Everything else is just static on the line.

This started as place to post fanfic quotes that caught my eye, and sort of accidentally turned into a place to post ficrecs and share tumblrfics. Current favorite fandoms include Avengers, Doctor Who/Torchwood, White Collar, Stargate SG-1/SGA, Hawaii Five-0, and now Good Omens. And some others. It's a long list. :)

[v8roadworrier]

a crack fic where furiosa just assumes max knows they’re wasteland married so she’s very casual about it & (begrudgingly) accepts that he doesn’t want anything sexual, gives small physical touches like holding his hand or petting his hair or probably punching and butting heads (she lived with war boys after all), lets him sleep in her bed no questions asked, works shoulder-to-shoulder in the garage, gets all close and sweaty sparring together, etc, meanwhile max is Desperately Pining but he thinks furiosa is just a physical person and she couldn’t possibly want a Relationship with him

the key here is furiosa has to assume They’re Already Together not just her being comfortable with him

ideally there’s a bit where she introduces him as her husband to some random trade people or w/e and he’s like “????? oh! we are Fake Dating!!!! okay i can do this i went undercover once she’ll never know i’m not faking”

[innytoes]

Do you think Hardison, who is well-versed in fanfiction and fandom tropes, ever stops to look at his life and is just like: omg.

Undercover at a coffee shop? COFFEE SHOP AU. Parker, please let me make you a coffee so we can have our very own meet-cute. 

They have to get out of town fast and end up at a shitty little motel. Eliot opens the door and growls. Parker shrugs. Hardison stands on the treshhold, fist to his mouth, and gleefully whispers: there’s only one bed.

Fake dating? He is here for it. Fake married? HELL YEAH BABY they will be so married nobody will doubt their marriedness. 

Parker doesn’t understand why he’s so excited about the tattoo shop next door to their clients, a flower-shop being harrassed by a big property developer who wants their building. “Do you want a tattoo?” she asks. No, babe, it’s just this fandom thing… “Oh it’s one of your make-believe about make-believe things.” Um… yeah.

Stuck in a snowstorm? Not as great or as sexy as fandom made it out to be.

Hardison meaningfully saying: and they were roommates and being annoyed that nobody answers.

He’s still waiting for the ‘undercover as a stripper’ episode. He’s ready. For whoever it is. He has outfits. He has nipple tassles. He has the whole Magic Mike choreography down just in case it’s him, okay?

That time Parker steals an entire busload of orphans through the power of Haagen-Das and he’s like: this is not how Accidental Baby Acquisition Fics usually go but okay, that’s cool.

Hardison saying Eliot shouldn’t try and seduce someone to get information out of them, because ‘Sam will kill him if he tries anything’ and everyone being like WHO THE HELL IS SAM.

Giant Fandom Nerd Hardison living his best fandom life, okay?

[kryptaria]

Oh my god all this yes.

[violent-darts]

I have a lot of revisionist unwritten fanfic for a lot of properties that basically comes down to “what happens if you put one - even just ONE - competent, ethical, empathetic adult in here who can actually help this child/teenager handle this bullshit. What happens”” got one for Harry Potter? And if so, can you share? I’m very keen to see your idea of how you’d revise this to tell a different kind of story.

I did a little bit of this one as my LilyLives!AU, Decade and One although I sort of got distracted/ran out of steam before I got much in the way of the school years written. But. BLATHER FOLLOWS. Because even though I don’t often have the brain to WRITE this verse I still LOVE this verse deeply. 

Keep reading

[words-writ-in-starlight]

I read your Steve and Logan bits and they are amazing. But consider this; Steve learns that Logan, who's older than WW1, has lost his memories. He gives a statement in an interview describing this man, this patriot who always looked after other people in his own gruff way, describes his side-burns, his claws, his cigars. And suddenly, people are calling into the station; "Yeah, think I met this guy a few years ago" "My granddad has this photo..." "So, In this bar one time..."

And all these people call in, sharing their own memories of this mysterious Cryptid named Logan who is apparently an immortal, grumpy, wandering dad-friend who’s also a patriot and he helped punch out Nazi’s and free camps and beats up assholes who don’t respect women. And the whole while Logan is watching this from a TV screen with Kitty or Rogue holding his hand so gently, after they dragged him to the couch in a hurry. “You recording this?” “Don’t worry, we won’t let you miss a single word.”

Okay but if we’re gonna do this we’re gonna do this HARDCORE HISTORIAN STYLE, and it initially comes up while Steve is being interviewed for a book about the Howling Commandos or a bit for the History Channel or something.  Because this person is like “Hey, there are a bunch of stories of you showing up somewhere with only one dude for backup, was that Bucky?”  And we’ll assume that this is before the whole Winter Soldier thing, so that’s not a hideously loaded question.  

