JUST COULDNT NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRIED PLEASE SEND HELP

Wikipedia, Google, Tumblr, and this, my dude.  The end result is that I have a borderline encyclopedic knowledge of the characters in Fury Road.  Honestly I’m pretty sure like half of them don’t even get named in-movie, the script is probably like six pages.

Anonymous asked: My elementary school had the entire animorphs series and when I was in fifth grade I discovered them and I would check them out three at a time (I think at one point I was doing this every day) and just read through them. My teacher thought I was reading below my level and took away the one I was on and made me read "The Good Thief" and tell her how it ended before I could get it back.

This is eerily familiar, my elementary school experience looked very similar.  Admittedly I figured out really quick that I didn’t want to be explaining the Animorphs to my teachers (my mom asked about the first book while I was reading it at seven and she was VERY CONCERNED–of course then she read them herself and is easily as much of a die-hard as I am), but yeah man, I know that feel.  

Also I’m reading them out loud to my roommate and it’s fun times, and also-also you should ALWAYS feel free to come talk to me about Animorphs because it’s GOOD SHIT.  I have a Rachel/Tobias fic in reserve that I wrote today but won’t post just yet because I agreed not to torture my roommate while she’s feverish.

Anonymous asked: So I just went and saw Hidden Filigures and holy fuck is it a good movie. It is so amazing and I am in love

MY DESIRE TO SEE THAT MOVIE IS SO REAL.  I’m gonna make it happen, I just don’t have time right now because houseguests.

Anonymous asked: So, you mentioned there are different type of magic users in your Alleirat story. Any chance we could get a break down of the different types?

GODDAMN RIGHT YOU CAN

So I suppose the thing that bears mentioning that the way magic works in Alleirat is that a magic user (called a ‘worker,’ except for those who use fire magic) has inherent ability for a mode of using magic—they can channel magic in fire, in water, in plants, in metal, whatever, but they can’t do magic in anything else.  Someone who can channel magic through living plants can’t do the same with thread or water or fire, and they’ll never be able to learn.  So this can get REALLY specific really fast—someone might specifically be a silk worker, for example, or a bronze worker.  It’s more common, however, to specialize into a wide category, like ‘weather’ or ‘metal,’ so I’ll cover a few of the more common and/or pertinent ones.

• Fire magic, obviously.  Fire magic is revered as blessed by the Wanderer, the Alleirai god of fire, battle, and lies.  Brenneth, the main character, is a smith, which—in this universe—means that she’s specifically a broadly trained blacksmith with the ability to work in fire magic.  (Fire magic users are called fire smiths, not fire workers.)  This is pretty much what it says on the tin, with one major exception: unlike most fantasy universes where a mage can summon and throw fireballs, this is mundane fire, which means it needs fuel.  A fire smith of sufficient power can project a pillar of fire, but it’s incredibly short lived and impractical as a weapon.  Combat fire smiths generally carry small grenade-like packages that splash flammable oil over their target, when they can then ignite with ease.  

• Brenneth is something of an exception to this rule, because her trademark is something called white fire—white in Alleirat indicating death/deadly.  White fire isn’t actually white in color, but it’s the colloquial name for dragon fire, which needs no oxygen and no fuel save for the magical power and anger of the wielder. Brenneth earned her title of Fireheart by her preferred fighting style of igniting her sword with white fire—she refuses to teach this trick to anyone on the argument that it’s a dangerous technique with the potential for mass destruction, and she expects it to die with her.

• Weather magic, also obviously.  Weather magic is revered as blessed by the Lady of Stars, the Alleirai goddess of storms, stars, and fallen things.  Crispin is a powerful weather worker—and a fallen thing, and yes I am very pleased with that goddess.  Again, pretty much what it says on the tin, although to varying degrees.  Some weather workers expend themselves completely bringing down a single lightning strike, others—like Crispin—can rally hurricanes and still be standing.  Crispin is one of only a very few weather workers in history to be powerful enough to summon winds that are sufficiently strong and precise to carry him.  Much like fire smiths, combat weather workers often use an aid to direct their magic—it’s energetically taxing to aim lightning strikes, more so the further from one’s self the strike is going, so many weather workers carry rapiers.  They strike the rapier, which is close to themselves and strongly conductive, and then direct the charge at their target.

