#craaaaack

[ch1pj4ck]

Chipjack got rid of his nose in the same energy he had when he dyed his hair black to not be associated with other addisons, clearly he had to take much more drastic measures the second time around

edit: also makes him look less like NEO too, that thing that attacked cyber city only some two years ago

[lightneverfades]

Talk dirty to me 😏😏😏

[mcshep-everyday]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stargate Atlantis Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, Evan Lorne/David Parrish Summary:

Look at the goddamn title

[ctimenefic]

Wriiiite iiiiit, Daredevil crackfic is my fav

Why the hell not. Right, here’s some words of Central Park living statue rivalry.

“Hey. Hey. This is my patch, dude.”

It’s six am, early enough that the morning is still cool and crisp in the park and Foggy can feel grateful for the warmth of his costume. He’s a little bleary-eyed still, which maybe why he gets all the way to the Maria Stark memorial bench before he notices the guy set up in his spot.

It’s a living statue, clearly going for a ninja aesthetic, posing on one leg on a thin pole that looks — and the key to these things is always looks — unsupported. It’s a decent rig, but Foggy’s seen similar before. Never on his patch though.

“Hey,” he says again. Unsurprisingly, the guy doesn’t so much as blink. Foggy is not impressed. “Dude, some professional courtesy, please, I know you can see me.”

“I really can’t,” the guy says, before looking like he regrets the slip. But, in for a penny: “And I’m not professional either. This is my first day.”

“Really.” Foggy doesn’t believe it for a hot second. Well, maybe the can’t see thing - guy is wearing a blindfold. And making an opaque blindfold is kind of a rookie error. But he’s still in Foggy’s spot, so he’s not really feeling like a one-man park performer welcoming committee.

The guy sighs and breaks pose, holding out his hand to shake. His balance on the pole doesn’t shift an inch, which confirms Foggy’s suspicions. “I’m Matt, I’m new and I really can’t see you. Check under the bag.”

Foggy shakes, gingerly, as much as he can in costume, and then lifts the leather satchel Matt’s left out for tips. Underneath is a white cane. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. That’s- Is that safe?” He gets a flash of bared teeth that he probably deserves.

“I can handle myself.”

“Sure, except your bag is gonna get stolen in five seconds — this is way too nice, pick something crappy, dude. Wait, I’ve got a spare tin, gimme a sec.” He roots around in his own beat up backpack and produces his old collecting tin, before he upgraded to the ever-hip mason jar. “Here, this stops people swiping cash and dipping in for change. This is a good patch but you get a lot of assholes, you know?” Foggy very charitably does not add ‘like you, thief’ to the end of that sentence.

Matt smirks. “I’d like to see them try.” He stretches his arms up and his black shirt rides up an inch or two, revealing abs that look much less painted on than they should. The cool morning suddenly feels a lot warmer.

“Right, well, if you’re all set and fine in my patch, I guess I’ll go round to the bandstand. Holler if if something goes wrong, the park cops are mostly decent but there’s some exceptions. Ask for Brett Mahoney, if you have any trouble.” Not for the first time, Foggy realises he’s being too nice for his own good, so he follows it up with a scowl. A scowl Matt can’t see, great thinking, brilliant.

“Brett Mahoney. That’s your real name?”

“No, that’s a cop, a friend of mine. I’m Foggy.”

“No, really? I thought that had to be a stage name.”

Now, six am isn’t his natural peak, but Foggy isn’t slow. Matt’s seen his act. Matt’s scoped his patch. And now Matt has stolen it. He slams on the head of his costume and once it’s safely on mutters, “Asshole,” under his breath.

Clearly he’s not quiet enough, because Matt’s laugh follows him as he stomps down the path to the clearing by the bandstand. It used to be Marci’s spot, but she’s moved onto brighter things, so he doesn’t have to squabble for it. He sets out his jar, stows his bag in a bush, and waits.

Seven am rolls round with the dog walkers, who get jaunty waves if they look run down. A couple shove a spare dollar or two in his tin, but most think of him too much as part of the scenery to bother.

No, it’s not until eight or so that his fans start rolling in — tourists on European time and parents up early with the summer sun. All thoughts of assholes and patches and Marci melt away the moment he hears the first shout:

“Mom, Mom, look, it’s Foggy Bear!”

(To be continued, at some point)

[witchamania]

“I’ve apparently adopted my roommate... As such--”

“If anyone lays a finger on her without her permission I’ll stab you in the eye.”

[undefinable-like-fire-archive]

[i should be working out or doing something constructive with my day off but no i’m sitting here working on my celebrity impressions and attempting to get leonard snart’s voice down 

this is why i’m single and living with my parents]

[snkception]

Crack Theories Week: Ackerman Monday

The thing about the Ackermans is: they’re amazing supersoldiers… but not all of them happen to profit from this genetic quirk. There are Ackermans who experience the Awakening and proceed to achieve ultimate fighting badassery, but there are also Ackermans who scrape by as normal humans, no matter how dire their circumstances get.

Some are Kenny, some are Kuchel. Some are Mikasa, some are her dad.

And you could say that it’s just because some of them don’t get the chance for their powers to unlock. Like, maybe they just never encounter the battle circumstances that are needed for it, don’t get the push for their will to surge and flick that switch inside their brains.

But here’s a much more likely explanation: everyone who gets special powers is in fact possessed by the ghost of the First Ackerman.

The First Ackerman was the first of their line to get these amazing skills, and, like the Reiss powers and the coordinate, his fighting abilities are passed down from generation to generation. The Reiss coordinate holders inherit the memories of their ancestor. The powerful Ackermans don’t inherit the memories of the First Ackerman, but they inherit his powers. It’s a convenient way to share family love that doesn’t involve snacking on your relatives! The Ackermans have it much better than the Reisses.

And this is, in fact, the source of their discord. The Reisses have always been mildly jealous of the fact that the Ackermans have their inheritance deal unlocked in a far less traumatic fashion, but for a long time they were willing to put up with it just for how useful the Ackermans were. One doesn’t, after all, alienate one’s supersoldier subjects.

And that went well… until the day when the ghost of the First Ackerman just buggered off and didn’t haunt a whole bunch of the king’s special elite forces. This coincided with the First King building the wall and putting humanity inside it. The First Ackerman just didn’t feel the wall thing, you know? He wasn’t down for it. So he just kind of… didn’t turn up for a while.

This was a source of major embarrassment for the Ackerman clan, and it made the Reisses realize that this was their time to strike in a way the Ackermans couldn’t retaliate against.

So the Ackermans went down. Hard.

When the ghost of the First Ackerman returned, he was like, I leave you guys for five minutes and my whole family’s in shambles, what the hell. So he got back into the business of haunting those of the Ackermans who were showing signs of promise, and he’s planning to stick it out until the end now.

Because no one puts his Ackerman babies in the corner.

[sonoftheforce-achieved-blog]

New Jedi Order au when Padme and Obi-Wan marry

Anakin: