#⤷ file / alec hardison.

[aardvaark]

i was thinking about how i wished leverage had a birthday episode for some of the characters cause that would be sweet, but then i realised something and basically…. okay here’s my thoughts in quotes form, just for fun

hardison: so when’s your birthday? i could plan something for us and the team to do and-

parker: i dont know

hardison: you don’t know… your own birthday?

parker: no, how would i know? pshh, cmon, you’re telling me you remember EXACTLY when you were born? watch this - hey, eliot, do you know your exact birth date?

eliot, innocently passing by, who was canonically anonymously dropped off at a hospital as an infant: no, how would i know?

parker: that’s what i said!

hardison: excuse me?? what is going on right now

sophie, walking into the apartment: whats wrong?

hardison: parker and eliot- well, okay, when’s your birthday? i just have to prove something.

sophie: …….july 12th

hardison: why did you pause? wait, is that your birthday or sophie devereaux’s birthday?

sophie: ………… (guilty silence)

parker: see, no one knows their real birthday! haha you’re so weird sometimes, hardison

hardison:

hardison: what the fuck guys

[werewolfsmile]

"I mean, there are forks."

Short little crack vid that was originally just gonna be a gif but then I started working on it and this video happened instead lol. Enjoy.

[Watch on Youtube]

Bonus gif of this scene because I love it so much:

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 7-8

Around this point I actually read back and asked myself, "Is this moving too fast?" Then I remember the speed at which a Leverage episode actually moves and the kind of beating Harry usually picks up each book, and went, "Nah."

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Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42

SEVEN

The divide between magic and technology is a known quantity. Every wizard knows to stay away from most mechanical things; the more complex they are, the more likely they were to break. The more powerful the wizard, the quicker it was gonna happen. Even knowing these things, I hadn't realized how deep that boundary ran until I tried to find out anything about my prospective employers.

If it had been a magical entity, a spell, an artifact, between Bob and I we could have probably found out at least the basics, but Bob couldn't find out anything about the Leverage people. I wasn't crazy enough to try and scry something in Boston, never mind the range.

All I could tell was that Leverage was, apparently, a purely mundane affair. Based in Boston as they were I didn't doubt they'd run themselves into something other that the average human, but as the afternoon dragged on I began to realize I was going to have more luck finding out what, rather than getting any sort of information on whatever Deveraux and Ford actually had going on.

A smart man would have said no on principle. What little I could find out told me that if things had gotten so bad that an entirely non-magical outfit like Leverage had come looking for a wizard, then they were bad enough that walking away unscathed to enjoy that absurdly large paycheck was not guaranteed. Not even 50/50 odds.

But 50/50 was still better than no odds at all.

And I hadn't lied when I told Deveraux that I'm a curious man.

She'd written a number on the back of the card. Not a hotel, so they could have been anywhere. I eyed it while I called Butters and asked him to look after Mister while I was away. Then I called it.

"Harry." Deveraux actually sounded happy to hear me; it was refreshing.

"Train. The older the better," I told her. "That applies to any tech you want near me, too. Mouse comes with me."

"Yes, of course."

"The daily fee is… good." My voice cracked a bit despite my best attempt at sounding like it was not a holy-heck amount of money. I cleared it. "It's good. But I can't go longer than a week. One week and I'm coming back home, even if your problem's not solved."

"That's fine."

"And I need a basement."

"A b… A basement?"

"It's contained in case something bad happens."

"Ah." The fact she didn't ask questions told me containment was a common concern in both her line of work and mine. "Anything else?"

"I can't think of anything off the top of my head. I'm sure something will come up." Something did almost immediately. "A full briefing as soon as I'm there. No secrets, no lies. If I find out you've lied to me, I'll leave."

"We'll tell you as much as we know," she assured me, and I found myself believing her. "Welcome to the team, Harry."

It felt weird to be welcomed, to be made to feel as if I were part of a team that actually wanted me there. "When do you think you'll have everything ready?"

There was laughter in her tone. "When do you think you'll be packed?"

Three hours later I was at Union Station, being escorted off the oldest VW minibus in existence and onto a rail car that apparently I had all to myself, like something out of an Agatha Christie book. I'd packed Bob, my tools, a quick-spell kit, any books I thought might help, and a change of clothes. Mouse looked mournfully at me as the train began to move, and I couldn't blame him; it felt as if I were leaving a piece of myself behind.

I knew Chicago. It was home. I knew the people, the streets. I knew its seasons, its weather. I knew the hangouts of most of the dangerous creatures in it, both human and inhuman. I knew every layer of it, every mood, every current.

I knew very little about Boston except that it was a supernatural melting pot. Most creatures that crossed from the Old World or from Other Places and didn't come through the Nevernever landed in Boston; many stayed there, made lives there. There were inhuman families that were generations old, living side by side with the descendants of human immigrants. The divide between mortal and supernatural was as thin as my willpower in Boston.

Look, Deveraux had handed me a really big number.

The train never stopped. That struck me as weird, but then I'd never traveled first class on a train before, so I had no bar for normal. I tried to sleep, but the novelty of everything wore off a couple of hours into the trip, and panic began to settle in. What the hell was I doing? I was Chicago's wizard, not Boston's!

Well, it was done. The AC broke about halfway through the trip, but with the windows open I never even noticed. I got my books out and read, trying to give myself a crash course on the magical scene in Boston, so to speak. Mouse took over one of the windows and seemed to have forgiven me, head thrust out into the wind of our passage, jowls flapping and the plume of his tail wagging sedately. He scared the crap out of the one person I did see, a young man who brought me breakfast and lunch, somehow still warm.

The sun had just set when the train pulled into the Back Bay. I could feel the air buzzing all around me with an imperceptible, invisible charge, the ambient energy of hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of supernatural creatures crackling against my senses. I felt both supercharged and itchy, and Mouse shook himself furiously when we finally made it off the rail car.

There was a man waiting for me on the concourse. He was tremendously solid, the sort of build I used to wish for when I was young, heavy muscle under a worn leather jacket, faded blue jeans and comfortable curb-stomper boots. He had long, very fine brown hair and oddly guileless blue eyes. He had stubble matching mine and he straightened up from his lazy slouch with the ease of someone perfectly at peace with the world around him.

I couldn't see the bulge of a gun anywhere, but I was pretty sure this was Leverage's heavy hitter.

Then he grinned at me, and his whole face lit up, and I thought maybe I was wrong. "Dresden?"

"That's me," I admitted.

He offered his hand without hesitation. "Eliot Spencer. Eliot's fine. Sorry to drag you so far from home."

This man was a walking contradiction. His hands told me I was right. His attitude told me I was wrong. He was the nicest, friendliest man with violence as his main occupation that I'd ever met up to that point in my life. He meant every word of his apology. He was sizing me up for threats.

Belatedly, I realized that Boston was literally supercharging me. My senses, both magical and normal, were trying to run away with me. I had nothing else at the moment; I clung to the hand Eliot Spencer offered, to the strength in it. "Oh, you didn't, not really. Too curious for my own good. Give me a second, would you?"

"You ok, man?"

"Just a little… drunk on the night air," I said, knowing how that had to sound to him.

I was not expecting the change that went over him. It was seamless, instantaneous. One moment Eliot Spencer was welcoming me to his home like a ray of sunshine; the next he was all deadly intent, a sort of quiet, intangible menace radiating from him like the darkest light. "A problem?" he asked mildly.

It told me two things; one, that I was right after all and two, that whatever had brought me to Boston was big enough to have this calm, steady man on a hair-trigger. "No, it's…. Boston's busy. Boston's real busy when it comes to magic. It hangs in the air, makes it thick, and it's giving me a head rush."

"Chicago's not like that?"

"No. The Lake grounds it. Water's good for that."

"I could take you by the Charles if it would help - hey!" And just like that the ray of sunshine was back when Mouse came trotting back from wherever he'd gone to take care of his business. Eliot dropped down to a crouch. "Who's this, Mouse, I think?"

"Yeah. Just watch out, he's not always -" Mouse, tail a blur, charged the Leverage man with a delighted huff and proceeded to lick anything Eliot didn't vigilantly protect, making him chuckle. Well. That was new. And good news for me. "Friendly. He was also a lot smaller when he was a puppy."

Eliot straightened up, rubbing Mouse's head with rough affection. My dog looked blissful, tongue lolling to one side. "Bait-and-switched you, huh."

"It might've been, if he'd given me any choice in the matter."

"He's big for a Tibetan Mastiff," Eliot pointed out. "Wrong color, too."

"He's not. He's a Tibetan Temple Mastiff."

Again that brief pause. Eliot looked down at Mouse. Mouse looked up at him.

The Leverage man grinned again and rubbed Mouse's ears. "Eh, he looks dog enough for me. Anyway. If you're feeling better, let's get you settled. I rented a van."

"Cars get temperamental with me around."

"Dresden, if you can break down a u-Haul, I'll believe you're a wizard no further questions. Where's your luggage?"

EIGHT

Apparently the Leverage people weren't unfamiliar with what happened when you put magic too close to tech. I was put up in their 'temporary' quarters, a small house a lick away from their actual place of business, a loft over a bar by the incredibly Irish name of John McRory's Place.

The house was nice. It had a fenced yard that Mouse promptly claimed as his own and a finished basement that I promptly claimed as my own. The bedroom looked suspiciously like someone had ordered it directly from a catalog, sheets and all. The only other rooms that were accessible were one bathroom and the living room, which had been set up as a meeting area of sorts. The kitchen was empty. The other rooms were full of crates.

There was dinner from the pub waiting for me that night, and a phone in a manila envelope. I offered to share my beer with Eliot; the phone died with a sad little squawk before we finished it.

"That's gonna make things hard," he admitted wryly, examining the dead screen of the phone. "I take it a bluetooth's out of the question?"

"The more parts to it, the quicker it goes."

I saw him get very thoughtful. "What about size? The bigger it is?"

"How big are we talking about?" I asked mildly, sensing a chance to finally get some information as to what had brought me to Boston.

"TV screen," Eliot answered without hesitation, then spread his arms. "Yay big."

"What were you doing at the time?"

"Trying to get a composite from a bunch of blurry pictures."

"What happened?"

"It cracked." He grinned wryly. "Top to bottom. We took that thing out to the recycling in two halves." His jovial mood faded. "I don't like the look on your face right now, Dresden."