• Plant workers are also pretty much what it says on the tin, with the exception that a lot of plant workers have actual plant heritage—briatan are tree-people, descended from the universe-equivalent of dryads.  The briatan are more powerful, but less precise than pure human planet workers.  Isla Akekrei, generally known as Krei, the daughter of Brenneth’s old right hand woman and Brenneth’s new military ally, is briatan and a powerful plant worker—akekrei means oak. Krei, like many briatan plant workers, has tattoos in various plant-based inks on her arms, which she can manipulate and move around at will, and, also like many plant workers, she wears cuttings of vines and other plants on her person, which she can use as weapons.  You know that scene in Sky High where Layla flips out?  Yeah, like that.

• Flesh workers, ironically, are probably the most feared people in Alleirat, save Crispin himself.  Flesh workers channel magic through living flesh, which means they’re the magical healers in-universe.  However, a flesh worker is equally capable of healing a mortal wound or of clapping their hand to someone’s chest and making their heart explode, making every bone in their body shatter, or flaying them alive. The moment blood stops moving through the body, a flesh worker’s power is no longer capable of affecting an individual, but up until that point…  As long as they have skin-to-skin contact, a flesh worker can do pretty much whatever they want, no matter how physiologically improbable it is.  The only thing they really can’t do is reattach a completely severed limb. Incidentally, this is the most common kind of worker overall—and again, there are degrees—and the most common type of worker to go full dark side.  There’s a whole cadre of flesh worker assassins because, shocker, they’re the best at it.

• Death workers, on the other hand, are viewed in a similar way to healers in most fantasy universes—people literally cannot fathom a death worker going dark side.  Death workers are basically a variant on necromancers, with the ability to see spirits who’ve become trapped on the “wrong side of the day” (Alleirai religion says that spirits exist between days/on the other side of a day, and keep watch on their loved ones) and raise the dead as…puppets, I guess.  It’s very rare that the latter ability is used, and generally death workers are sort of like grief counselors/priests, responsible for performing funerals and speaking to the bereaved.  

• That being said, death workers are fearsome in combat.  There are stories from back when Alleirat was a bunch of small warring city-states, millennia ago, about death workers at war, and this is how they usually go.

• Two armies have been at war for years, and one, City-State A, is finally losing.  They know that if City-State B wins the war, they’ll sweep in and slaughter everyone left in City-State A, burn their cities—the traditional Sack of Magdeburg-esque situation.  So, a powerful death worker who’s been serving to ensure that all the spirits of the dead are safely on the other side of the day goes to her lord.
• “Lord,” she inevitably says, “I have the power to end this war, here and now.”  
• Her lord demurs, because what she’s offering is horrific in the Alleirai culture—you never ever tamper with a dead body except to put them to rest in the manner specified by the dead person.  This is a capital crime.
• “I will do this, and you cannot stop me,” she says.  “So bring in all the guards and tell the camp to go to sleep, and I will save us, and then I will die for what I’ve done.”
• Her lord agrees, because what other choice is there?  And the camp goes to sleep, and the death worker walks out onto the battlefield, where the bodies of the dead are neatly laid out and waiting to be laid to rest.  She stands in the middle of the dead, and she reaches out her hands, and all around her, they stand and take up weapons and march toward the enemy lines.  There is a single night of battle.  Every enemy soldier who falls is raised to march in the death worker’s army, and there are always more dead bodies to drive forward.
• The sun rises. The camp wakes.  The enemy lines are decimated, littered with dead bodies, and some distance away, somewhere with a clear view of the entire battle, the death worker lies dead.

• The worker wreaking havoc as a weapon of a lordling when Brenneth and Crispin come back to Alleirat?  A death worker fallen through from Earth named Hoshiko, with no friends, no support, and a conviction that she’s going insane.  ILY Shiko, I’m sorry I’m mean.