And Steve kind of laughs and he’s like, “Oh, wow, God, that was actually this dude on detached duty from the Canadian special forces, he and I got sent on a bunch of missions together.  His name was Logan, he was the weirdest guy I ever met, and I knew some pretty weird guys, but he could take a hit even better than I could, so when the Howlies were laid up, they sent us out together.”  And he launches into this story about how one time he and Logan stole a plane complete with pilot and stormed a prison camp that was holding German Jews before sending them up to Poland, and the historian he’s talking to is taking frantic notes and trying not to drool because THIS IS A NEW GUY.  CAPTAIN AMERICA’S STORY IS METICULOUSLY WELL DOCUMENTED BUT NO ONE’S EVER MENTIONED THIS GUY.

There are no pictures, obviously, so Steve does a sketch for this historian, because he’s helpful like that and also because.  Like.  Listen.  Steve’s been through a lot of weird shit, and to be sure this Logan he used to know could take a bullet and keep coming no problem, but this dude’s probably been dead fifty or sixty years.  No harm in giving him a little posthumous glory, right?

So this historian runs back to her university and starts doing research on the Internet.  She reaches out to her coworkers first, then to anyone else she knows, then to the premier WWII and Captain America scholars of the world, and asks all of them “Do you happen to know who the fuck this dude is?”

And like, no, they don’t.  They’ve got no idea.  Steve’s not even totally sure what the guy’s real last name was, because Jameson is common as hell and there’s no Logan Jameson on the books.  So they start doing research into this WWII cryptid, and finally they reach an old woman who listens to her grandson’s boyfriend talk passionately about this new project he’s working on and goes “Oh, yeah, I met Cap in Germany one time, there was a guy with him who sounds kind of like what you’re talking about.”

This passionate history major immediately sends an email in all caps to his adviser and it just says “MY BOYFRIEND’S GRANNY KNOWS WHO WE’RE TALKING ABOUT PLEASE COME TO KANSAS ASAP THANKS” or whatever, because, listen, historians are Like That.  Speaking as someone who could easily have claimed to be a history major based on my thesis, I would have gone to Kansas in 0.2 seconds if someone had been like “What’s up we found that book you were after but we can’t take it out of the museum.”  It does stuff to you.  Trust me here.

So this woman tells the story of how Cap and his weird buddy broke her and her mother and father out of a temporary prison camp, and this history professor immediately takes all the tiny bits of information and starts asking around, looking for literally anyone else who knows this Logan dude.  He saved your ass one time in Paris?  He gave you some rations in Berlin?  He beat your grandfather’s ass in Russia?  He took three bullets for you?  You had a passing conversation?  This historian and his extremely pumped undergrad who just changed his senior thesis want to hear about it.

And then someone gets in touch with them and is like “Hey, I know you’re looking for WWII stories, but this guy saved my dad’s entire unit on the Somme and I have pictures?”  And someone else is like “Hey, I have a file from a Vietnam MASH unit for a Logan who looks like that guy, do you want it?”  And someone else is like “Uh, fuck all of y’all, I think this is him in the Civil War, what do I do about that?”

AND SO BEGINS LOGAN, THE HISTORICAL CRYPTID.

This undergrad is taking an extra year of college and basically getting a Bachelor’s degree in Tracking Weird Mutants Through History, and also his adviser is very lucky to be on tenure, because otherwise he would have been laughed out of the college three times by now.  But there is an absolute preponderance of evidence, is the thing, so it just turns into this massive quest to investigate exactly whether or not Logan the Mystery Dude was actually in China for the Boxer Rebellion or whatever.

Forget this being a collaborative effort between colleges, there are multiple continents involved in this by now.  Canadian government is under pressure to turn out their WWII special operations files for this guy from five different big name universities in five different countries, including their own.  Things are getting a little wild in academia.  Steve’s been interviewed nine times and he has a filter set up in his email specifically to catch stuff from the University of Toronto.

It takes a little bit for Kitty’s bubbe to get a phone call.  Kitty’s bubbe has been living a quiet-ass life in Illinois and likes it that way, especially because her last name is not Pryde and therefore Kitty and her weird friends can crash at Bubbe’s house whenever they’re in the area without any trouble.  It’s fine if her granddaughter wants to run around in spandex and save the world and shit, she’s honestly much more chill about it than Kitty’s parents, but Bubbe does not care for news crews in her neighborhood thank you very much.

But so eventually this nice old Ashkenazi woman gets a phone call from an extremely pumped undergrad who read a very brief statement she gave in a news article forty years ago about Captain America, who she is very grateful to for breaking her, her older sister, and their little brother out of a prison camp during WWII and also helping them get across the border.  Did she happen to see anyone else?  Why yes, very polite young man, the Captain had another man with him, he was very grumpy but he let my brother ride on his shoulders so I liked him very much.  That’s great, would she mind if someone came and talked to her about that?  No, very polite young man, not at all, when would work for you?

And she gives Kitty a call that night, because she gives Kitty a weekly call since Kitty and her parents are going through a rough spot to the tune of “please God stop risking your life//listen I’m saving people I’m not going to stop learn to cope”.  Bubbe mentions offhand that she’s going to have a talk with this very polite young historian about the Shoah and Kitty’s understandably a little concerned for her bubbe’s mental health, and asks some questions.  