"You shouldn't." I was trying to think of creatures that could shatter a screen like that, with just their image, without actually being there. It was a short list; it was also a very scary list. "It wasn't anything else, it had to be the picture?"

"The man who works our tech is the best, hands-down. His equipment doesn't blow up like that without a good reason," Eliot said calmly, then put his hands up. "Wait, no, I'm supposed to let you rest tonight. You're gonna hear all this tomorrow morning anyway."

"I did nothing but sleep on the train ride," I told him. I won't lie, it felt nice to know the Leverage outfit, whatever their business might be, gave enough of a damn to give me the night to myself. Most people who hire me for that kind of money expected 24-7 service, never mind what kind of shape I might be in at the end of the day. "Tell me what you can."

He gave me one of the few measuring looks I've ever gotten that didn't have my harm at heart before he made a decision and tipped his head toward the pub. "Come on."

"Mouse, watch the place." Mouse flopped in front of the door and settled down with a yawn.

The front of the pub was roaring, but we came in from the back. Eliot knocked softly on a door, poked his head in and murmured something to someone in there. I caught a faint whiff of something sweet, almost like licorice - probably a storage room, and a bottle of liquor had broken and been cleaned up. Eliot got his answer; he closed the door and we moved on. He peeked out into the main floor and called out something I couldn't hear over the noise of the crowd before heading to a pair of elevator doors.

I stopped walking. "Uh…"

He paused, turned, and led me to the stairs, grinning. "You know, I don't even think about most of this stuff. Tech's embedded so deep into our lives."

"I just wish for a hot water heater that didn't break in under a week," I told him.

"Yikes."

"Yup."

"Just keep your distance from Hardison's tech," Eliot warned me as he led me into a vast, elegant little loft. The bare brick walls had paintings on them that looked… modern. Expensive. I didn't know enough about art back then to appreciate what they were. A spiral staircase led up to what was probably a bedroom, and behind it was a typical modern kitchen. Most of the open space was taken up by a very modern, very sleek meeting room sort of setup, a wall full of screens and a small curve of desks before it. "He's still sore about those screens."

"Screens? More than one?"

"Yeah, a second one a day after -"

A young woman came flying into the loft. "Where is he? Where's the wizard?"

"Parker, don't -"

She whirled and faced me, and immediately made a face. "Aren't you supposed to have a white bushy beard?"

"Not for another couple hundred years."

I hadn't expected my quip to bring her up short, but it did. She seemed to really think about it, and it gave me a chance to examine her. She was young, wiry, blonde, pretty. She had the same kind of intensity Karrin had, but her focus seemed to change from minute to minute.

"Oh. I didn't think about that. There have to be young wizards to get old wizards."

"Parker." Eliot sighed.

"No robes?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Fancy spell books?"

"I do have one of those."

"Can I see it?"

"Parker, let the man catch his breath." Sophie Deveraux looked cozy and elegant and beautiful in a flowing blue blouse and a shimmering gray skirt. She beamed at me and I felt warm and fuzzy. Look, I'm man enough to admit it, I'm a sucker for a pretty lady, particularly one that doesn't want me dead. "Harry."

"Miss Deveraux."

"Just Sophie, Harry, please. Are you sure you wouldn't rather wait?"

"I'm good. I got all my rest in the train ride. Boston's full of energy, and it's making me buzzed, I rather put some of it to work, get it out of my system -"

"Why do you carry a stick?"

I whipped around. Parker had my wand in her hands.

Hell's Bells, I'd never even felt the theft. My wand, and I would have never known she'd gone for it if she hadn't said something.

Something in my face clued Sophie and Eliot that things had gone very badly, very quickly. "Parker!" Sophie cried out.

With all the care of someone handling live explosives, Eliot closed a hand over the 'stick'. "We are trying," he told her, sticking to his calm demeanor like tar, "to make a good impression, Parker."

"Oh, fine. Should I give everything else back?"

I took the quickest stock of my person I'd ever taken in my life. Immediately I found another thing missing that I would have never thought could be taken from me without my notice. How in the hell -!

"Yes!" Sophie told her firmly.

"Well, he didn't have anything interesting anyways," Parker put out her hand with my wallet on it.

And my shield bracelet.

Eliot offered me my wand back, looking sheepish. "Sorry, man."

"I just - how?" Seriously. Never mind the theft, everything was coming back to me, nothing was broken, no one was hurt, I just wanted to know how she'd done it.

"Parker is the best in the world," Sophie said, somehow managing to convey warm pride and icy disapproval all in one. Parker squirmed uncertainly. "She should also bear in mind that as of now you're part of our team, and we don't pickpocket teammates."

Parker held strong under the tone of disapproval longer than I would have. "Sorry," she muttered with ill grace.

"No harm no foul if you teach me how to do it."

She grinned, just a little. "Deal."

"Also, where should I stand so I'm as far away from anything tech-y as possible?"

"Right there." Nathan Ford had arrived, and the mask was off. He still looked vaguely friendly, a little rumpled, somewhat distracted. But there was nothing hiding the ruthless ice in his eyes anymore, or the deep mistrust in the gaze he leveled at me. I was in his world, in his domain, I was his employee. The carrot had done her job, the stick didn't have to mind his manners anymore. "Right there's fine, mister Dresden."

Ford passed everyone by and moved to the kitchen to find himself, apparently, some coffee. "Where's Hardison?"

"He said he wanted to take a few more pictures of the cylinder we found at the museum," Eliot told him. "He's in the storage room."

"What cylinder?" Something was bugging me. It wasn't big, at least not big enough to pin it down, but it was there, nagging at the back of my mind like a toothache after too much sugar.

"There was an issue at the Isabella Gardner Museum," Sophie told me. "Someone tampered with the fire suppression system. They attached some kind of homemade cylinder to the system and it started pumping something out in the air, some sort of perfume." She shrugged lightly. "We don't know why, there was no need for it."

"Perfume?"

"Yes. Fernflower."

I was running the next moment, going on a guess and a prayer. The guess was that the closed door was the storage room. The prayer was that I wouldn't be too late.

The moment I hit the bottom floor a faint reek of sweet, rotten candy and burning flowers made me reel back, coughing, my lungs burning. I could definitely smell the fernflower; worse, I could also smell night's breath. This was some deep, deep magic. Deep and old. Someone had cooked up a Burning Witchwell, and Leverage had blundered right into it. Only luck had kept any of them from being magically inclined, but that luck had run out with the fernflower.

Eliot was right behind me, and he threw a hand over his face. He snatched a bunch of cloth napkins from a nearby shelf and shoved them at me. "What is that?!"

I ran on and shoved the door open to the storage room. There was a man kneeling on the floor before a table, wheezing. The fernflower fumes burned my eyes and I actually heard my skin hiss on contact with the night's breath, but I was running on Boston air. I was so charged up I barely registered any pain.

"Venti, ventum!" I shouted. Wind poured into the storage room. Everything went flying off the shelves. I felt my magic careen out of control, as supercharged as I was, and fought to bring it back under control. I didn't want to wreck the room, I just wanted to get the man to safety, away from the fumes.

"Hardison!" Eliot had already dashed past me, catching the man. He was lanky, lean, deceptively muscled, possibly an inch or so taller than me. His skin was very dark and it had gone blotchy where the night's breath had had time to settle down and sink in. He slurred something unintelligible and squinted intently at me; I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was seeing.

"Dresden?!" Eliot asked, spitting his own hair out of his mouth.

"Go, get him out!"

He didn't question me. I could have danced a happy jig at that show of trust. I backed out of the room; I was one step past the doorway when helpful hands slammed the door shut. "Does the ventilation system here connect to the pub?"

"No, it goes straight out," Ford replied.

"Then just put some…" The borrowed energy from the Boston ambiance ran out. I felt pain creep up over any part of me not covered by fabric. "Put some…"

"Sophie, put some towels at the bottom," Ford's voice was full of calm, focused competency. "Parker, go tell the front of house no one is to come into this room until one of us says otherwise. Eliot." There was a pause. "Dresden, is a hospital going to help either of you?"

"He's fine." Oh, that was Ford's shoulder under my arm, holding me up. When had that happened? "Unless he's got magic, he's just drunk. Sort of."

"And you?"

"I'm a little blistered." I was a little more than blistered, but I had the advantage of knowing the damage wasn't real. "No hospital. A bath."

"Alright. Let's get you and Hardison up to the loft, then."

I wasn't in any shape to argue. I got shoved under a spray of miraculously hot water. Someone peeled my clothes off. At some point I realized I trusted only two people in the loft, and one of them was helping undress me. "Wash your hands," I told Eliot. "Wash the clothes."

"Can we burn them?"

"Don't burn my clothes, I didn't bring any more." I stared at him suspiciously; well, there was only one person I trusted anymore. "Tell Parker to watch my things."

Eliot offered a sound of deeply amused disbelief. Somewhere nearby a man's voice was tunelessly singing what sounded like a church song. "Drunk?"

"Intox… Intec… Sort of. Fernflower gives you magic. See things. Talk to animals. Sorta thing. But it's eph… emph…. It fades quick. You gotta lace it with… other stuff. It It wasn't the weapon, the night's breath was."

"Night's breath?"

"Old plant. Burns up magic. Night's breath was fire. Fernflower was gasoline. 's called a… a Burning Witchwell."

"You aren't breathing right, man."

"Fake. I'll be fine when my…. when my magic comes back. Easy, in this place."

"Fake damage." At that Eliot did look disbelieving. "Hurt's hurt."

"Particularly if you believe in it," I shot back, then put my head up to the spray of hot water. "Oh, that feels good."

I heard Eliot snort in amusement. "Well, enjoy it while you can. Haven't blown up this heater."

"Give me a chance, I just got here."

[and-a-pidgey-in-a-wepear-tree]

peer-reviewed tags from @typhoidmeri because YES YES YES YOU'RE SO RIGHT

They don't talk about it.

But there's no way Nate should know those things. No way the client could have told him, no way he could've figured it out on his own. Not when these things were nothing more than fleeting thoughts from the mark. But Sophie notices him quietly go for the scotch behind the counter and rub at his head in pain with extra vehemence some days despite the latest con having no personal connection to him.

They don't talk about it.

