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crack_van2013-10-15 08:24 pm
cybermathwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2013-10-15 08:24 pm
Entry tags:
The Avengers (Movieverse)/His Dark Materials (PG-13)
Title: Looking for My Heart by Rainbowrites
Pairing: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, implied Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, implied Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, implied Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Length: 16,699
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rainbowrites
Author Website: LJ or AO3
Why this must be read:
There are quite a few Avengers/His Dark Materials fusions, but few have done such a unique and fantastic job of matching up the Avengers with Daemons asrainbowrites does here. The depictions of Natasha's experiences with her Daemon are chilling, while Clint and Loquis just make sense. The story goes farther than just experimenting with Daemons though and stretches from the nightmares of the Red Room to the joyful absurdity of pranks in the Tower with equal skill. I particularly love the handle she has on Steve, both how he acts and how other people react to him. The story is peppered through with brief little insights that blow each of the characters wide open and expose who they are inside just as surely as their Daemons do. It's hysterical and heartbreaking and heartwarming and hot, which is always (to me) the mark of an incredibly good fic.
Loquis gives him the name Hawkeye, calls him that as she buzzes around his head in that way that lets him know she thinks she’s just the shit.
Natasha is the only one that understands. Her daemon isn’t a black widow either.
“Names have power,” she’d murmured the first time they met, an empty space the only thing by her side. She had knives where her cheekbones should be, and eyes that made him want to sit up and beg. “Best not give any away.”
He’d wanted to ask if she meant names or power, or both, but she’d been looking at him appraisingly. She looked at him like he was a weapon she was sizing up for use. Not a person, not a carnie, not a stupid kid, not a potential fuck up with a useless daemon, but another weapon in her arsenal.
(But not just a weapon. He lives by his bow, he knows what a weapon means to the one who wields it. It’s your life, your sword and your shield all at once. It’s the balancing beam to keep you on that razor edge between life and death, sanity and madness. Not that he could ever be classified as sane really)
He’d never felt freer.
So he’d just smirked at her, and Loquis had flown over to perch in her hair like a hairpin. She hadn’t even blinked at the broken taboo. She didn’t hold much truck with them, except for how she could manipulate those people who did.
She’d been like an electric current under his skin, for all that Loquis had been hanging to only a single strand of her hair with one pair of tiny legs. She’d felt a like a newborn star, white hot and so full of raw power that it made his eyes water. She’d lifted up one delicate finger and Loquis had crawled onto it like she did it all the time. It was like drowning and burning up and flying all at once. He hadn’t moved, just locked his knees and raised his eyebrow at her.
She’d raised one right back.
“My name’s Clint,” he’d said, because what the hell. In for a penny and all that. According to what she’d just said, he was giving her power over himself. But then again, she kind of already had plenty. His grin had tasted like lightning, the way the air went heavy with electricity right before it struck. He’d kept his arrow trained perfectly on one beautiful green eye though. Clint Barton is a lot of things, but he wasn’t suicidally stupid. (Not that Tasha would agree, based on certain cases. This among them.)
“Clint.” The tip of her tongue had darted out to taste the word on her lips, and if Clint hadn’t already been slowing his heartbeat down the way he always did on a mission it would have faltered at the sight.
“So what do you say?” He’d asked. That one green eye had been magnified a hundred fold by the telescopic sights of his bow, and he could see the miniscule widening as he asked.
A voice behind him, heavy with an accent the Black Widow doesn’t share, had said, “Ve haff got red in our ledger.”
“I’ve got some fantastic accountants back home,” Clint had very determinedly not jumped at the feel of bird claws biting into the leather on his shoulder. “And if that fails we can always try throwing a little blue in there, see if we can get that red to go purple.” Maybe he should have wondered if it was a bad thing that he wanted to impress the person he was assigned to kill, but he’d just tapped his communicator and sing-songed, “Please Daddy, can we keep her?”
(Nowadays though, he uses the name ‘cause he likes fucking with people. “I’m Hawkeye,” he’ll introduce himself, grinning with too much teeth.
“And I’m Hawk,” she’ll finish, making sure to get right up in the other daemon’s face. “What, you never heard of a daemon having a code name too?”)
