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

For @littlestartopaz: 34 - Vision/Wanda

When you’re around I don’t know how to hide my feelings.  I count in binary, in my head.  zero one one zero one one and you count clouds. (while you count clouds)

So it was going to be a stand-alone Vision/Wanda thing but then I started it after eight hours of researching WWI and???  Instead it’s an immediate prequel to the first Vision/Wanda fic I ever wrote, it’s mostly Natasha being smug, and Wanda doesn’t even appear, I don’t know what happened.

Natasha prided herself on being difficult to sneak up on.  It had served her well for their brief stint in Wakanda, but now they were in America again, scattered up the East Coast, and she was sitting on the roof of one of her less secret safehouses, watching the sun go down.  And any dense half-blind idiot could see a six-foot bright red robot in a cape descending onto a roof in Middle of Nowhere, Appalachia.  

The only reason she didn’t immediately yank out the gun she’d tucked away under the corner of her blanket was because Stark, Banner, and Rhodes were all about as subtle as…well, a six-foot bright red robot in a cape.  She was confident that she’d notice them coming, and if she didn’t they deserved to cuff her.

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50 A Softer World Prompts

sleepy-skittles:

Send an ask with a number + a ship.

1. Our love is a forest fire and we are the little things that live in the trees. (Today is the most exciting day of our lives.)
   
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.)
   
3. If loud, weird public sex is wrong, then being wrong is wicked hot. (right and wrong are just guidelines to hotter sex)
   
4. i don’t know what the fuck true love even is but i do want to hang out with you for basically the rest of my life. (let’s hang out - TO THE DEATH)
   
5. my five year plan is to maybe go out for ice cream this afternoon? (Live every day like the ice cream store is closing.)
   
6. I have loved since you.  But when the new paint gets scratched, there you are underneath. (My heart is layers of scar.)
   
7. I know your weakness.  It’s kisses.  You are doomed. (Don’t worry.  We’re all doomed eventually.)
   
8. Ah, unrequited love.  When your best isn’t enough. (Participation medals of the heart.)
   
9. CAN’T STOP WON’T STOP NOT SURE HOW TO STOP (WHY STOP)
   
10. When you touch me, my mind is gone.  The only words I know are lost inside your body. (right in there.)
    
11. hey, i’m liking your photos at 2am because i want to make out.  i’m texting you at noon because i want to make out.  i woke up today because i (we don’t need words)
    
12. It’s a full moon.  I bought some rope and handcuffs to bring to bed tonight. (beware the moon.)
    
13. You aren’t really a good person, but god damn, you make bad look awesome. (no one could steer me right, but mama tried.)
    
14. I think I’ve got fireflies where my caution should be. (Instead of slowing down, I just shine brighter.)
    
15. No no, we aren’t breaking up!  You didn’t let me finish.  I’m gay for YOU. (And I’m queer for math!)
    
16. Roses are red, Violets are blue, You can do whatever you want to me. (please do.)
    
17. I do not believe in love at first sight.  But god damn. (Look at you.)
    
18. I don’t know how to make things right.  So I’ll just keep pretending that nothing’s wrong. (you know that I’m no good)
    
19. When I look at you all I can see are the mistakes we’re going to make. (The future’s so bright.)
    
20. If something seems too good to be true, quick!  put it in your mouth! (before anything can go wrong!)
    
21. To thine own self be wicked sexy. (And then send pics.)
    
22. Today’s a perfect day for naked cuddling.  I don’t even care what day it is.  Every day is perfect. (I’m gonna spend it with you.)
    
23. We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)
    
24. I joined Plenty of Fish to find out who stole my bike.  A fun first date would be going to your house to see if you have my bike. (What a lovely home.  Do you have a shed?)
    
25. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us.  Let’s run away together! (Let’s join a street gang!  Is NASA recruiting?)
    
26. I love you the way a knife loves a heart the way a bomb loves a crowd the way your mother warned you about, essentially. (the way a human loves another human)
    
27. Our love is like.  Our love is only like. (I like you.  I don’t LIKE like you.)
    
28. I miss doing nothing with you. (I miss not having to pretend to like your family.)
    
29. I hate it when you leave but I love to look at your butt while you walk away. (it gives me sexual arousal.)
    
30. In a dark, dark wood there was a dark, dark house and in that dark, dark house I think we should get drunk and fool around. (I want dirt under my fingernails.)
    
31. I love the way your face lights up when someone says, “It might be dangerous.” (I am glad we are friends.)
    
32. I think you are beautiful and I would like to kiss you.  I can think up some clever lines, if you’d prefer.  But I wanted to say that, first. (None of those lines seemed to be about you or me.)
    
33. I cannot help but notice we are sitting-in-a-tree.  So, you know, maybe we could think of something to do… verb-wise. (I want us to gerund, essentially.)
    
34. When you’re around I don’t know how to hide my feelings.  I count in binary, in my head.  zero one one zero one one and you count clouds. (while you count clouds)
    
35. I hate trying to put my desire into words when my body knows exactly what to say.  Come home. (You can’t start a fire without a spark.)
    
36. I love you but I don’t love you enough to give up falling in love. (anyway, happy anniversary!)
    
37. on the paper, she had written “you” and she told me “that’s a list of the people who are standing too close.” (I ain’t your pal.)
    
38. You are the love of my life so far. (Tomorrow’s just a day away.)
    
39. There should be a word for a threat that is also a promise.  Because that is what I want you to hold me down and do. (I love you)
    
40. I laugh along but inside I know that it’s true: Being in love is totally punk rock. (quiet kisses are so hardcore)
    
41. I don’t believe each person has just one true love, but sometimes we don’t have enough time to find another. (That’s the way it crumbles.  Cookie-wise.)
    
42. I would love you more if you were someone who could love me. (buy your love by playing make believe.)
    
43. Fun things to yell during sex: Anything. (he is risen.)
    
44. I am writing a book of love poetry for you.  For example: “The only reason you could possibly need your music that loud is if you were planning to listen from my apartment.  You downstairs motherfuckers.” (Every day I hope to see a moving truck pull in.  Or an ambulance.)
    
45. when I picture you with your new lover I get angry, and then sad, then kinda horny. (I miss you)
    
46. We are terrible for each other, and, yes, we are a disaster.  But tell me your heart doesn’t race for a hurricane or a burning building.  I’d rather die terrified than live forever. (mistakes aren’t always regrets)
    
47. If they invented a way to actually have sex over the internet you and I could use that glorious technology for internet hugs. (You know, when I wasn’t using it for sex.)
    
48. Life would be way easier if I were easier. (Fact.)
    
49. I want to rob lumber mills and hospitals with you and just bewilder the hell out of people the way love should. (We will make everything wrong in the right way.)
    
50. I will always love you, or anyway I will always have loved you now. (And you will always be someone who was beautiful, once.)
    

(via skymurdock)

Anonymous asked: Sooooo, for the sake of pain, can I have a Nat/Clint fic for the OTP song thing for "Castle of Glass" by Linkin Park

*cackling* All right, let’s play.  Trigger warning for…Red Room shit.  There’s more of this story, of course, after the events of the last scene, but I felt like this was a good place to end it.

Bring me home in a blinding dream,
Through the secrets that I have seen
Wash the sorrow from off my skin
And show me how to be whole again

‘Cause I’m only a crack in this castle of glass
Hardly anything there for you to see

She is very small when she learns what they mean, the words inscribed over the curve of her hipbone.  Not the words themselves—they’re not Russian, not even the right alphabet, her parents say they’re French and she wonders what it means.  But they are her soulmate, her parents say.  Someday, somewhere, someone will say them to her, and that will be the person the universe has created just for her.

She smiled and traces her fingers over the words, over and over, and wonders who it will be.

And then her life catches fire and burns to ash, and she is taken away by a tall man with a solemn face, and given a new name.

Natalia grows up, and learns, and fights, and bleeds.  

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piggybunny12 asked: EXR--Point of No Return from Phantom...or really anything from Phantom. I saw it last night and all the sudden it's sophomore year of high school again for me...