But someone should've recognized Sophie on that con. There's no way she could have that many characters per con. No way none of those diplomats didn't recognize her from any of her previous cons. Not when she didn't change any more than her clothes and accent. But Nate notices her features seem to flicker at the peace and safety of home when she thinks he isn't watching.

They don't talk about it.

But no one could've survived that. And certainly not looking the way he does. There's no way he didn't come out of that fight broken and bloodied to all hell. Not when instead he walks out with a purposeful stride and only a clenched jaw, rolling his shoulders. But when he's cooking and accidentally burns himself, Parker notices the unmarked skin left behind.

They don't talk about it.

But not all vents are human sized. They all saw the size of the vent cover as she exists with a grin. There's no way she could've fit in there. Not when the human body can't bend that way, a way that even the greatest contortionist can't bend. But some days Hardison notices as she seems to stretch and bend before his eyes when she's feeling relaxed and safe enough.

They don't talk about it.

But that's not how computers work. There's no way Hardison could access that kind of thing. Not when he describes how he did it like that. Not when he does it so quickly like that. Not when he says he's taken berries and the next thing they know he's recreated a colonial era journal to perfection. But Eliot swore he shoved a glass of water at him, not more goddamn orange soda.

They don't talk about it, the thing lingering over their heads as they conduct each con, the unacknowledged thing between the five of them that's a little deeper than just a desire to take down the rich and powerful.

They aren't perfect, they all know that- sometimes they're too good with their covers, sometimes they have to shift gears as the con unfolds before them, but somehow things always seem to work out.

But no one asks about it, so-

They don't talk about it.

[gaerlhoss-a]

TAG DROP  –  ronald lewis,  i.e. my goodest boy.

⤷  file  /  ronald lewis.

⤷  ronald  /  character study.

⤷  ronald  /  characterization.

⤷  ronald  /  visage.

⤷  ronald  /  interactions.

⤷  ronald  /  rel.  breanna casey.

⤷  ronald  /  rel.  sophie devereaux.

⤷  ronald  /  rel.  alec hardison.

⤷  ronald  /  rel.  parker.

⤷  ronald  /  rel.  eliot spencer.

⤷  ronald  /  rel.  harry wilson.

[nicejewishcharactershowdown]

Welcome to Round Two of NJCS 2024!

Round two match-ups are listed below the read more, plus a look at the bracket. Posts will go up at 10am EST on Tuesday, and the list will be updated with poll links then :) Good luck!

Round Two Matches:

Match One: James Wilson (House MD) VS Otacon (Metal Gear Solid) Match Two: Libby Stein-Torres (The Ghost and Molly McGee) VS Sid (Galavant) Match Three: Columbo (Columbo) VS Fox Mulder (The X-Files) Match Four: Nadia Vulvokov (Russian Doll) VS Sidney Prescott (Scream) Match Five: Grover (Sesame Street) VS Bugs Bunny (Looney Tunes) Match Six: Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson Series) VS The Baudelaires (A Series of Unfortunate Events) Match Seven: Seymour Krelborn (Little Shop of Horrors) VS Alec Hardison (Leverage) Match Eight: Sharpay Evans (High School Musical) VS Willow Rosenberg (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

[tryandgiveitallyougot]

Harry 100% files his taxes. Now I see that Hardison has the second most votes, and let me tell you: Hardison most definitely files taxes for the teams alias but not once has Hardison filed his own taxes.

[number1dork]

10 characters, 10 fandoms

Rules: list your ten favorite characters from ten separate fandoms, then tag ten people

Shoutout to @cultivating-wildflowers for tagging me 🥰🥰

Not in order

1. Sam Carter (Stargate SG-1)

2. Bart Curlish (Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency)

3. Alec Hardison (Leverage) ((also, @cultivating-wildflowers, we both have him on our lists!))

4. Bones McCoy (Star Trek)

5. Herbert West (Re-Animator)

6. Scott Summers (X-men)

7. Ford Prefect (Hitchhiker’s Guide)

8. Nick Miller (New Girl)

9. Dana Scully (X-Files)

10. Martha Jones (Doctor Who)

Tagging: @nheirei @thestarbehindthemoon @malcolm-reeds-pineapple @notanimposter @scottxlogan @notcruvusmemes @faceandamy

[dumbass-duo-showdown]

DDS mod here with an update!!!!

So I was planning on doing a most submitted post. BUT I MADE THE LASAGNA SCALE! And here are the stats!

HERE IS THE FORM! TRIOS ARE OFFICIALLY ALLOWED BUT THEY NEED AT MINIMUM 6 SUBMISSIONS

LASAGNA STATS

Basically if you would trust your duo on making lasagna

With 33,1% of the submissions. 1/3 of the characters are probably banned from the kitchen. WITH A SIMPLE 0

After that with 17% of the votes. Comes duos with a 2 on the scale with 52 submissions.

Now our least voted options are 6,7,8,9 and 10 on the scale. Let’s reveal those characters

Now I won’t reveal how many submissions each got. Some got 4, some 3, some are just solo submissions

6 on the scale

We have

The Dr & Donna from Dr Who

Porsche and Pete from Kinnporsche: The Series

Henchman 21 & Henchman 24 from The Venture Bros

Yor & Loid Forger from Spy x Family

Elder Price and Elder Cunningham from Book of Mormon

@gregorygerwitz & @kitthekazoo (yes I allowed real people and people submitted themselves)

Bill Preston & Ted Logan from Bill & Teds excellent adventure (this was the second highest score they got)

Walter White & Jessie Pinkman from breaking bad

Pete Wentz and Gabe Saporta from Bandom

Calvin & Hobbes from uhh… the comic of the same name

Now for our 7, where 11 duos landed

We have

Bill Preston & Ted Logan, again!

Jack O'Neill & Daniel Jackson from Stargate SG-1

Mayday & Zuke aka Bunk bed junction from no straight roads

Laura Hollis & Carmilla Karnstein from Carmilla

Allison & Paige. I still need your URLs please DM me

Kotetsu T. Kaburagi & Barnaby Brooks Jr from Tiger and Bunny

Alec Hardison & Elliot Spencer from Leverage

Rean Schwarzer & Crow Armbrust from Trails/Kiseki series

Madoka Kaname & Sayaka Miki from Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Mayday & Zuke, again

Eustass "Captain" Kid, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Monkey D. Luffy from one piece (oh yeah about uhh Luffy is in another duo with like an equal amount of submissions and I won’t allow him to go in twice. Hes stupid but not a cheater)

7 duos have gotten an 8 on the save

We have!

Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took from lord of the rings

Bobbi Morse and Lance Hunter from Agents of SHIELD

Jessie & James from Pokémon

Lup & Taako from the adventure zone (credit to @arojovela for the fanart!)

Nathan and Jacob from drawfree

Shadow/cid kagenou & beta from the eminence in shadow

Monkey D Luffy, Roronoa Zoro, Sanji from one piece

Time for the 9s!

We have 6 characters here!

Romana(dvoratrelundar) & Leela from Gallifrey (Doctor Who expanded universe)

The Bros from the bro duet

Mary Quinn & Sarah McCool from Derry Girls

Dana Scully & Fox Mulder from the X-files

Sokka & Zuko from Avatar: the last airbender

Someone’s mom and dad (they said I could draw stick figures)

Now for the 10s, let see who we can trust in the kitchen

Here. They. ARE!

TK Strand and Evan "Buck" Buckley from 911/911 lone star (I know I make jokes about being followed by OP fans but buck has followed me more. I CANT escape him)

Lanz and Sena from Xenoblade Chronicles 3 (credit to Illius on pixiv for the fanart)

Spongebob & Patrick from SpongeBob SquarePants (they also got a 0)

Nozaki Umetarou & Mikoto Mikoshiba from Monthly Girls' Nozaki Kun

Billie and Thea from Bill & Ted Face the music

@mb-blue-roses & @sungsyc-amore

Rin Okumura & Kuro from Blue exorcist

kirika akatsuki & shirabe tsukuyomi from senki zesshou symphogear

Mario & Luigi

TK Strand and Evan 'Buck' Buckley, again

(Btw sup @tournamentdirectory)

[aimmyarrowshigh]

List of Jewish Characters for the Panfandom Hanukkah Bingo

I've gotten a few requests for a list of Jewish characters to help people brainstorm for the bingo -- just as a reminder, Jewish headcanons and fanons are totally allowed for the event, so if you don't KNOW whether your character is Jewish, it's totally fine to make them Jewish for your fanwork! :)

But, since people asked, here is a little starter-list of 225 fictional Jewish and Jew-ish characters (characters who are "nebulously Jewish," played by Jews, are Jewish in at least one variation of the character, only make sense if they're Jewish, etc.)

Feel free to add! This list is alphabetized by first name.

Abbi Abrams (Broad City) Abby Stevenson (The Baby-Sitters' Club) Adam Birkholtz (Check Please!) Adam Sackler (Girls) Alec Hardison (Leverage, Leverage: Redemption) Alex Kerkovitch (Happy Endings) Alexis Rose (Schitt's Creek) Amy Green (FRIENDS) Amy Matthews (Boy Meets World) Angela Wexler (The Westing Game) Angelica Pickles (Rugrats) Ann Perkins (Parks & Recreation) Anna Stevenson (The Baby-Sitters' Club) Annie Edison (Community) April O'Neill (Rise of the TMNT) Arnie Roth (Marvel) Arnold Perlstein (The Magic School Bus) Aunt Gayle (Bob's Burgers) Bail Organa (Star Wars) Barney Guttman (Dead End Paranormal Park) Ben Geller-Willick (FRIENDS) Ben Grimm | The Thing (Fantastic Four) Ben Solo | Kylo Ren (Star Wars) Benjamin Sisko (Star Trek) Bernie Rosenthal (Marvel) Billy Kaplan | Wicca (MCU, X-Men) Breha Organa (Star Wars)

Bruce Wayne | Batman (DCU) Carl Foutley (As Told By Ginger) Cassie Howard (Euphoria HBO) Cassie Lang (MCU) Catherine Frensky (Arthur) Charles Deetz (Beetlejuice) Charlotte York Goldenblatt (Sex and the City) Cher Horowitz (Clueless) Chuckie Finster (Rugrats) Cindy Hayes (Orange is the New Black) Cole Tillerman (Central Park) Cory Matthews (Boy Meets World) Craig Manning (Degrassi: The Next Generation) Cristina Yang (Grey's Anatomy) Cyrus Goodman (Andi Mack) Darcy Lewis (MCU) David "Gordo" Gordon (Lizzie McGuire) David Rose (Schitt's Creek) Desi Harperin (Girls) Dil Pickles (Rugrats) Dipper Pines (Gravity Falls) Dodie Bishop (As Told By Ginger) Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) Edward Teach | Blackbeard (Our Flag Means Death) Elaine Benes (Seinfeld) Elijah Krantz (Girls)

Emily Deetz (Beetlejuice) Emma Geller-Green (FRIENDS) Eric Matthews (Boy Meets World) Erik Lehnsherr | Magneto (X-Men) Felicity Smoak (Arrow) Finn (Star Wars) Ford Pines (Gravity Falls) Fox Mulder (The X-Files) Fran Fine (The Nanny) Fran Parker (Girls) Francine Frensky (Arthur) Frankie Landau-Banks (The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks) Gene Belcher (Bob's Burgers) George Costanza (Seinfeld) Gert Yorkes (Marvel Runaways) Ginger Foutley (As Told By Ginger) Gomez Addams (The Addams Family) Grace Adler (Will & Grace) Grace Windkloppel Wexler (The Westing Game) Greg Universe (Steven Universe) Gretchen Weiners (Mean Girls) Hal Jordan | Green Lantern (DCU) Han Solo (Star Wars) Hannah Horvath (Girls) Harley Quinn (DCU)

Harold Berman (Hey Arnold!) Harold Hooper (Sesame Street) Helen (Central Park) Holly Wheeler (Stranger Things) Howard Wolowitz (The Big Bang Theory) Ilana Wexler (Broad City) Isabella Garcia-Shapiro (Phineas and Ferb) Jack Geller (FRIENDS) Jack Zimmermann (Check Please!) Jake Berenson (Animorphs) Jake Peralta (Brooklyn Nine-Nine) Jake Wexler (The Westing Game) James "Bucky" Barnes | Winter Soldier (MCU) James Tiberius Kirk (Star Trek) Jane Foster | The Mighty Thor (MCU) Jane Kerkovitch-Williams (Happy Endings) Jane Smith (Mr. & Mrs. Smith) Janet Perlstein (The Magic School Bus) Janice Littman nee Hosenstein (FRIENDS) Jean-Ralphio Saperstein (Parks & Recreation) Jerry Seinfeld (Seinfeld) Jessi Glaser (Big Mouth) Jill Green (FRIENDS) Jillian Holtzmann (Ghostbusters: Answer the Call) Jimmy Brooks (Degrassi: The Next Generation) Jobal Naberrie (Star Wars)

Johnny Rose (Schitt's Creek) Jonathan Byers (Stranger Things) Josh Lucas (Clueless) Josh Lyman (The West Wing) Joshua Matthews (Boy Meets World, Girl Meets World) Joyce Byers (Stranger Things) Jude Lizowski (6teen) Judy Geller (FRIENDS)

Kady Orloff-Diaz (The Magicians) Karen Wheeler (Stranger Things) Kate Bishop | Hawkeye (MCU) Kate Kane | Batwoman (DCU) Kaydel Ko Connix (Star Wars) Kelsey Pokoly (Craig of the Creek) Kes Dameron (Star Wars) Kimi Finster (Rugrats) Kit Snicket (A Series of Unfortunate Events) Kitty Pryde (X-Men) Klaus Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events) Krusty the Clown (The Simpsons) Kyle Broflovski (South Park) Leah Birch (Big Mouth) Leia Organa (Star Wars) Lemony Snicket (A Series of Unfortunate Events) Lenny Briscoe (Law & Order) Lenny Bruce (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel)

Leo Markus (Will & Grace) Leonard Green (FRIENDS) Lexi Howard (Euphoria HBO) Libby Stein-Torres (The Ghost and Molly McGee) Liberty Van Zandt (Degrassi: The Next Generation) Lilly Moscovitz (The Princess Diaries) Linda Belcher (Bob's Burgers) Lorna Dane | Polaris (X-Men) Louis Stevens (Even Stevens) Louise Belcher (Bob's Burgers) Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice) Mabel Pines (Gravity Falls) Macie Lightfoot (As Told By Ginger) Marc Spector | Moon Knight (MCU) Margaret Simon (Are You There God? It's Me Margaret) Max Blum (Happy Endings) Michael Moscovitz (The Princess Diaries) Michelle "MJ" Jones (MCU) Midge Maisel (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel) Mike Wheeler (Stranger Things) Min Green (Why We Broke Up) Missy Foreman-Greenwald (Big Mouth) Moira Rose (Schitt's Creek) Molly Tillerman (Central Park) Mona Lisa Saperstein (Parks & Recreation) Monica Geller (FRIENDS)

Moose Pearson (Pepper Ann) Morgan Matthews (Boy Meets World) Mort the Mortician (Bob's Burgers) Morticia Addams (The Addams Family) Ms. Frizzle (The Magic School Bus) Nadia Diamondstein (The View from Saturday) Nancy Wheeler (Stranger Things) Natasha Romanov | Black Widow (MCU) Nick Birch (Big Mouth) Owen Tillerman (Central Park) Padmé Amidala Naberrie (Star Wars) Paige Hunter (Central Park) Paris Geller (Gilmore Girls) Penny Hartz (Happy Endings) Pepper Ann Pearson (Pepper Ann) Peter Parker | Spider-Man (All variants) Pietro Maximoff | Quicksilver (MCU, X-Men) Poe Dameron (Star Wars) Pugsley Addams (The Addams Family) Rachel Berenson (Animorphs) Rachel Berry (Glee) Rachel Green (FRIENDS) Rachel Menken (Mad Men) Ray Ploshansky (Girls) Rebecca Rubin (American Girl)

Ren Stevens (Even Stevens) Riley Matthews (Girl Meets World) Ron Stoppable (Kim Possible) Rose Krensky (American Girl) Ross Geller (FRIENDS) Roza Wasserstein (The Diviners) Ruth bat Seraph | Sabra (MCU) Ruwee Naberrie (Star Wars) Ryoo Naberrie (Star Wars) Sam Manson (Danny Phantom) Sam Windkloppel Westing (The Westing Game) Schmidt (New Girl) Scott Lang | Ant-Man (MCU) Sebastien LeLivre | Booker (The Old Guard) Sergei "Sam Lloyd" Lubovitch (The Diviners) Seth Cohen (The OC) Shara Bey (Star Wars) Shirley Cohen (A League of Their Own) Shoshannah Shapiro (Girls) Sola Naberrie (Star Wars) Spock (Star Trek) Stan Pines (Gravity Falls) Stanley Uris (IT, IT: Chapter Two) Steven Universe (Steven Universe) Sunny Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

T.K. Strand (9-1-1) Ted Moseby (How I Met Your Mother) Ted Wheeler (Stranger Things) The Children (How I Met Your Mother) The Goldbergs (The Goldbergs) Tina Belcher (Bob's Burgers) Tina Cohen-Chang (Glee) Tish Katsufrakis (The Weekenders)

Toby Isaacs (Degrassi: The Next Generation) Toby Ziegler (The West Wing) Tommy Pickles (Rugrats) Tommy Shepherd | Speed (MCU, X-Men) Tsabin | Sabé (Star Wars) Turtle Wexler (The Westing Game) Velma Dinkley (Scooby-Doo) Violet Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events) Wanda Maximoff | Scarlet Witch (MCU, X-Men) Wednesday Addams (The Addams Family) Will Byers (Stranger Things) Willow Rosenberg (Buffy, the Vampire Slayer) Yelena Belova | Black Widow (MCU) Yitzhak (The Old Guard) Zed Necrodopoulous (Disney Channel ZOMBIES) Zevon Necrodopoulous (Disney Channel ZOMBIES) Ziva David (NCIS) Zoey Necrodopoulous (Disney Channel ZOMBIES)

[benoitblanc]

top 5 doctor who episodes & top 10 favourite characters of all time?

doctor who episodes:

"the impossible astronaut"/"day of the moon" (6.01/6.02)

"partners in crime" (4.01)

"silence in the library"/"forest of the dead" (4.08/4.09)

"midnight" (4.10)

"turn left" (4.11)

bonus: "the unicorn and the wasp" (4.07)

top 10 characters of all time:

donna noble from doctor who

edwin jarvis from agent carter

dana scully from the x-files

peggy carter from agent carter

parker from leverage

fox mulder from the x-files

alec hardison from leverage

han solo and leia organa from star wars are a package deal i cannot split them up even if i wanted to

inej ghafa from the grishaverse

rory williams from doctor who

(i have brand loyalty to pieces of media, as you can see)

ask my top 5/10 anything!!!

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 39-40-41-42-43

THIS IS IT.

As always, thank you so much for coming along for the ride. It always makes me wriggle a little in goblin-glee to see the little like and/or reblog notifications.

If you made it this far, and you have the patience to answer a few questions, I would appreciate it. If not, that's fine. Just please, bear in mind that reblogs heal my soul, and they cost you nothing. Also, you get a cookie if you can guess what creature the Dredgers are modeled after.

Favorite scene? Favorite OC?

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42

THIRTY NINE

I woke up on a relatively soft surface, which was more than I'd expected. Someone had put a pillow under my head, and there were quiet voices nearby, much louder ones further away. The warmth of Mouse against my leg and on my stomach was a welcome presence, and I reached down to rub his ears. He licked my hand and I heard his tail thumping against something soft. "Did we win?"

"Harry." Parker's voice was nearby. She moved closer and my breath caught. She'd put on the spider gown, an exquisite half-sheath of peach and gold and salmon tones, she'd done up her hair and put on make-up. She looked like a bona-fide, invited, certified guest of the party. In the darkness of the room she gleamed faintly, like a fallen star, the spider silk reacting to my presence. Lights, blue and red and white, flashed through a nearby window.

"I take it the cops are here."

"Well, yeah, but we called them," she specified, sitting next to me. "They're keeping the news people out. Everyone's all over that tidal wave that came out of nowhere and no one can explain." She gave me a tiny, wicked, utterly delighted look. "That was magic. And I was there to see it."

"It was, you were," I agreed. It was hard to get down on myself when there was someone around who so wholeheartedly approved of what I was, what I could do, all the glory and the violence of it, the grit and the beauty. "Nothing else was strong enough to maybe kill the dragon."

"Oh, it did," she assured me, then gestured with her hands to mime something being torn in half. She even made a squelching sound.

I had to laugh, and found that, overall, I wasn't terribly sore or hurt. Bone-tired, yes, I felt like I'd scraped a bottom to my magic I didn't even know was there. But nothing was burn, broken, or bleeding. "The Blackbird? Grandmother?"

"We've got them. Nate said to wait for you, though. Can you stand?"

"Oh, for this I can stand, dance and run a marathon," I told her, sitting up. I rode out a wave of diziness and got to my bare feet, felt them sting a little. My mouth tasted of the sea, and I could feel salt and sand in places best left unmentioned. I was suddenly starved, and I would have loved to wash my mouth if nothing else, but I didn't care. I wanted to see how it ended between Koschei and Baba Yaga.

I'd been lying in a bed that dominated a small room, probably a guest bedroom. My duster had been tossed at the feet of it, and I snagged it as I went, Mouse jumping down lightly to follow Parker and me. On top of a chest of drawers that matched the bed were the rest of my things, and I gave her an amused look. "All together in the same place?"

She grinned at me. "Amateurs. Oh." She rushed back into the room, grabbed a small bundle from the bed, and brought it back to me as I shrugged on the duster. "Nate said you should have this."

I looked down at a familiar bundle wrapped in a plain tablecloth and a lot of duct tape, and a few things made sense. "Fried your bud when you read it, didn't it."

She nodded.

"I should've thought of that."

"Harry, we all should've thought of that. We didn't. I should've got a mirror piece anyways, but I didn't." She shrugged easily. "It still worked out. I stole your earclip," she informed me lightly as she opened the door. My staff was resting by it, and I grabbed it as I followed.

We stepped out onto a hallway and golden light; just past the door, Eliot and Hardison were talking to a man with ash-brown hair cut very short and sharp eyes, dressed casually except for the Red Sox jacket and the discreet bulge of a gun, and a woman with long blonde hair, keen blue eyes and strong, mobile features, dressed as if she'd thrown on the first thing she could find when she'd jumped out of bed, her badge and her gun worn on her belt. Both of them had that unmistakable set to their shoulders of a cop on the trail of something important. He asked them something in the thickest Boston accent I'd yet heard of anyone, and all four of them chuckled low.

Hardison handed him Wattsford's little black notebook. Eliot handed her the sheaf of folders.

"That him?" The man shuffled through the notebook, his face going hard, before he looked up and pointed at me, back to his casual, easy manner. Parker, ironically, didn't get more than an admiring look from both of them, and why should she? She wasn't wearing the skin-fitted black of a thief, she was dressed like someone who'd come to a party.

"I didn't do anything," I replied automatically.

"Yeah, that's him," the woman confirmed with a touch of dark humor to her voice.

I sputtered, vaguely insulted. What's the point of proclaiming your innocence if no one's gonna even pretend to believe you?

"Harry is a consultant," Eliot told them both mildly. "He'll be going home soon, and hopefully we won't be getting him in trouble for a while."

"Like you never get me in trouble?" the man shot back, all amusement, but they all shook hands and parted ways amicably enough.

Eliot and Hardison came over to meet us. The hacker could barely take his eyes off Parker, so it was the hitter who offered me his hand, his eyes dancing, his smile warm as ever. "Sir."

"Sir." I shook his hand back. "I swear I didn't do any of it on purpose."

"The hell you didn't." Eliot snorted in amusement. "I'm glad you're on our side, Harry."

"Til the day I die," I assured him.

"May it be long in coming," he replied as if he were reciting a prayer. "Now come on. Time to finish this."

I followed them down the hallway to the main area of the mansion. "So the van did work, or did you and my dog run all the way across the grounds?"

"I absolutely don't doubt Mouse could run the distance and carry me," Hardison admitted. "I don't run if I can help it, it's undignified. The van did work, it's still working, actually. As much as a seven hundred pound computer made of cathode tubes can be said to be working."

"Those were the original computers, no?"

"No! What I made was better, stronger and capable of carrying you around without fritzing or exploding, capable of hacking into the security cameras so I could see where to go without running into the security people, capable of gagging the electrical system without actually frying it so we could pretend you were being all magic-like while I did my job." The hacker looked entirely too pleased with himself. "You brought me a dedicated, single system OS and I hacked it."

"You hacked magic?"

"I damn well hacked magic."

I couldn't very well refute him. Aside from the spider's phone, every single bit of on-site tech had worked because Hardison had strong-armed it into working, no more, no less.

"You did not," Eliot protested wearily, face scrunched up.

"I did."

"He did."

"Don't enc- Harry, don't encourage him."

"But he did."

"He did not - you did not hack magic, man."

"I absolutely did. Tell me how I did not."

"I -" The hitter shot me a look.

I could only shrug. Eliot looked at Parker. "He kinda did a little," she murmured sheepishly, much to his wounded indignation, and we all went into the main receiving room.

FORTY

"Where's everyone?"

Nate turned from inspecting the small, elegant little clavichord in the room, sipping on a cup of very strong coffee, and examined Leverage's consulting wizard. There were deep shadows under Dresden's eyes, and his hair was going every which way, salt hardening it into peaks here and there. His clothing was singed and still faintly damp, and he smelled of the sea. Not for a minute did the mastermind doubt that he was ready for round two, three and twenty, if that was what it took.

Nate didn't believe in people, not overmuch. He believed in his people; he'd worked with them, he'd seen the steel in their souls often enough to know it ran true to the core of them. But of the average person he expected very little, or nothing at all; he'd seen them crumple far too often under the burdens of the world. He didn't hold it against them, not ever. He himself had crumpled once before, like cheap tin. It had been a labor of years to re-cast himself, to find his own steel. In Dresden, that core ran through and then some. What Leverage faced together, relying on one another, the wizard faced alone. His horrors weren't faceless or nameless; they were solid, real and truly monstrous, even if sometimes those monsters were on his side. Harry Dresden had drawn a line on the sand and he would defend it to his destruction, or that of his enemies.

Then again, he'd seen much the same thing when he'd accidentally Soulgazed the wizard. That, and more. For a while after Nate had kept looking down at himself, expecting to find himself spattered to the neck with blood and perplexed that, every time, he wasn't.

"Gone. None of them wanted to stay to talk to the police," he told Dresden. "We asked mister Stone to keep back only the ones that weren't liable to eat anyone." Over one shoulder he looked at a corner of the room. "And the ones that didn't want to leave."

As if summoned by those words, Classy and his people, six in number, rose from where they were sitting or slouching and drew lazily closer. "We're runnin' a legitimate business here," Classy told Nate mildly; he had never put his jacket back on, or rolled down his sleeves. "Ain't got no reason to run from no fuckin' terriers."

"Yes, well," the mastermind agreed in the same even tone. "You do have to admit that's not a common attitude."

Classy shoved his hands in his pockets and snorted in amusement. "Yeah, alright. I'll be fuckin' honest," he added, tipping his chin and grinning maliciously. "I woulda stayed to see how that ends, police or not." His people muttered in agreement.

Dresden turned to look at what Classy had pointed out. Koschei was sprawled on a chair, asleep, snoring faintly. There was a single, long, thin silver chain binding him to the chair, hardly looking like it would keep him there. What might do the job, however, was the immense bird-like creature hovering just behind him, long neck twisting this way and that, a woman's face at the end of it, its eyes a rich, dark gold with black pupils, like a bird's. She was stout and exceedingly fluffy, each feather three colors, red, black and white-tipped, her train made of iridescent black feathers. She was clucking cheerfully to herself like a contented hen.

All around them, the wizard suddenly realized, were the portraits, eight in total, seven fakes and one copy. "Did you have to bring them all?" he asked Nate.

"I wanted to make a point," the mastermind explained, giving him time to take in the rest of the room. Off by the bar, Vanya Fedorov and Nick flanked the woman from the portrait, who'd wrapped an exquisitely knotted blue shawl about her shoulders; it glowed like a piece of the night sky, dark blue studded with tiny winking dots. Grandmother herself looked far more put together, less fragile and wounded, though still as delicate as the cup full of tea in her hands. Nick had found a garishly colorful shirt and a pair of shorts, and no one had forced him to put on shoes, so he looked absolutely delighted at the proceedings, even if there were none currently ongoing to delight him. Next to him, holding onto a glass of something strong she had yet to sip, was Jessamine Lochlin.

By the door to the main drawing room, never taking his gaze off the shark, stood Stone. He was wearing a plain shirt that barely fit him, and his somewhat bedraggled pants, but otherwise looked implacably unharmed.

"What happened to Fedorov's uncle?" Harry asked quietly.

"Fedorov called his father. Hard to tell which one of them was angrier at the betrayal," Nate replied in the same quiet undertone before pitching his voice to carry. "Sophie, go ahead and wake him up."

Beautiful and radiant still despite the night's shenanigans, the grifter came close to the Russian wizard and pulled from his black hair a lacquered comb - the same comb Parker had originally stolen from the Blackbird's pockets. "That better be enough, I'm not kissing him," she warned Nate dryly. Classy and his people snickered, and the leader of the Dredgers cleared his throat with a muttered apology he absolutely didn't mean.

Koschei roused with a snort and a start, tried to lunge out of the chair, and nearly fell. The alkonost clamped a taloned foot on the back of the chair and forced it back down, and the wizard went with it, seething. He opened his mouth and snarled something, paused… and looked utterly stunned when nothing happened.

"Yeah, that." Nate saluted him with his cup. "I wouldn't bother."

"Release me!"

"Uh, no. Not yet anyways. I've got a couple of questions I was hoping -"

"Release me!"

"- you'd answer before we trade you for your heart."

Koschei went white, though it was hard to tell if it was fury or panic. "You cannot imagine what I can do for you, for all of you. All you know of magic is what that brute Dresden has shown you."

"Ouch," Harry muttered without heat.

"Release me. I will grant you anything you desire."

"Yeah, you already made that offer," Nate reminded him mildly. "You already got your answer. Or do you mean them?" He gestured to the Dredgers with his cup. "You guys want anything from the Blackbird?"

"His guts on a platter, his head on a bowl," Classy growled. His people hissed and chattered agreement, all of their eyes burning with a lambent red light. "His fingers and toes to bite and gnaw."

