Leverage: Supers

thelogicalghost:

They don’t have superpowers. They don’t. Or at least, they don’t have super powers.

Sure, Nate jokes that he’s psychic. It’s a con he’s played on more than one mark, not counting the times Sophie (or, memorably, Tara) picked up the role. The rumors of precognition floated around him as an investigator no matter how much he insisted otherwise. As his reputation as a thief grew, so did the rumors. Being assumed as a seer of some kind has been a help as much as a hindrance, really, but it deters more trouble than it attracts, so Nate’s let the rumor lie.

But there are times, once in a while, when Nate pauses. His voice will get raspy. Usually it’s just a word: duck, stop, run, wait. The team has learned that you don’t argue when he uses that voice, because he’s always right, and it’s saved their lives more than once. Nate calls it a feeling, or an instinct, and then changes the subject. One time, when he was drunk and pressed, he slurred, “It didn’t save my son.” After that, they stopped asking.

Sophie isn’t actually a shapeshifter, not like in that 1970’s footage of the person changing, one face after another sliding across their body like a slideshow. They know Sophie can’t do that, because she’s a good liar but they know she cares, and if she could do that, she would have, when they were in a few tight spots where a change of face would have stopped the violence.

But there’s something just slightly too good about her performances, sometimes. Even though it’s her skills that sell it, her features never betray her. Her skin is always just enough of the right shade. Her eyes are always just close enough to the right shape. It could be written off as the mind playing tricks, except that Hardison keep having to update his facial analysis algorithms, because they keep getting Sophie wrong. People who have met her before swear they haven’t, and vice versa.

Eliot is easy to pin down, if harder to prove. It’s just not natural for anyone to take that much damage and never need a hospital. He always waves it off, insists it’s not as bad as it looks, but that doesn’t explain why he has smooth skin in places where he absolutely should have scars, given the injuries he’s acquired during their work.

One day Hardison cracks the right server and finds a photo he recognizes on a list in a military database. After that, he notices the way Eliot reacts to mentions of super soldiers and government experiments. It’s subtle. It could be mistaken for the general dislike many army grunts have of superheroes, if he didn’t know better.

Parker also has instinctive reactions, though she denies them even while tensing, just enough for her teammates to notice, around large men in lab coats when they tower over her, around needles and syringes. She doesn’t know why because she was far too young to remember anything before the endless foster homes.

When she trusts them, eventually, they get glimpses of Parker dislocating joints that shouldn’t be able to dislocate and popping them back into place without blinking or bruising. It’s a bit too much for even the most limber double-jointed acrobats. Hardison thinks of cats, who can fold their collarbones to fit through tight spaces, and deliberately does not go looking for Parker’s past.

And Hardison? Hardison doesn’t think he has anything at all above baseline. Sure, he’s always talked to his tech. He names his computers, the vans, the robots. He whispers soothing encouragements or desperate pleas off-mic. Like any good programmer, he’s irrationally superstitious, but he doesn’t really, logically, objectively think much of it, until the day when Parker thrusts her phone in his face, cracked and probably irreparably dead, and tells him to ask it to turn on for just a bit longer so they can call for help.

He does. It does. Parker seems completely unsurprised. Haridison starts being more aware of how he talks to things, starts leaning how to feel the connections that he’s been tapping into unconsciously his whole life.

They don’t have superpowers. But then again, none of them ever claimed to be normal.

 

dragonsthough101:

Oh wow this is amazing!!!

 

gingersnapwolves:

3fc27c6bef1c46a53677087d43a9e06341ed7fc1

Tags:

#Leverage #fanfic #I don’t actually go here but I like this

goddamnshinyrock:

Aziraphale can manifest a halo, which he mostly uses as a reading light

 

demonic-mnemonic:

He would

 

all-the-usernames-are-gone:

The halo isn’t really a ring halo either, just like Crowley doesn’t have horns. Instead, his entire head lights up like a glowstick.

Either that or no matter what angle you look at it it’s always behind his head like this:

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Like Mickey Mouse’s ears.

 

echoing-artemis:

I blew the dust off my tumblr and dug out this post (which I originally saw on Instagram) just so I could say thank you for inspiring this ridiculousness.

Crowley likes to sleep, Aziraphale likes to read. A bed is comfy for both of these things, so sharing works. Usually.

After all, Aziraphale was just enough of a bastard to be worth liking. <3

229fa327fa8024e6df93b3b6e3c9f38cef6c7c27
87aa256e0fbafa38a9bda9e9d84c4419eadbea29
2a41ebf127027e34d6a82453ef73dc2241bfa52d
560109cc21edddb39bbe5d7262edb3d4b67d8ab3
3be53fa77931529ca619e3c769d968a87ae77d3b
f663f4001aa44a95ec0b467d698460b9e2c87639
7ea53cc93207d9b6a681bf5d88d37c46b27679e0

because honestly you guys were exactly right

(more nonsense over at Ineffable Wives on Insta)

 

goddamnshinyrock:

holy shit this is the best possible addition to my post, this cosplay is amazing


Tags:

#cosplay #Good Omens #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #headcanons #fanfic

{{previous post in sequence}}


nikkifromtabs:

i wish i was capable of writing narratively because there is absolutely a fanfiction wanting to exist where the crew of ds9 collectively comes to the agreement that “wormhole aliens” is a really shitty and disrespectful way to refer to your coworker’s sincerely held religious beliefs re: her gods so the bulk of the episode has all non-bajorans randomly trying on different ways to refer to them without saying they are gods because starfleet has a stick up its ass about admitting any given religion can be provably correct. episode ends with an exasperated kira telling everybody that wormhole aliens is way better than anything theyve come up with so please just drop it

the comedy b-plot is odo futilely trying to recycle the euphemisms into explaining to weyoun that he’s not divine and the Founders are not infallible, but it’s small versus far away and weyoun just cant grasp it


Tags:

#oh look an update #story ideas I will never write #Star Trek #DS9 #language #embarrassment squick

sigmaleph:

lavellanlove:

So is it just me, or does every new owner of Tumblr getting announced feel like we’re getting a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?

gods i hope the only thing wrong this time will be ‘secretly a werewolf’


Tags:

#The Great Tumblr Apocalypse #Harry Potter

elucubrare:

doppelgender:

I have the ability to speak to shrimps (Shrimpathy). unfortunately this does not allow them to respond or understand what im saying

GLENDOWER
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
HOTSPUR
Why, so can I, or so can any man;
But will they come when you do call for them?


Tags:

#shrimp #fun with loopholes

The Fungus That Turns Ants Into Zombies Is More Diabolical Than We Realized

{{Title link: https://gizmodo.com/the-fungus-that-turns-ants-into-zombies-is-more-diaboli-1820301538 }}

skitter-queen:

bogleech:

Science wasn’t actually certain how fungi like cordyceps “hijacked” their host’s behavior, and we always kind of assumed it was causing some relatively simplistic damage to the brain, but now it seems the truth is much more like all the dramatized versions of it in sci-fi horror.

These fungi integrate themselves on the cellular level with the host’s tissues all throughout their body, actually seem to send signals to the host’s muscles and even alter the host’s genes with their own.

And all the while, it turns out THE BRAIN ISN’T TAKEN OVER AT ALL.

These fungi, all along, have been converting their hosts into animal-fungal hybrids they control while the host’s brain and consciousness remain helplessly alive and largely unaltered.

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Tags:

#ants #bugs #body horror #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #(the button meme) #Wildbow

writing-prompt-s:

You turn on the radio one morning to find another one of those Rap songs where every 4th word is a swear. Naturally the Radio bleeps it out, but you realize that it sounds familiar. You realize that the rappers are speaking in Morse code.

 

dailylexiconic:

Your eyes widen as you swerve over onto the shoulder of the expressway, nearly hitting a Jeep Cherokee in the process. It didn’t matter to you. Frantically searching the glove compartment, the backseat, and your purse, you finally find a small notepad and a pen with a low ink cartridge. You listen closely to the radio, and begin to scribble down as much as you can. You realize it was merely a pattern.

— -. . / – .– — / – .– — / ..-. .. ..-. – -.–

Unfortunately for you, you aren’t very well versed in translating Morse code, merely recognizing it. You reach into your purse to grab your phone, but after a moment of searching, you realize you had left it at home before you left for work. “God damnit,” you mutter. You’re more than halfway to your office, and you’re already running late due to the fact that that you decided to follow some whim and jot down some cryptic message from a provocative rapper. Concluding that it would probably be best for you to mosey to work, you pull back onto the expressway and try to make it to work on time.

Upon arriving at work, you ask any coworker in sight if they know Morse code. Nobody seems to, and some don’t even know what Morse code is. You slump your shoulders in disappointment and head over to your desk, when suddenly, the quiet, mouse-like secretary clears her throat and says, “Excuse me, I know Morse code!”

You turn around with the same wide eyes as before. “You do!?” you ask vigorous excitement, which seems to startle the young woman.

“Yes,” she says, “when I was younger, I planned on joining the navy, so I taught it to myself.” You feel a bit sorry for her, that she wound up as a mere secretary instead of a naval officer, but that feeling of pity didn’t stop you from being grateful for the lucky coincidence of her knowing Morse code. You show her the pattern.

— -. . / – .– — / – .– — / ..-. .. ..-. – -.–

“That’s all there is?” she asks, furrowing her brow.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “it just kept repeating that over and over again. What does it say?”

“One, two, two, fifty.”

Your heart sinks a little. “What is that? What does that mean, is it like a phone number or house address or something?”

The secretary shrugs. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know. It’s too short to be a phone number, but beyond deciphering it, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

You nod slowly, and though you understand, you are still not at all satisfied. You go to sit at your desk. 1 2 2 50. The sequence plays over and over in your head all day, and needless to say, your curiosity an wonderment got the best of you. It was not a very productive work day.

You head home, and the same damned song plays on the radio. You shake your head as if that would make the song stop, then decide to plug 12250 into your GPS to see if there are any autofill results. None. You become increasingly frustrated.

When you get home, your daughter is sitting at the kitchen table, working on homework. She runs up to you and gives you a big hug, and asks about your day at work. You put on a fake smile and sigh. “Interesting,” you say— no doubt sugarcoating the intense excitement, disappointment, and confusion.

“Will you help me with my homework? I have to memorize something for my history class tomorrow.”

“Of course, doll! What are you memorizing?”

She hands you a laminated sheet of paper. “Roman numerals!”

You glance over the page, your eyes quickly darting from one, to two, to fifty.

It dawns on you. You’d recognize this pattern anywhere.

I II II L

 

xakumi:

MOTHERFUCKER

 

qlassnebulae:

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

 

gehayi:

For those like me who read this and who had no fucking clue what the point was, here is the explanation. (Apparently you have to know a certain meme well for this to make sense.)

 

kai-skai:

@itsbenedict I was surprised this wasn’t your post (or at least your reblog)

 

itsbenedict:

well that is MAYBE because i have a shred of COMMON DECENCY


Tags:

#storytime #oh my god #loss.jpg