So Kitty hears her bubbe out in increasing degrees of shock, hangs up the phone, and immediately goes and does an extensive google.

Then she goes and hammers on Logan’s door until he says to come in, slams her computer down in front of him, and says “Holy shit, Logan, why didn’t you tell us that you knew Captain America?”

“Uh, because I mostly didn’t,” Logan says, wary.  “Don’t remember that much.”

“You might want to take a look at this, then,” Kitty says, and Logan looks through her fifteen tabs and thanks her and calls the university that seems best informed.

Which is the story of how an extremely pumped undergrad gets a phone call from the object of his thesis that opens with “This is gonna sound pretty fuckin’ wild, but my name is Logan and I’m pretty sure you can catch me up on the last hundred years better than I can.”

Oh, and then Logan and Steve meet up again and it’s very nice and sweet and that undergrad gets a full ride to the PhD program of his choice.  The full ride’s name is actually Tony Stark, who’s doing a favor for Steve, who’s doing a favor for Logan, who’s secretly doing a favor for the undergrad, but no one really knows that.

[skull-bearer]

Venom fic prompt: being paternal and taking care of their numerous alien goo babies <3

The LIFE foundation building is pitch dark, the lighting’s been off for days, and Eddie doesn’t dare switch on a torch. The whole place is still in lockdown and will be for probably the next few months until the dozens of lawsuits finally pull it down.

But they can’t wait that long. Fuck, but they might already be too late, Venom is a trembling tangle of wretchedness at the back of Eddie’s mind, dread running down his spine like an anxiety attack that doesn’t quite belong to him. “In here?” Eddie whispers, glancing down the empty corridor.

Yes. Even that one word seems to exhaust the symbiote and Eddie feels him dredging up every last reverse to stay here, stay focused. It had taken him too many precious days after the rocket for him to be able to communicate again.

“You should have told me,” Eddie turns down the corridor. Everything’s a blur of grey and blue-black, and finally Eddie gives in and uses his phone as a flashlight, wincing in the suddenly dazzling glare.

Wanted to. Didn’t dare. Forbidden. Riot would have- he can’t quite finish, just a worn-out shudder, too exhausted by terrors to summon up more.

“Okay, fair enough.” Eddie rubs his knuckles over his stomach where- he thinks- Venom is. He hopes he is, anyway. Maybe he can feel the gesture and understand what it means.

Yes. Thank you Eddie. So tired Eddie wishes he could pull Venom in for a hug, but there’s too little of him for that. So much burnt away and what little left huddled inside Eddie for shelter.

Another crossroads. Eddie’s completely lost but that’s fine. Exiot is going to be the same as entrance- through an unguarded window. He waits for Venom to tell him where to go.

But Venom can struggle up the words, instead, he opens his mind to Eddie, a bright, desperate call, like a tug on his brain, thin razorwire wrapped around his heart. Eddie nods, this way.

Through wall after wall of holding cells, a brief stutter as he recognises where they are- God, that was Maria’s cell. They cleared up the glass but the door is still broken where he smashed it. 

It’s a burst of grief, and an answering wretched wave from Venom. He’s sorry. He’s so sorry for Maria but they were both dying, starving together and please Eddie please move he have to go please we have to they’re going to die-

Eddie shakes himself, rubs his stomach again, and keeps going, down behind the gleaming steel and glass facade into the grim concrete and pipes service corridors behind. A cleaner’s cart is abandoned, overturned where the staff must have fled when Drake went berserk. The door of the storage closet is still open, a mop slumped across the corridor-

THERE and Venom is sudden bright and desperate in his head, a deafening roar every bit as loud as he had been before. But Eddie doesn’t need it because he feels it too, the little coils of thought brushing against his, exhausted and cold and frightened and alone oh fuck how long have they been in there-

Eddie crashes into the closet, knocks over a stack of cleaning supplies and falls to his knees, fingers digging across the concrete floor, trying to find- where are they? There must be a crack, a mousehole- something-

There! Oh god there and thank you to whatever anonymous cleaner had left that bucket of filthy water in the corner of the closet. So much of it has evaporated that the kids are huddled at the bottom, struggling to keep covered away from the air that would burn and scorch them and oh thank you thank you-

Eddie doesn’t know how much of the blind, hysterical joy is his or Venoms. He plunges both hands into the bucket and feels the shivering, frightened touch of the little symbiotes. Venom’s kids. The kids he’d struggled to hide from Riot and LIFE and even Eddie and they’re safe, they coil around his hands and huddle inside him as they realise who he is.

“It’s okay.” Eddie chokes, “Plenty of space in here. I got your dad, and we’ve got some rabbits and guinea pigs at home for starter hosts. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Venom doesn’t say anything, he’s beyond thought, coiling over and over the children huddled inside Eddie, shuddering in exhausted joy and sheer shuddering relief.