Not gonna lie, baby, I have not…actually seen Phantom of the Opera, but I googled the song and Tried. Yeah, yeah, I’m a heathen, I know. I am Trying.  And this.  Oh god. I make SUCH a rule about not writing smut except on specific request, so I just…stopped before it progressed to actual sex.  But rest assured that’s where this goes, and if you’re interested I’m glad to write it.

“Combeferre, make sure our weapons are prepared,” Enjolras was saying, the sort of rapid-fire rattle that commanded effortless attention.  He’d worked his way through every present member of Les Amis and then some by now, even little Gavroche getting instructions as they readied themselves for the next day’s march.  That just left…  “And where the hell is Grantaire?”

“Madame Houchloupe commandeered him as waitstaff,” Courfeyrac said with a wicked grin.

“What?”

“He means that she asked him to fetch more wine from the cellar, it’s crowded tonight,” Combeferre translated with a sigh.  “He’s probably still down there.”

“We are—this is not the moment for his antics,” Enjolras snapped, a scowl writing itself deeply into his features.  

“He’s been gone barely ten minutes,” Joly said, waving a hand.  “If you’re so thrice-blasted worried, go find him yourself.”

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Anonymous asked: For the song otp thing, bicycle race by queen

I see you trying to trip me up and all I have to say is: I hope this is as weird as you expected it to be.  I feel like it fits the tone of the song.  Two OTP’s, even though only half of each pairing is present, and I guess this is more like…the start of plot than just an OTP thing.

“Once upon a time, there was a girl,” the girl with the long hair murmurs, “and what no one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers.  Which I thought included a sense of direction, but clearly not,” she adds with a scowl, her helmet tucked under one arm and her hip propped against the motorcycle behind her.  “Snickers, where are we?”

The goblin in question peers out of her pack—where she firmly stuffed him out of sight because wow she is not explaining that to any cops who happen to pull her over—and stares, wide-eyed, up at the town in front of them. It looks…odd.  The town, not the goblin, Snickers looks pretty much how he normally does except slightly less chocolate-smeared, because it’s been a good six hours since their last stop at a gas station and his beloved candy bars have since run out.  But the town…

Well. Sarah’s not going to call the Arbys with the glowing lights overhead, the park in the distance surrounded by a twelve-foot fence topped with barbed wire (helpfully labeled ‘Dog Park: Do Not Enter, Look At, or Think About’ to Sarah’s unusually good eyes), or the house apparently under a pillar of divine light the weirdest thing she’s ever seen. But she’s maybe considering adding it to the list.

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freshfriedtrash:

commodorecliche:

every song is an OTP song if you AU hard enough

NEW GAME SEND ME A SONG AND I’LL WRITE AN AU FOR IT

(via returnofthemadking)

For the random title fic meme, from @littlestartopaz:  Sugar and spice. Miraculous! Fandom

This is obviously the fic where Alya is convinced that her best friend is cheating on her boyfriend who is…also cheating on her?  It’s all a little confusing, honestly, there are a lot of people to keep track of in this…love trapezoid, or so she tells Nino when she commandeers recruits him to help figure it out.

There are three problems with her mission to figure out what the hell is going on with Marinette and Adrien.  Little problems.  Tiny, really.  She can barely see them, they’re so small.

First of all, Marinette and Adrien are impossible to keep track of, which means she can’t even get a good picture of the guilty parties caught red-handed.  Alya can get around this, okay, she is a skilled journalist, she’ll figure it out even if she has to bug the little bastards.  (Nino thinks this is going a bit far, but she did not ask for his opinion, thank you very much.)

Second of all, neither Marinette nor Adrien will even entertain suspicion of each other, which under any other circumstances Alya would consider a good thing.  Really!  But how are they so dense, she wonders aloud on more than a few occasions to Nino.  Hell, they’re always running off without explanations, anyone would be suspicious.

Third of all, and this might be a slightly bigger problem, the other half of this set of guilty couples is pretty high profile.

But how do you just up and accuse the heroes of Paris of cheating with a couple of high school students?

Anonymous asked: Ooooh! I'd love to reas that fic when you write it. And the phrase is from a Conrad Aiken poem, jsyk.

THANK YOU SO MUCH, I’m totally going to write it someday.  Probably next year when I’m not in school full time.  (And also thank you for the source because???  Fuck me, that’s a gorgeous quote.)