"Um. Need him alive. Sorry."

Classy shrugged, seamlessly going back to his easy mood. "No harm. Figured I'd ask just in case."

"Stone," Koschei began.

"I was fool enough to make one bad bargain with you, wizard. I will make no more," the golem replied calmly.

"You should ask Fedorov," Nate suggested. "I'm sure you've got many things he thinks he wants."

Koschei said nothing, glaring furiously at the mastermind, and Nate sipped at his coffee. "But it's not so easy, is it, to tempt a man who knows that what he wants and what he needs are two different things. Who knows that those things aren't always going to agree with one another." He pinned a level look on the Russian enforcer. "Or is this because he already made his choice, and there's some sort of prohibition between the two of you?" He gestured lightly at the hand gently squeezing Grandmother's shoulder. "When a Royal chooses one of you, the other can't interfere?"

Koschei exploded into profanities in Russian, as well as a couple of other languages that made Eliot's brows climb nearly to his hairline. Grandmother reached out to pat Fedorov's hand, but the enforcer looked nothing if not confused.

"You don't look like the men in your family," the mastermind told Fedorov. "I mean, obviously that's not an absolute, like genetic testing, but it's pretty telling when you don't look at all like any of the men in your family. We looked them up. Not one. You look like your mother, though. Same eyes, same hair. All the way back seven generations or so. The Sagorovs might have taken you in, but you're not a blood-relation."

"Yes, but -" Vanya hesitated. "My mother was… a casualty of the family's business. They made amends by taking care of me. What does that have to do with anything?"

"She wasn't a casualty, she was the target. His target." Nate gestured at the frothing wizard. "It left you alone, vulnerable at a young age. But then the family stepped in, and he saw the potential for an even bigger payout if he just waited. A high-ranking member of the Russian mafia and a Fyodorov? You don't find a lot of those lying around these days."

Fedorov pressed his mouth to a thin line.

"That's the problem with paper records," the mastermind pointed out mildly. "They tend to stick around for a long, long time."

"How did you know?"

"The invitation," Sophie murmured. "The coat of arms embossed on it was for the Russian Tsars. It just took me a little while to remember it, it hasn't been used for so long."

"I am not this thing. I am me. I am my own man."

"You just saved Grandmother from her greatest enemy in pitched battle." Dresden's voice was very calm, in spite of the surprises rolling out to smack everyone in the face. "Heroes do that. Princes do that."

"Do not call him that," Baba Yaga's voice crackled through the tension in the room. "He has chosen to be prince of a different empire, and that is his choice. As it should be." She leveled a cool, disappointed glare on Koschei. "How can this lesson not sink in after all these centuries, Kostya? We do not choose them, they choose us. Always."

"I don't have the patience for your maudlin beggary. They are mortal, and weak, and flawed. They are tools to be put to use, nothing else. They are power. My power."

"And you wonder why no one likes you," Fedorov commented, then crouched by Baba Yaga. "All I have ever wanted to be is my own man. I do not ask for favors easily." He shot Nate a look. "The price is always far more than one is willing to pay. I would ask only one thing of you, Grandmother." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a bundled handkerchief. Unwrapping it, he offered her the small, oddly shaped, carved wooden cup, a chicken bone tucked neatly inside it. "I would know what you think of me."

She gasped, and took the cup with wrinkled fingers. Then she looked up and smiled at him. "You already know, little prince. I think you are more than worthy. I think any path you choose should be proud to have you." She touched his cheek lightly and, Russian enforcer or not, he flushed faintly under her praise.

Koschei strained against his bonds with a high-pitched, strangled howl, before going limp in the chair. "So," he growled at Nate. "You win. You would make an enemy of me for all the days of your miserable mortal life. I hope it was worth it."

"Sort of," the mastermind replied. "See, Dresden is supposed to just be our consultant. Answer questions, provide information, that sort of thing. Things, eh, escalated, but he still made time for the information bit, and one thing he made real clear is that you like to carry grudges. You really do. So part of doing all this was also making sure you can't do that to my people, or to him."

"And what will you do, kill me?" Koschei laughed darkly at him.

"We could, I suppose, but we really don't kill people unless we have to."

"I am immortal," the wizard laughed.

"No," Dresden countered. "You just hid your heart so well even death couldn't find it. But then you went and dug it out." He rapped his staff lightly on the floor, and one of the portraits began to glow faintly, as if illuminated by a light behind it. "Worse, you went and dug up the keys to open your little magical lockbox, the same keys where you trapped your death. You might not be a necromancer, but man," Dresden shook his head. "I've walked the edge, and I thought I was close, but you make it look like I was hiking fifty miles from the Damocles Doom."

"A feeble threat from a feeble pack of feeble old men."

"You've been out of the loop. They've got women and everything in the Council these days. Real modern of them."

"You don't have the keys, I stole them back from Dresden's home."

"You made the most basic of mistakes." Sophie came up behind Koschei, just close enough to purr against his ear with Ekaterina's Russian accent before she straightened up and abandoned the persona altogether. "You forgot the first rule of the grift: always keep your eyes on the mark." She moved to stand by Nate.

"You kept looking for heroes," the mastermind sipped at his cup, "because you're used to fighting heroes. But the one hero you found, you kinda. Well. Brought him on yourself." He saluted Fedorov with his cup before giving Koschei his attention once again. "But we're not heroes. We're conmen. And you just fell for the oldest con: the shell game. " He moved to his feet and reached into his pocket, pulling from it the plastic chess piece. "In a tower."

The frame of the portrait began to glow with its own light, as it had back in the vault of the MFA. There, among the gilt and the filigree in the ancient wood, Nate found the carving of the tower, pressed the chess piece against it, and was unsurprised at last to see it sink in seamlessly.

"In a box," Eliot said, reaching for the box of matches Harry had thrown at him so carelessly. It had a treasure chest painted on top, and it was still half-full of matches. The little drawing led the hitter to the right place on the frame.

"I stole those from you," Koschei sounded strangled.

"Did you?" Nate asked casually. "Because we had a set at the safehouse, a set at the pub -"

"A set in Lucille," Hardison pointed out.

"And in the u-Haul," Eliot added, stepping aside for Parker, who frowned minutely at the frame until she found the carving of a rabbit missing a foot, and grinned victoriously as she did magic all on her own. "Inside a rabbit."

Hardison came up behind her. "You look absolutely glorious doing magic," he murmured, blindly shoving the duck-shaped whistle at the frame.

She beamed at him. "I do magic all the time," she replied just as quietly. "Pay at- Hardison, pay attention!"

"Hardison!" Eliot hissed, forcing the hacker to actually focus.

"Alright, ok! Messing up my rhythm here," he grumbled. He was one of the few people present who could reach the top of the frame and return the duck to its graven, flying flock.

"You see, our consultant explained something to us called a Mirror-Mask. When you bind several items together to make it look like they're all the real thing." Nate looked pointedly around. "I think you might have heard of it. Of course you were going to try and steal the keys, that's just common sense. All we had to do was make you think you'd succeeded. Make it, ah," he glanced at Dresden, "believable."

"The real set was never together, not after the first time," Sophie told Koschei mildly. "The best way to keep a magical item from being tracked is to have it always on the move. Harry taught us that too." She grinned at him. "And your own magic to hide the items did the rest of the job." From her purse she pulled the egg, and pressed it lightly to the bottom of the frame.

The painted emerald brooch burst into radiant color, bright enough to dazzle everyone present for a moment. Sophie brought out the key and bit her lip. "Are you sure, Harry?"

"You won't damage it," the wizard assured her.

She lifted the key and put it lightly against the brooch. It sank into the light as if into a lock. The grifter tested it one way, then the other, and slid it around a quarter turn, then another, before pulling it out.

With it came a black velvet bag the size of a man's head, secured with a golden cord, weighted at the ends with cabochon diamonds, each as big as a quarter, one pure, one black. Eliot caught the bag by the strings before it could drop from the key. "Heavy," he commented, his expression full of uncertain anticipation.

Sophie reached for the bag, hesitated, reached again and then took a full step back. "Parker."

"Dresden," Nate added.

"Mister Act," Harry said at once.

"The hell d'yer want me for, wizard?" Classy exclaimed, caught completely by surprise.

"To find out if it's booby-trapped," the wizard replied evenly.

"… Oh."

The bag was set on a small lacquered table, and all three bend down to stare curiously at it. Classy sniffed it lightly. "Dust. Time. Magic. No poison, no bugs, nothin' that bites or stings." He leaned even closer and licked the black velvet, then spat off to one side. "Night's breath and rowan ash. Their power's wore off with time, 's nothing but crap tea and soot."

"No hexes, no curses," Harry agreed. At Classy's dictum he gingerly laid a gentle hand on the velvet, then pulled it back, wriggling his fingers.

"Don't trust me, wizard?" Classy challenged.

"I do," Dresden replied evenly, then shrugged in the direction of the bar. "But I just spend a whole evening sneaking suppression potions into people's drinks. I made sure not to get you or your people, but you say rowan ash and I get paranoid."

The Dredger stared at him open-mouthed before he started cackling. "The Witchwell. That's how you made it work."

Parker ran her hands smoothly over the rich velvet. "There's nothing here but the one thing." She untied the cord and reached in.

The jewel filled both her hands. The emerald was immense, the same vitriolic green of its owner's eyes, flawless, shaped into an oval and set into a frame of platinum that made one dizzy if stared at for too long. Parker turned it this way and that, held it up to the light. Behind her, Sophie breathed out in disbelief. The thief suddenly shuddered and put it down abruptly. "It's wriggling," she declared tightly.

Sophie put her fingertips to it. "The Emerald Heart of Koschei the Deathless," she murmured. She could just feel the faint tremors of a heartbeat against her skin. "It's real."

"And untouchable," Koschei told them smugly. "Go on. Ask mister Stone to break it. Ask Grandmother to grind it up in her mortar. Ask. You do not have the final key, you did not find it, did you. You cannot touch me."

"We did not find it," Nate admitted readily. "We're just conmen. But you brought a hero into the mix," he told the Russian wizard mildly. "And he did find it, rattling around inside a chicken bone. Or what, did you think when you stole it, that we somehow miraculously found another chicken bone with a needle in it?" The mastermind's tone suddenly went to lethal ice. "Dresden."