[nonasuch]

When Meredith Quill was twenty, she fell in love.

“Fear not, my darling,” her angel said before he left, all aglow with heavenly light. “I shall return for you. Never doubt that.”

After he was gone, it was weeks before she stopped seeing sunbursts in the corners of her eyes, weeks before she could look at the night sky without tearing up. But weeks turned into months, and he didn’t come back, and her belly got bigger, and Meredith did her best to get on with her life.

When Meredith Quill was twenty-one, she got abducted by aliens.

“Look, little lady,” said the blue one, who seemed to be in charge, “if you’re gonna spent this trip abusin’ my crew this ain’t gonna be a fun ride for anyone, least of all you.”

“Then your crew better not get fresh again,” Meredith said, glaring, arms crossed protectively over her belly.

“He was installin’ your translator!” the blue one said, and the gnarly-faced fella curled up on the floor moaned affirmatively.

“Well, fine,” said Meredith. “But you could warn a person. I had a bag packed!” She’d packed it first, optimistically, in the days after her angel left, and repacked as the months passed until it was mostly the things she’d need at the hospital. Still, it was the principle of the thing.

Big Blue only rolled his eyes. “We got plenty of supplies on board. Better ‘n anything on that ball of dirt you call a planet.”

“Y’all got maternity clothes?” Meredith asked. “I’m eight months along, regular pants don’t fit so well these days. Not to mention my vitamins, or any baby things at all–”

“Wait,” said Blue. “How long do Terran pregnancies last?”

“‘Bout nine months,” said Meredith, and when he still looked blank, added “Another thirty days, give or take.”

“Damn it all to hell,” said Blue, and then hollered “Kraglin! Go prep a fighter, we gotta fetch the little lady’s luggage!”

“It’s all in the blue duffel in the hall closet,” Meredith told him. “Oh, and bring the milk crate full of records by the couch, while you’re at it. And the turntable.”

[nonasuch]

welp I did have another half a draft of this written, but it was very throughly jossed by the new movie, alas. Here is what I had, though, for posterity:

When Meredith Quill was twenty-two, she stood before a shining palace of crystal and adamantine, under a rose-and-violet sky lit by twin moons and shimmering curtains of stars. She had Peter babbling on her hip and her blue duffel at her feet. She was waiting for her ride.

“You were right,” she said, without preamble, when Yondu landed. “He’s a dick.”

Yondu chuckled. “I warned ya,” he said. “C’mon, I already kicked the boys back out of your bunk.”

Keep reading

[shanastoryteller]

Prince Aladdin

i just rewatched aladdin with the roommates and it got me thinking

aladdin wishes to be made a prince, but all genie does is get him a lot of stuff and money. that’s not what a prince is. a prince is the son of the king, someone in line for the throne. someone with a lot of money is just - rich. so what i think is:

genie goes okay, that’s a big one - and i can do it! but not on my own, not if you want to do it right. not if you truly want a chance to marry your princess for real, as a prince. and aladdin is a foolish, moral, kind boy - and he agrees. he’s fallen in love with jasmine, an innocent all encompassing love, and he’ll do anything for this sweet, clever girl he only knew for a few hours. so genie takes him across the desert, far from agrabah, and plops right in the middle of a skirmish and is like okay, good luck! and aladdin is like ?????

but there’s assholes with swords attacking a young girl, and aladdin doesn’t even have to think about that, just like when he stood in front of the whip for those little kids. there are three men against him, but he’s fast and clever and has been against a dozen trained palace guards. so it’s not easy to get out of there alive, especially with the little girl to protect, but he manages it with only a thin slice on his upper arm, and he’s endured worse for less. so he picks up the little girl and says “i think we should get out of here, hmm?” and she’s in a pretty red silk getup with tiny jewels encrusted on her like stars against sunset. and she nods and throws her arms around his neck. she won’t talk, only points in the direction of home, but aladdin’s okay with that, he’s used to quiet, scared kids. so he keeps up a steady stream of stories of agrabah, which seems almost like this other desert land. but there are more men with swords and aladdin is like what the fuck is going on, but he hides the girl in a corner and fights them too. and that’s how it goes all the way home. there’s no one on the streets really, and they all scatter when the men attack, and they keep on attacking, he fights his way all the way through the city with the girl on his hip or hidden away.

and he should have known, of course, but he was tired and bruised and bleeding by the time he realized the little girl is silently guiding him to the palace and he’s like why can’t you princesses stay inside??? but he walks up and the guards get one look at the child in his arms and whisk him through and multiple people try to take the girl away but she won’t budge from him, a stubborn pout to her lips as her hands remained locked behind his neck. and he’s finally tossed into a throne room where a tall old man is sitting in agony and two young men pace in front of him, each at least a decade older than aladdin. “they’ve taken our sister!” one of the younger men hiss, “i don’t care about their power or their connections, they’ve taken esfir, and we must go get her!”

“uh,” he clears his throat, “hi?”

and all three men whirl on him and the old man stumble-runs to him. esfir finally lets go of aladdin to picked up and twirled around by her father. the two men are rahim and shapur and they look in wonder at this dirty boy of fifteen who’s returned the girl to them, and he speaks with an accent and clearly is not from here and they get the story from him - he’s traveled across the desert because those in his own country want him dead. “you know,” rahim says as the king clutches at esfir in desperate relief, “you could have held her for ransom. you almost died saving her, and we would have paid handsomely to have her returned safely.”

and aladdin gives him a flat disapproving look, appearing in this moment four times his age, and says “people are not objects or bargaining chips. especially not lost little girls.” and rahim and shapur share an impressed conspiring look and they each grab one of his arms and lead him away. “hey! what are you -”

“do be quiet little brother,” shapur says cheerfully, “we really have to get you out of your rags.”

Keep reading

[waterbird13-deactivated20250720]

Tony and Rhodey hid their relationship for years.

Rhodey had a future in the military, was the only place he really wanted to end up, and Tony had Obadiah breathing down his neck about shareholders, so they learned a lot of boundaries. Some things were okay in some spaces. Most spaces, they weren’t.

It was hard, when Rhodey would come home on leave and Tony wanted to kiss him silly, not having seen him in months. A part of him says he shouldn’t be doing that in front of Rhodey’s mom and sister anyways, but, hell, the straight military families are kissing up a storm, and he wants his turn.

It was hard, every time something went indisputably right and Tony just wanted to celebrate. The kind of kiss that leaves you breathless, knocks you off your feet. Shared, private smiles, filled with giddy glee. Instead, he gets private club rooms and strippers and champagne for days, drowning out the want.

It was undeniably hard that moment in the desert, when Tony wants to cry because he tried, he tried to keep hoping and moving, but some part of him worried he’d never see Rhodey again, and here he is, cracking broken jokes about the Fun-vee, and Tony just wants to collapse into him.

It’s hard when he’s dying. Not that Rhodey knows anyways, but Tony spends a lot of time, retooling his will and his legacy as a whole, and Rhodey’s getting stuff, he’s getting a lot, but it’ll be what a best friend gets. Tony will never get to tell the world how much he undeniably absolutely crazily loved James Rupert Rhodes.

February 2011 and Tony’s going to live and they’ve been testing the suits all day, high on adrenaline and giddy joy. Back down to street clothes, they might steal a kiss in plain view of the window. No one knows who started it. A picture gets taken. They can’t see Rhodey’s face, but Tony’s is obvious, and Tony practically ignores his own forcing out of the closet to throw money at lawyers to squash any rumors that the other party is Colonel James Rupert Rhodes.

September 2011, and suddenly the world tilts on its axis. Tony’s elbow-deep in the armor when Rhodey tells him the news. DADT, repealed, it’s official and it’s real and it’s not just talk anymore. And Rhodey gets this look in his eye, the stubborn look people like to pretend he doesn’t have–like Tony’s the only stubborn one–that Tony loves, and says he should set a good example now.

So they go on dates. They go to restaurants and hold hands across the table and Tony doesn’t even bother trying to get them a booth in the back. They go to the Italian bakery and Rhodey smooshes cannoli cream on Tony’s face. They kiss in Central Park and dance together at parties and, finally, next time Tony’s getting honored with an award, he shows up, sober and clean and ready, and reads his acceptance from carefully prepared cards. He’d like to thank his partner, the love of his life, Colonel James Rhodes.

[shanastoryteller]

moana: what happens after

so moana becomes a wayfinder, teaches the lost ways to her people, and becomes chief. she and maui never speak again, because there are rules

they don’t speak for the same reason that the ocean couldn’t just give maui back his hook, for the same reason it couldn’t return the heart itself, for the same reason the ocean couldn’t just simply deliver moana to it’s destination. there is a balance, a give and take, and they must make a decision. they cant talk about this decision of course, but they must make it, so they do. moana sees a red hawk above her for most of her life, but they never speak, never touch.

the ocean never forgets her, never ignores her. it answers her call, loves her, but moana only allows it to move and play with her in the dark of night, where her people cannot see her. she is already a legend, she who fought with maui, who traveled to the land of monsters, who returned the heart of te fiti with her own two hands, who saved the world. many of her people think her adventures a myth, and thats how she wants it - she never speaks of it. she won’t allow them to know how the ocean loves her, for they must follow her because she is their cheif, their master wayfinder, because she can lead them to new lands and new places. she must be followed for what she will do, not what she did.

she travels across the seas, from one end to the other. she starts three more villages, brings her people to new islands flush with greenery and hope and the promise of a future. she learns the earth as well as she knows the sea, because she needs to learn which of these islands can sustain her people, their farming, their building. and she marries. she chooses a man who has broad shoulders and smiles a lot, one who loves the sea. she has three children, and leaves him to raise all of them as she sails to find a new island. she never stops searching the ocean, the wind in her hair, the water below her.

her husband never asks for her heart, and she never gives it. she’s loyal to him, and she brings her people into a new age of discovery and trade. when her eldest son is fully grown, when her hair streaks silver, she steps down and names him chief, allows him to lead their people and does her best not to let her shadow overpower him.

time passes. her husband dies, and she mourns him. her children marry, have children of their own, and each of them love the sea with a ferocity that is born of her blood.

all but one - her eldest child’s eldest child, the girl set to be the next chief, pania

Keep reading

[theladyragnell]

prompt: 5 times Eliot cooked for the team + 1 time they cooked for him :D

1.