Anonymous asked: Twisted By Simple Light

Maniacal cackling.  This would be/might actually someday be the title of the Fic We Shall Not Speak Of, previously discussed here.  I’m literally going to copy-paste because I’m so pleased with that summary.

Padme Naberrie-not-yet-Amidala is three when the Force comes to her, as strong as one of the great storms that close down all of Naboo, four when the Jedi turn her away for being too old, five when she begins teaching the Force to herself.

Surely emotion is not wicked at its core, young Padme says, surely not, and she reaches out, learns to shape the Force with her passions and her loves and her rages and her laughs, and it is warm and rich and wild and vicious and everything (and surely this cannot be the Dark Side).  

When she stands on the Tatooine sand and meets a boy who shines like a sun, some part of her mind (the part that’s seen people die because their vaunted politicians took too long to see them suffering, the part that’s seen wars start over petty arguments and diplomatic differences, the part that looks around Tattooine and thinks look at all these suffering people, if only I had the power to save them) says yesssss.  And she reaches out and she takes his hand and she stays in touch and she assures him that no, emotion is not wrong, love is not wrong, Attachment is not wrong, he is not wrong.  

One day…oh, one day he comes to her, wild-eyed, with the words of another person on his tongue and talk about Sith, and she does her research and she thinks look at all these suffering people, if only I had the power, and…

Well.  Padme only wants to help.  Surely the ends justify the means.  Surely this cannot be Dark, if it’s to save starving children and wounded soldiers and slaves.

And the Empire rises under the command of its Empress and her iron fist, Darth Vader.

sroloc--elbisivni asked: For the fic titles prompt: the word that breathed the world (Librarians? Maybe?)

For the record, I have no idea if this is legitimate and/or refuted by an episode I haven’t seen (desperately, desperately behind), but S T I L L.  This fic would be the story of the Library’s favorites through the millennia (she is a library, after all–her favorites are wordsmiths and silver-tongued diplomats, world-changers and storytellers).

The Library is sentient.  This is not a commonly known fact–sometimes Librarians go their whole career without even realizing it.  She does not particularly mind this.

(Sometimes, in the netherspace where she has a shape that is more woman than building, she meets with others like herself.  A waif of a boy, the thirteenth of his kind, whose eyes crackle with purple lightning, tells wild stories of heroics and villany and…goo?  A slender willow-wand fae dressed in ragged white and trailing glittering dust in her wake complains of her lovesick king and the mortal girl who defeated him.  The boy is young, only centuries old.  The willow-wand is ancient, even older than the Library.  There are others, but these are the eldest and the youngest, the bookends of their kind.)

The vital thing about a sentient being is that sentient beings have favorites–it’s unavoidable.  The Library being rather fickle, not all of her favorites are Librarians.

Galahad is sheltered in her Annex on the merits of his old friends, more so than on his own.  Merlin asked, and she loved him, so she did as requested.  Merlin isn’t quite like her, but he’s not quite human either, and sometimes, very occasionally, she will sense the touch of a hand on one of her many doors as Merlin passes by.

Greek and Rome were riddled with poets and philosophers–the others like her had varying opinions on them.  She was fond of Catullus with his filthy sense of humor, and of Plato with his unusually good grasp of the netherworld, but, oh, Sappho she loved.

Sun Tzu was too warlike to be a Librarian, too much a tactician and not enough of a dreamer, but she would slip him secrets of long-dead armies in his dreams to bolster his writing.

Poe and Shelley and Byron and Keats–she did love the Romantics.  They were her favored for years, brilliant comets that burned out so fast.  The willow-wand shook her head at the Library for it, remarking on the merits of immortal citizenry.

But William–William was her best beloved, her most cherished mortal favorite.  She would be hard-pressed to find someone to stand beside him and his golden words and dirty jokes and impossible wisdom.  Not even the willow-wand could hold that against her, her immortal faerie residents drawn to his starlight words like moths to a flame.

(When Prospero first stepped into her walls, she had a moment of blind hope that maybe, somehow, her dear Shakespeare had returned to her.)