Without hesitation, Harry pulled off the pin secured to the top of his shirt and flicked off the little mirror shard at the top.

"You cannot kill me." Koschei's panicked voice was a wheeze. "Your Council will murder you for it."

Dresden seemed to consider that. "True. Hey, Fedorov -"

"Wait!" Koschei shrieked. "What do you want, you must want something, everyone wants something. There is always something!"

"There is," Nate agreed, and gestured to the painting. "Tonight you were going to lock Grandmother in there with your heart, and finally do what you couldn't pull off all those centuries ago. You'd taken all the tools she uses for her magic, the mortar, the pestle, the shawl - left her her house, though, that's nice of you." He nodded at the alkonost who curtsied gracefully back. "You were going to lock her in there, and let the curse on the heart do what it was always meant to do. Sell the painting and wash your hands of her fate while you stole her power. So, instead, you're going to step in that cage. We're going to throw your heart in with you and we're going to lock the door. And then that lovely lady over there," he pointed at Jessamine, "is going to take you back to her museum. And if you're lucky, by the time you get out, your heart will have left you enough magic to fill up a thimble." He leaned back, once again the harmless, slightly rumpled, friendly man he could pretend to be so flawlessly. "But you'll be alive, though."

"There must be something you want," Koschei croaked, his eyes gone to rolling green pebbles in his corpse-white face.

"Probably lots of things," Nate admitted. "But I know the difference between what I want and what I need. And since we dosed you with a full suppression potion before we started this conversation, I don't think you're in any shape to offer me either."

FORTY ONE

The Dredgers boxed up the portrait after Dresden pulled the keys back out, and Eliot and Parker carried it out for Jess. The hitter excused himself discreetly, and both young women stared uncomfortably at anything but one another in the dark next to the u-Haul van.

"So you're a thief?"

"Sort of."

"Were you gonna - 'cuz I mean. I never got that vibe from you, that you were using me to steal from me."

"No!" Parker exclaimed. "No, I was, I wanted to work with you, 'cuz it was fun, and you were fun, and we could make plans, and then take 'em apart, and that was so much fun and that's what you're supposed to do with friends, have fun, except now I ruined everything and, and-"

"Alright!" Jess threw her hands out to try and stave off the deluge. She chewed angrily on her lip. "You don't have a lot of friends, do you."

Parker shrugged. "You just met them all but one."

"Oh my gosh," Jess tugged on her curling hair. "I mean, I'm not saying it wasn't fun, but you lied to me. Like, big lies! Important lies!"

"I know. I just… You wouldn't have wanted to make friends with a thief."

"Well… No, I guess not."

"But it was fun?" Parker asked tentatively.

Jess, flustered, wriggled uncomfortably in place. "So what's your real name?"

"Parker."

"Parker what?"

"No, just Parker."

"Well, there goes your free membership," Jess told her sternly.

"Ok, that's fair," the thief agreed, crestfallen.

The silence lingered and grew.

"So you're an art thief."

"Thief-thief, mostly."

"You wouldn't happen to know, you know. The Dutch Gallery."

"I know who did it, but they don't have them anymore, they sold them."

Jess let out an irate little squeal, stomping a foot. "I don't suppose that you'd want to. Do like a. Counter… heist?"

Parker's glum expression shattered under a burst of sunny, delighted surprise. "Would I ever."

"Well, good!" Jess nodded stoutly, then offered a hand. "Hello. I'm Jessamine Lochlin, and I've got a proposition for you."

Parker reached out to shake the young curator's hand. "Hi. I'm Parker, and I'm all ears."

FORTY TWO

"Wizard."

I turned to find myself nose to chest with Stone. "Oh, good," I said in a tone that implied the golem's presence was anything but.

"We made a bargain, you and I, back at the boat-house. That the building is no longer there is not a valid excuse to welsh on it."

"I'm not welshing on it. I'm just not keeping up all that well with local events. The boat-house's gone?"

"You tore multiple holes into the building and then called up a tidal wave, wizard," Stone gave me a look as deadpan as his tone. "What did you expect would happen to it?"

I shrugged. I hadn't exactly been planning ahead beyond getting rid of the zmei. "Come with me. Hey, Ford, a word?"

The mastermind turned to look at me, then up at the golem. "I don't know that I have the energy to deal with your friends tonight, Dresden," he declared wearily.

"Well, you're in luck because this one actually is a friend. Did Eliot and Hardison ever talk to you about the moonlighting I did with them?"

"Yes, briefly. But they also mentioned it was not likely to happen again once you go home."

"To you, no. You're human. But it occurs to me, what if you had a group of non-humans doing what you do?"

Ford opened his mouth. He said nothing, closed it. Looked up at Stone.

"I don't follow," the golem admitted.

"Ford and his people run a small operation. Very neat, very tidy, very challenging," I explained, hoping the mastermind would catch the emphasis on the last word.

"We help people," Ford jumped in. "We help people who have lost the war. We come into a situation when the odds are entirely against us. When our customers have had hope and spirit crushed out of them by companies, by governments, by forces that seem too big, to powerful for any one person to challenge, let alone defeat. Our monsters aren't solid," he gestured at the painting, "but they are real. And so are the challenges."

The golem looked most definitely intrigued. "I don't see how this applies to me. Are you offering me a job?"

"Not exactly," Ford demurred. "You see, while we were working on Grandmother's case, a couple of people approached us. One was a seal-woman."

"Looking for her skin?"

"Looking for her fourteen-year-old daughter's skin."

The golem straightened up sharply. "Was it found?"

I liked him for asking that question. Never mind what he might say about ethics or morals, Stone still had, somewhere under the granite exterior, an awareness of right and wrong.

"We did, and we also managed to sneak in some information to the authorities that won't compromise any other potential seal-women out there, but that will make the lives of the men involved very, very difficult." Nate gestured. "Abstract enemy. Lost fight. We still pulled a win. But… they aren't going to come to us anymore."

"You're human," the golem said thoughtfully.

"You aren't," the mastermind pointed out. "We could, in theory, provide you with the infrastructure, with training, with advice come from our experience fighting these fights. While you, and your team, can reach out to Boston's supernatural community in a way we can't. You can provide them with the… leverage they lack."

Stone was silent a long, long time, looking deeply thoughtful. "I have no team. I would not involve my security people in this matter. They are good at what they do, but that is very much all they are good at."

"Can I make a suggestion about that?" I raised my hand.

"This was your idea and your bargain, wizard. Suggest."

"Nick!"

The shark, who'd been demolishing what was left of the buffet, came trotting over. "Wizard! Tell me you have more fights to offer. This has been the best night since I came to your world."

"No," Stone said stiffly.

"Uh, well, you know," Ford spoke before I could. "Nick's the one who sniffed out Dresden for the seal-woman. He's been nothing but good about following directions tonight, on nearly no notice. And you know he'll never be afraid to call you out if he thinks you're going about a job the wrong way." His eyes strayed to Sophie. "Personal experience talking here, that is incredibly important to the job."

Stone looked down at the niuhi, frowning. Nick beamed up at him, then at me. "Lots of seal-women out there who need help, Nick," I told him casually. "Lots of other people, too, and no one's helping them."

The shark snorted. "You think I could help anyone, wizard? Biting makes as many problems as it solves!"

"Untrue," Stone said. "Biting can absolutely solve many problems without creating more, as long as they are the right problems."

"I'm not very good at telling the difference."

The golem sighed. "I am." He faced Ford. "Perhaps we should speak after all, you and the shark and I."

The three of them walked away and I breathed a sigh of relief. Was the night over yet? I wanted nothing more than a blessedly hot shower, a fresh change of clothes, and a bed, any bed. Maybe just a couch. A sleeping bag. Or a couple of blank-

"You got somethin' of mine, wizard."

I turned. Classy had approached me alone, and I knew his people well enough to recognize the respect and deference he was showing me. Unfortunately, that didn't help me understand what he was saying, and I stared at him with what I knew was a blank, dumb expression on my face. "I do?"

The Dredger stopped playing with the thin silver chain he'd loaned Ford to contain Koschei. It looked like nothing but a silvery piece of jewelry in his hands. He cocked a brow at me. "Ford said you had it."

"He did?"

Classy peered curiously at my face, and broke into low snickers. "Long night, wizard?"

I could only groan in reply. "I feel like I've been put through a wringer and run over a few miles of bad road until all the soft bits are raw -" It hit me then, with the unpleasant mental image. "Oh, I do have something of yours!"

"There you are, found the one thinky bit ain't fallin' down tired," the Dredger cheered me on as I groped around inside my trenchcoat.

"You guys coming out alright out of this one?"

"Well enough." He shrugged, then pointed to where Sophie was having an animated conversation with his people. "Learning about this thing called a Zanzibar market. Humans are fuckin' brilliant, wizard. You think you got one up on them and they're a fucking dozen steps ahead already. Ah, there's my beauty."

I handed over the Burning Witchwell. "You know the thing's nearly empty, right?"

"I know. Blackbird promised he'd empty it for us, lying crow's arsehole. Ain't in the business of killing me own fuckin' customers, wizard. The Witchwell's what I want, not the poison innit."

"Well, hell, if that's all you want I can empty it for you."

"Right?" The Dredger brightened up. "What's yer fee?"

"You know the Bag of Winds Ying Ying Amarin wanted?"

He grinned and winked at me. "You want a stitch or three should come loose on it?"

"That sounds perfect, unless it's gonna get you in trouble."

He cackled. "Caveat emptor, wizard. We're Dredgers. We find what's not to be found. We get into places and things we don't got no business puttin' our hands an' our mouths an' our teeth on. Ain't no one better'n us at what we do. You do business with us at your own risk an' peril." He gave me a yellow-toothed grin and offered me a hand to shake.

I took it without hesitation. "You mind if I do it tomorrow after I get enough sleep to maybe not kill myself and everyone else around?"

He laughed merrily and walked away.

FORTY THREE

The morning of the day after the party broke sunny, warm and beautiful, the sort that promised a hot, breezy summer noon, a perfect day to head down to the beach. Boston stirred under the clattering of the T and the scent of hundreds of little coffee shops, and the tidal wave was no longer the biggest bit of news.