“Youknow, we never really got to taste your treats at the wedding,”says Sophie, out for some kind of reaction. Nate’s in the room, soprobably from him. Usually she doesn’t flirt with Eliot this much.

“Imade you all dinner after the wedding.”

“Butwe never got to try any of what you’d been working so hard on.”Sophie looks around for support. “Who else wants to taste Eliot’sdelicious food?”

Parkerseems to live off sugar cereal, so she probably doesn’t really care,but Hardison looks interested, and when he and Sophie start badgeringNate usually gives in to shut them up, and Parker will eat it anyway.Eliot sighs. “It’s notgoing to be a full wedding menu, and I’m not making cake. The onlybaking I do is bread.”

Sophiebeams at him. “I’ll take it. Perhaps we can all have lunch nextweek sometime. Will that be enough time to put together a menu?”

Eliotrolls his eyes. “I think I can manage that.”

Heonly realizes when they’re in the middle of lunch the next week thatit’s the first time they’ve all spent time together outside ofgetting ready for a con or debriefing for one. Judging from how smugSophie looks, she knows too.

Keep reading

[theladyragnell]

prompt: leverage, urban magic au where they all have magical powers

(This kind of turned into Character Study By Way Of Souls but hopefully you enjoy regardless?)

Everybodyowes a piece of their soul to someone.

Peopleare like patchworks, hundreds of little flags planted in them,parents and siblings and boyfriends and girlfriends and bosses andeveryone they’ve got some kind of obligation to.

Parkerdoesn’t know why anyone does it. Archie told her that not everyonecan see it like she does, that it’s just her Talent and everyone ofany worth in their world has one, but still. Don’t they know they’regiving themselves over?

Nobodybut Archie has a stake in Parker’s soul. Nobody owes her theirs. Hetold her that was safer, and Parker is going to believe him becauseif she didn’t believe him she’d maybe want to sign some of her soulaway someday, and the thought makes her feel like someone weighed herdown with a hundred pounds of chains.

*

Keep reading

[theladyragnell]

(I hope I'm not too late for the prompt party...) Could I ask for the Leverage crew in the Never Bitter and All Delicious universe?

1.

Natesometimes has nightmares that he didn’t make the wish.

Hehas nightmares that he’s not a father anymore, not a husband anymore,not the sharpest insurance investigator in the game anymore, notanything that he wasanymore.

Reality,in some ways, isn’t that different from those nightmares. He andMaggie live on opposite ends of the city, and they’re cordial, butnot a lot more than that. Some marriages can take tests well. There’sdidn’t. He left IYS when it wasn’t what helped him in the end.

Butin other ways, it’s different. In reality, Nate has Sam sleeping athis apartment every weekend, getting healthier and healthier,developing an obsession with airplanes that is going to give Nate aheart attack if he goes to aviation school like he’s threatening to.

Inreality, Nate is in charge of starting the Chicago branch of theFairy Godmother Bureau, and he carries a wand in his briefcase.

Theproblem with the office is stashing it. FGB offices, he was told, arealmost always staffed through wishes, and Nate is always on thelookout for wishes but he’s only found three so far that interest himas potential employees and he doesn’t know whether the people willsay yes.

I wish I could havesome kind of team, says one ofthe wishes he’s saved.

I wish I could getout of this life and find something good to do,says another.

I wish this weren’tgetting boring, says the third.

Thereal problem is that all of them are criminals. But then again, whoelse is going to grant wishes? People on the right side of thelaw clearly don’t care about what people want that much.

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[theladyragnell]

can you do identity porn for leverage? like not porn porn specifically, i just absolutely LOVE the drama of people falling in love with each others' alter egos. alternatively, a superhero au? ur my fave anyway omfg ilysm

(Identity porn is one of my favorite things! Sorry if the end of this is a little rushed, I’ve got unexpected plans and I wanted to get this out before they happened.)

Eliot doesn’t readblogs. He doesn’t spend much time on the internet at all—betterthings to do with his time. There are a few of his old buddies wholike to stay in touch, and a few burner e-mails are safer than along-term phone, so he likes to have a connection, but he doesn’tsurf around looking for something to waste his time unless he’strying to put people around him at ease.