Title AO3 or LJ
Author's Summary: In which Natasha is a witch, and Clint's useless in a fight. That is, just because your heart's outside your body doesn't mean doesn't mean people see it.
Pairing: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, implied Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, implied Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, implied Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Length: 16,699
Author on LJ:
rainbowritesAuthor Website: LJ or AO3
Why this must be read:
There are quite a few Avengers/His Dark Materials fusions, but few have done such a unique and fantastic job of matching up the Avengers with Daemons as
rainbowrites does here. The depictions of Natasha's experiences with her Daemon are chilling, while Clint and Loquis just make sense. The story goes farther than just experimenting with Daemons though and stretches from the nightmares of the Red Room to the joyful absurdity of pranks in the Tower with equal skill. I particularly love the handle she has on Steve, both how he acts and how other people react to him. The story is peppered through with brief little insights that blow each of the characters wide open and expose who they are inside just as surely as their Daemons do. It's hysterical and heartbreaking and heartwarming and hot, which is always (to me) the mark of an incredibly good fic.Loquis gives him the name Hawkeye, calls him that as she buzzes around his head in that way that lets him know she thinks she’s just the shit.
Natasha is the only one that understands. Her daemon isn’t a black widow either.
“Names have power,” she’d murmured the first time they met, an empty space the only thing by her side. She had knives where her cheekbones should be, and eyes that made him want to sit up and beg. “Best not give any away.”
He’d wanted to ask if she meant names or power, or both, but she’d been looking at him appraisingly. She looked at him like he was a weapon she was sizing up for use. Not a person, not a carnie, not a stupid kid, not a potential fuck up with a useless daemon, but another weapon in her arsenal.
(But not just a weapon. He lives by his bow, he knows what a weapon means to the one who wields it. It’s your life, your sword and your shield all at once. It’s the balancing beam to keep you on that razor edge between life and death, sanity and madness. Not that he could ever be classified as sane really)
He’d never felt freer.
So he’d just smirked at her, and Loquis had flown over to perch in her hair like a hairpin. She hadn’t even blinked at the broken taboo. She didn’t hold much truck with them, except for how she could manipulate those people who did.
She’d been like an electric current under his skin, for all that Loquis had been hanging to only a single strand of her hair with one pair of tiny legs. She’d felt a like a newborn star, white hot and so full of raw power that it made his eyes water. She’d lifted up one delicate finger and Loquis had crawled onto it like she did it all the time. It was like drowning and burning up and flying all at once. He hadn’t moved, just locked his knees and raised his eyebrow at her.
She’d raised one right back.
“My name’s Clint,” he’d said, because what the hell. In for a penny and all that. According to what she’d just said, he was giving her power over himself. But then again, she kind of already had plenty. His grin had tasted like lightning, the way the air went heavy with electricity right before it struck. He’d kept his arrow trained perfectly on one beautiful green eye though. Clint Barton is a lot of things, but he wasn’t suicidally stupid. (Not that Tasha would agree, based on certain cases. This among them.)
“Clint.” The tip of her tongue had darted out to taste the word on her lips, and if Clint hadn’t already been slowing his heartbeat down the way he always did on a mission it would have faltered at the sight.
“So what do you say?” He’d asked. That one green eye had been magnified a hundred fold by the telescopic sights of his bow, and he could see the miniscule widening as he asked.
A voice behind him, heavy with an accent the Black Widow doesn’t share, had said, “Ve haff got red in our ledger.”
“I’ve got some fantastic accountants back home,” Clint had very determinedly not jumped at the feel of bird claws biting into the leather on his shoulder. “And if that fails we can always try throwing a little blue in there, see if we can get that red to go purple.” Maybe he should have wondered if it was a bad thing that he wanted to impress the person he was assigned to kill, but he’d just tapped his communicator and sing-songed, “Please Daddy, can we keep her?”
(Nowadays though, he uses the name ‘cause he likes fucking with people. “I’m Hawkeye,” he’ll introduce himself, grinning with too much teeth.
“And I’m Hawk,” she’ll finish, making sure to get right up in the other daemon’s face. “What, you never heard of a daemon having a code name too?”)
Title AO3 or LJ
Author's Summary: In which Natasha is a witch, and Clint's useless in a fight. That is, just because your heart's outside your body doesn't mean doesn't mean people see it.