IF YOUR ART GETS STOLEN

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"Okay, let's go steal the Magisterium."

~

leverage s3 & his dark materials s1 ; alec hardison/parker/eliot spencer ; multichapter ; rated T.

part four: in which there is a little illumination, but not enough.

...

I

thank you

god i just lose my mind over sansa sometimes. she was just 11 — isolated in a strange place, neglected by her father and her septa, her precious direwolf unfairly executed, given confusing signals about who she is to marry, then after a failed coup her father lead, despite pleading for his life on her knees in front of  the entire court, was witness to his beheading. most 11 year olds are brats under the best of circumstances, let alone under those circumstances. but sansa rises above. she’s a kind little girl that survives constant terror and abuse through her cleverness, perceptiveness, and deep reserve of inner strength and compassion. though she may use another name, she knows deep down know she is, using that name – STARK – like a lodestone in her heart. where no one can see. for a lady’s armor is her courtesy

idk i love the way grmm has flipped the princess under captivity trope. sansa is not a passive subject, she spends her time in kings’ landing calculating risks (who is safe to trust, who is one of cersei’s/varys’/littlefinger’s spies), and creating alibis (constant prayers in the godswood). she muses that love is the best way to a people’s loyalty, and this thought persists despite the ‘wisdom’ of her teachers. when she becomes the lady of winterfell, it’s straight to work preparing for the winter – she’s learned from her unscrupulous mentors about the logistics, but the heart of that is that these are the smallfolk of the north, and they must be fed, they must be clothed, they must be armed for the coming struggle and she will see to it herself. though she has become wary and shrewd, constantly gaging men’s intentions, she has lost none of what made her such a precious character* – her heart. her kindness is now tempered by all that she’s suffered, she wears it like a cloak  – not the pain, but the victory. i’ve come this far, she must think. and i have far to go. 

*for people like me. i’m a big mushball crybaby and spend 90% of my time on this earth reading, i love to play music, and honestly if i lived in some quasi medieval world i would be all over those awesome dresses. not gonna lie)

chapter 15 for climbing to the light is up!

we’re on a mission from God. we’ve got a full timeline of the beauxbatons au valvertine fic mapped out from january 1971 through to halloween 1981, got fourteen chapters already out, three chapters fully outlined, it’s dark, and we’re wearing sunglasses.

hit it.

The Three Musketeers (1993)

rolls up a year and a half late with starbucks and part one of the kaysanova getting-together fic series, in which nicky develops a conscience and absolutely no one gets together except to kill each other some more

A Girl Worth Fighting For

Combeferre still didn't have a mistress. Something Joly and Courfeyrac were intent on changing.

"Come on, Combeferre, I'm sure there's some girl out there who's just as smart as you are," Joly said, tugging at his arm. "Come to the theater with us. She'll be there. Whoever she is."

"She'll have glasses and a stiff posture and like to draw butterflies," said Courfeyrac, grinning. "And she'll love to discuss drama and philosophy. And you'll find her at Hernani, please, my friend, join us. You won't regret it."

Combeferre adjusted his glasses and harrumphed a little.

"Please?" said Joly.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll go see Hernani with you. But I tell you, this Romantic business of Hugo's is best left to Prouvaire."

i know you didn't list it buuuut hardison/parker/eliot + 🎵?

“Can You Feel The Love Tonight” - Elton John

There’s a time for everyone if they only learn

That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn

There’s a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors

When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours

-

Eliot is used to Parker showing up on cat feet. There’s only one time she’s ever been able to startle him, and that was in Memphis; but it’s been a good three years since then, and a lot of the things that were messy then are tidy now. Not normal-person tidy – that ain’t the way Parker works, and it ain’t the way Hardison works – but tidy in a way that suits all three of them. An Arrangement with a capital letter.

So when Parker shows up on cat feet tonight while Eliot is in the middle of peeling potatoes for dinner, Eliot doesn’t grumble or snap. He only turns his head briefly to kiss her cheek.

“So if this is a parallel universe, what do you think it’s a parallel of?” says Parker.

Eliot finishes up his current potato and reaches for the next one. Just like he doesn’t startle when she pops up out of nowhere, he doesn’t protest her non sequitur of a question. “You and Hardison been watching more of that History Channel?”

“Just to yell at it.”

“You break the tv, I ain’t buying you a new one, Parker.”

Her nose scrunches. Even without looking, he knows the expression she’s got on right now. “Why would you ever buy a tv when you can steal it?”

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