He finds Casing theWorld when he’s on a stake-out in a coffee shop with a nosy older mansitting near him, peering at his screen like maybe Eliot’s one of thethree aspiring novelists sitting around in the shop. It’s a stupidblog title, but it came up when he searched for landmarks inIstanbul, the first thing that came to mind, and once he startsreading, it’s interesting.

The first entry hefinds is a bunch of beautiful pictures of the Hagia Sofia and a fewother landmarks, taken from unexpected angles that Eliot is almostsure mean the photographer wasn’t in the public parts, and a long andtechnical explanation about how people would have broken inthroughout history. It’s accurate enough to make him look at anotherentry, and another.

They’re all tooaccurate—mostly, they focus on historical ways of doing crime, butsome of them are close to a blueprint for a break-in, and Eliot isamazed the author hasn’t been arrested yet.

Eventually, he findsthe first entry, where the blogger, who only gives her name as P,says her boyfriend set her up with the blog, and links over toanother one.

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[juststaticontheline]

"One cannot have a marriage carried on by letter." "It would make the production of children somewhat more difficult," Bingley agreed. Instead of laughing, as Bingley had intended for him to do, Ashbourne looked at him in horror. "How am I ever going to consummate the marriage?" Bingley stared at him. "If that is a question of mechanics, I am leaving."

Charles Bingley by sixbeforelunch (Pride & Prejudice AU)

Bingley has (for reasons that will become apparent later) taken employment as a servant at Longbourn. 

Beautifully written with wonderful depth to the characters. P&P is not something I’d normally read fanfic of, but I’m glad I made the exception.

[lullabyknell]

An Episode VII: The Force Awakens fanfic about Stormtroopers.

The story they hear is that of FN-2187. He’s a defector – a traitor to the First Order. He’s not the first, nor will he be the last, and the First Order expects to retrieve him and end him quickly. But that’s not what happens. The only thing Stormtroopers own are stories.

AO3

[t334-deactivated20170318]

CONSIDER: An au where Spock’s family is sent into the past, Sarek, Sybok, Amanda AND Spock through some freak accident, but cannot fix the ship (which was damage after landing on Earth) that sent them there.

They are stuck with “twigs and rocks” as far as technology goes for shaping the tools of the 21st century, and so fixing their ship is going to be a trying but not impossible endeavor. Keeping the future in tact and getting back to it is the ultimate goal, as well as making themselves as faded into the backgrounds of human society as possible: which, even for Amanda, is proving to be a most difficult task for the alien family (Three of which cannot tell lies and may undergo pon farr regardless of whether or not it is timely.)

It only gets worse when their new neighbors get nosy and try to force their way into the homestead they have claimed (probably through squatting) through the guise of pleasant neighborly welcomes, bearing apple pies and dessert foods. Social cues indicate that both Spock and Sybok resemble an age in which either should be in some type of schooling system should the familyswish to avoid drawing the attention of the law, and to say the least it’s a mind numbing ordeal to have to sit through lectures that will eventually be proven incorrect, and a headache enducing one not to correct the lectures themselves.

Bonus points if the Kirks are their neighbors or something, and Jim takes an interest in the family and their ever prominent attachment to hats, and beanies. I mean, “Seriously, Bones, do you think they all suffer premature balding? No, I think I saw Spock with a headband once… but his hair looked way too, I don’t know, silky to be real? Maybe it was a wig…do you think?” - “Why don’t you just ask him and stop blubbering to me about the skinny bastard? Did you know his brother’s in most of my courses? Had the damned audacity to assume we’d be buddy buddy because…”

Extra bonus if both/either Sarek or Amanda have to maintain a silly 21st century job to establish an income.

EXTRA EXTRA BONUS POINTS IF JIM FINDS OUT SPOCK’S AN ALIEN AT SOME POINT AND PROMISES NOT TO TELL ANYONE BECAUSE WHAT IF SOMEONE TRIES TO DISSECT HIM?: SPOCK’S TOO CUTE WITH HIS POINTY GREEN TINTED EARS AND THE WAY HE TILTS HIS HEAD JUST SO WHEN HE’S CONFUSED, AND OH MY GOD, SPOCK IS ALWAYS SO ADORABLY CONFUSED, AND EVEN THE MORE “COLORFUL” LANGUAGE THAT JIM TRIES TO TEACH HIM EARLIER TO HELP BLEND HIM TO THE CROWD, WHEN PRACTICED, SEEMS SO FOREIGN ON HIS TONGUE. AND SPOCK HAS A HABIT OF PRETENDING NOT TO SHIVER WHEN JIM TAKES HIS HAND IN HIS OWN, AND HE BLUSHES SUCH A PRETTY OFF-WHITE GREEN TONE WHICH NO ONE WOULD OTHERWISE NOTICE IF THEY WEREN’T STARING AT SPOCK AS CURIOUSLY AS JIM DOES, AND HOW COULD JIM EVER TELL ANYONE THAT SPOCK’S THIN FRAME IS SO POWERFUL HE CAN LIFT CARS WITHOUT BREAKING A SWEAT BECAUSE HE’S NOT HUMAN WITHOUT COMING OFF AS CRAZY ANYWAY? AND ALSO, SPOCK DOESN’T SWEAT AT ALL WHICH IS APPARENTLY AN ALIEN THING?

This post was supposed to be a joke based off of Phil of the Future but I’m really into this au now.

[sofluffygonnadieeee]

+jim is concerned about spock because sometimes he looks so awkward. lke,  he doesn’t know how to eat bananas…or other earth fruits..

 kirk: my cute alien neighbors could be kidnapped! dissected! drugged!

why there is no more of these AU?!?!? T0T

this AU is so goodd @t334

[petimetrek]

Obviously Amanda would get a job as a teacher at the school Spock goes, to make sure he’s fine. Sarek would probably be an electricist or a computer technician, because working for NASA would be too dangerous, right?

Amanda cursing in different alien languages when she gets frustrated because kids can’t hear that kind of words.

Sarek making friends at work (against all odds) and they inviting the couple to dinner. Sarek horrified with barbeques and seeing people eating with their hands.

Sybok joining the art club.

The family adopting a huge dog because they miss I-Chaya….

[t334-deactivated20170318]

INHALES, OKAY SO I INITIALLY REBLOGGED JUST THE TOP ONE WITH AN ADD ON, BUT NOW i NEED TO ADD ON AGAIN

I’M SCREAMING, GOD BLESS YOU BOTH SO MUCH FOR THESE ADDITIONS

It would be very easy for Spock to become exposed to tell you the truth, I mean he blushes green, has pointed ears, and his heart bumps on the side of his chest, so Jim would have to be diligent in his efforts to keep his alien neighbors from being found out.

I wonder if Sarek, Amanda, or Sybok would ever warm up to Jim? I know sure as hell though, Sarek will at least be vulcan pissed that someone found out they’re aliens. But would the beans be spilled that they’re from the future, too? Probably not unless Spock specifically tells him so.

I feel like Jim would half expect Amanda to be an alien too, but then she laughs and giggles along with him, and assures him that no, she’s human too.

I feel like Jim WOULDN’T REALLY BELIEVE HER THOUGH. ESPECIALLY GIVEN THAT SHE VULCAN CURSES IN FRONT OF THE CLASS.

Anyway, look at this family??? Would you invite them to dinner? I would…

I would draw more but I’m about to pass out. So, god bless you both again. <3

@sofluffygonnadieeee @petimetrek

[petimetrek]

LOOK AT SYBOK!!

[sofluffygonnadieeee]

I WOULD!!!! I would invite them!!!! 

but to them it’d be just like ‘can your pet’ game!  <link: can your pet reaction video

in future, even on earth killing animal to get food is not common. why kill chicken when you can replicate it? so it’s really shocking when they see ‘real’ chicken barbecue. Sarek and Amanda would probably ate something like this before because of embassy works. but to Sybok and Spock it would be nightmare!

by the way sybok’s hoodie is totally in character because he’s rebel???

if wind blows strong it could reveal his ears! he’ll be careful not to reveal his ears, but Sarek would be upset about hoodie

and since Spock doesn’t have gameboy thingy (because playing game is illogical in vulcan …etc) Jim would give him Nintendo to watch Spock blush & say ‘fascinating’!!!

thank you for uploading more! @petimetrek @t334

[petimetrek]

Also:

Someone had to draw the little I-Chaya (he’s a boerboel btw)

[fireandwonder]

Somewhere in the Leverage universe, there is a conspiracy theorist trying to prove that a certain minor league baseball player, a Canadian hockey player, and an American country music singer are all the same person. They have a file with various news printouts, and keep trying to upload them to a website, but every time they do, the site mysteriously crashes, threads go missing on discussion boards, and all electronic records of this man have simply vanished.

[sanerontheinside]

Three years later a man comes to Portland and settles down in this brewery, cuz somebody said it wasn’t a half-bad place to get food. And then he sees the chef. 

[copperbadge]

Turns out he’s a half-decent researcher and very good at finding people who desperately need help, and he eventually gets hired as a “marketing associate” for the pub.

[sci-fantasy]

The order’s wrong. He gets a job offer from Leverage International, that’s why he goes to Portland in the first place.

He doesn’t understand why they picked a brewpub for the interview (and what the hell is up with the house beer? Weird name, weirder flavor, but the server just smiles and says it’s an acquired taste and he may want to start acquiring it…), until the chef is his second interview of three.

[copperbadge]

“I wasn’t even looking for a job,” Bobby said, checking to make sure his charging cords were all secure in the flap of the laptop carry-on case as they pulled up to the airport drop-off zone. “I’m still not sure it’s not a scam.”

“Lot of effort to go to for a scam,” his sister pointed out, deftly flinging the car across three lanes to try and get a good spot at the curb. 

“I mean I guess even if it is a scam they paid for my flight out to Portland. I hear it’s a nice town.”

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