Nate and Hardison met Stone on the steps of the Back Bay Station. Hardison handed the golem the spider's phone. Stone, once again dressed impeccably in a custom-tailored turtleneck and dress slacks, took it with care and tapped his thumb lightly on it. His surprise when the screen actually lit up was very obvious. "I was unaware such a thing was possible," he admitted. "You're giving me a very rare treasure, mister Hardison."

"You're gonna need it. At least until you can get a different setup. You can do tech and magic, you just gotta be willing to, you know. Compromise."

"You do understand this is temporary?" Nate told the golem. "We're not going to handhold you. You don't answer to us. We'll help you set up, but the job's yours, you and your people."

Stone seemed to think very carefully on his answer. "I have worked for someone or another for nearly all of my existence," he explained. "My security firm is the first attempt I have ever made at others working for me, and yet… it was still me, working for someone else. I think this opportunity you offer me, mister Ford - I think it is everything the wizard promised." He smiled thinly. "And I do have the shark to keep me honest."

Nate couldn't help but be a little amused at that. "In that case, here's something to remember today by." He handed over the plain plastic chess tower.

Stone stared at it, then pocketed it. "It will be kept safe as long as I can do such a thing."

Across the Concourse, Harry Dresden, professional wizard, was staring at the growing rivers of people coming and going, a trickle quickly turning into a flood. Boston was beautiful, alive, a city as worthy of attention and devotion as any other.

He couldn't wait to go home.

"Wizard," Classy's rough voice called out, and Harry turned. The Dredger, flanked by two of his people, came up to the wizard sedately, blinking a bit in the bright morning light. The wizard offered him the wrapped-up bundle of the Witchwell, sans duct-tape; Classy dug the small cylinder out and shook it. "Not a fuckin' drop. You do good work, wizard."

"Well, you know. When someone's not trying to kill me."

Classy chuckled. "All said, I'm glad this ain't your turf. Don't fancy the fight if we had to go up against you."

"Nicest thing anyone's said about me in a while," Harry assured the Dredger, and they shook hands. "Stay alive, mister Act."

"Same, mister Dresden. Safe travels and all that crap." The Dredgers turned and walked away, pausing briefly to nod politely at Sophie as they crossed paths.

The grifter was leading Parker and Eliot, and she hugged Harry without hesitation. "Oh, I feel like we ought to keep you here for a month, just to give all those bruises a chance to heal," she protested mildly.

"Believe me, I'm going home in one piece. That's more than I usually get," Harry assured her sheepishly.

"I really did mean it, you know. You were only supposed to be a consultant."

"I did consult," he replied with a lopsided grin. "This is the easiest consulting I've ever done. You told me everything I needed to know, you let me sleep, you fed me. Watered me. Watered me a lot." She had to grin at that. "Hot showers every day, dang. Doesn't get much better than that."

She pulled away, and Eliot offered his hand. "It's all the hot showers, huh?"

"I have no idea what your water heater's made of, but you should invest in the company."

Eliot, who wasn't about to tell Harry the water heaters at both the loft and the safehouse had been replaced three times, merely beamed at the wizard as they shook hands. "Sir."

"Sir."

"You're a good man, Harry. Violence doesn't make you a bad man." He shrugged a little. "It's just a thing we have to do sometimes. You're not responsible for other people's choices, no one is but them."

The wizard's grin stuttered. "You make it sound like it's easy."

"Hardest thing in the world, my man," the hitter admitted. "Because you gotta convince yourself of it every day, every time you get up and look in the mirror. Just remember: forehead to nose, not nose to nose."

"Elbow, not wrist," Harry repeated dutifully, his grin returning. "Or I just hit them with magic really, really hard."

Eliot laughed. "Or that." He bent down to ruffle Mouse's ears and ruff roughly, much to the young dog's delight, while Parker came to stand before Harry.

"Are you really going to be alright?"

"I mean, I'm probably gonna get some version of yelled at for not reporting the Blackbird thing," he admitted, punctiliously honest with her as he'd tried to be all along. "Are you? With Jess, I mean?"

"Oh, yeah, we're good. We're gonna be - we've got plans. We're good. Harry? Thank for you asking."

"Thank you for accepting me. Me, and what I am."

"But it's magic," she protested. "Who wouldn't?"

The wizard didn't say anything, he merely cut his gaze to one side. She turned and looked. "Oh. Right."

Nate and Hardison joined the little group, and the hacker offered his hand with a grin. "Mister Hacker," he said solemnly.

A snort of laughter burst out of Harry, and he offered his hand. "Mister Wizard," he replied.

"I am," Hardison agreed. "And you are. You know, I had the theory in my head, the thought that we were just two sides of the same coin. I'm glad I was right."

"I am super envious of everything you can accomplish," Dresden admitted readily. "Let's start there. But mostly I'm also so mad that we can't do more. If you ever figure out how we can work together without me frying all your equipment, I'll be the first one there."

"Holding you to that, Dresden."

"You bet."

Nate stared very levelly at the wizard. Harry stared just as levelly back.

"Walk with me, Dresden."

"My train -"

"- doesn't leave until Hardison lets it."

The two men walked across one edge of the Concourse, with the mastermind lost in thought. After a few moments, he reached into his jacket and offered Harry a plain white envelope. "Your pay. Plus incidentals, and so on."

"Jeez," Harry stared at the envelope, then pocketed it inside his duster. "Thank you."

Nate stopped and turned to face the wizard. "You did magic."

"I did."

The mastermind shook his head. "You know, after the MFA, Sophie was explaining it to me. She described it as being sheep in a pen facing a man with a shotgun."

"It's not… entirely wrong. But also not completely right."

"No?"

Dresden smiled thinly. "Sometimes the sheep have shotguns, too."

Nate made a faintly amused sound. "Sometimes the sheep hire a wizard."

"And now you know where ninety percent of my work comes from. Congratulations, another puzzle solved," Dresden teased.

"Yes, but -"

"But you don't like the shape of it?" The wizard shrugged. "Neither does most of the world. Give it time, Ford. In a few months you'll be looking for explanations, twisting your memories into things that fit your reality better. In a year you won't think twice about it."

"You make it sound so easy."

"That's because I've seen it happen most of my adult life, and all of my professional life."

Nate thought very carefully on that. "I don't like that. I don't like thinking that the only way this works is if I lie to myself. I'm not interested in being comfortable, or I wouldn't do what I do. I don't want, I don't need the world to be in order, Dresden. I need it to be fair."

"That's our job, not the world's," the wizard replied simply. "We make it fair."

Nate chewed on that. "So it is."

"Besides, I doubt Parker's gonna let you forget that magic's a thing that happens. And hell, there's Sophie right there with you, Ford. If you don't look at her and see what she does is magic, I'm not sure I can help you. I'm not sure anyone can."

That did make the mastermind grin, however crookedly. He turned and offered his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, mister Dresden. Can I add your number to our Rolodex?"

Harry shook it amicably. "Absolutely. Unless it's Portland."

"Worse than Boston?" They started walking back to the team.

"You have no idea. Besides, you'd have local help there if you needed it."

"Another wizard?"

"No." Harry gestured vaguely, as if to organize his thoughts before he spoke. "Do you happen to know what a Grimm is?"

[terriwriting]

Hardison hacked his file and gave himself a cool nickname when he was thirteen. Later he thought things over and, when he was sixteen, changed "h4ckm4stersupreme" to Underlord420. Later he rethought this and changed it to Beast669, and then 6ninja9, and then...

After doing this a few times he gave up and deleted all of the nicknames.

Alec Hardison is about to discover that the NSA printed out all of those altered files with his teenaged edgelord nicknames and kept them framed on the walls of the staff break room. He will discover this when the head of the NSA smiles at him and says, "Nice to meet you in person, SexWarriorX."

[gaerlhoss-a]

TAG DROP  –  eliot spencer & alec hardison

** also known as:  birdie and odette gave me different answers,  and let it never be said that I don’t take the advice of my friends. 

⤷  file  /  eliot spencer.

⤷  eliot  /  character study.

⤷  eliot  /  characterization.

⤷  eliot  /  visage.

⤷  eliot  /  interactions.

⤷  eliot  /  rel.  nate ford.

⤷  eliot  /  rel.  sophie devereaux.

⤷  eliot  /  rel.  alec hardison.

⤷  eliot  /  rel.  parker.

⤷  file  /  alec hardison.

⤷  hardison  /  character study.

⤷  hardison  /  characterization.

⤷  hardison  /  visage.

⤷  hardison  /  interactions.

⤷  hardison  /  rel.  nate ford.

⤷  hardison  /  rel.  sophie devereaux.

⤷  hardison  /  rel.  eliot spencer.

⤷  hardison  /  rel.  parker.

[the-erstwhile-baker]

The Renaissance Job

- [ ] You’re the Forger for the team; this involves getting every prop they need, set-dressing, etc. Realistically, Hardison shouldn’t have the time or skill to do ALL of it.

- [ ] You’ve been on the team since their move to Boston, when they realized they needed another person.

- [ ] You’re best friends with Parker and Hardison; you vibe with Parker’s neurodivergent energy and love talking sci-fi with Alec, even if your computer knowledge is. Tragically bad.

- [ ] You’ve had a crush on Eliot for months; you worry about him constantly on the job, but are always a little intimidated by him. Not that you think he would ever hurt you, but you just don’t think you and him are on the same level in terms of what you add to the team/your level of expertise. You make posters; he can take out a dozen armed guys without breaking a sweat.

- [ ] One day, one of your maker friends comes to you in distress that her corsetry designs have been stolen and copied by a popular fast fashion corporation

- [ ] She’s tried to sue for theft of intellectual property but as it wasn’t patented and they can afford way more court fees….it doesn’t go anywhere.

- [ ] At the next renfaire she and her husband were at, he was jousting and there was an “accident” that wasn’t really an accident. He was seriously injured, and she knows it was done by the company to silence her.

- [ ] She needs her designs back more than ever now, as her business is suffering and she can’t pay her husband’s medical bills if it keeps on this trajectory.

- [ ] Of course you bring her to Nate, and the team takes the job.

- [ ] At first, your plan is simple: break into the offices of the company with some ruse (think the fashion week episode, but a little calmer and more corporate) and create a distraction big enough to get Parker into the head guys office so she can plant a usb drive and Hardison can retrieve the design files.

- [ ] But when you get them, you realize: there are hundreds of other artists they’ve done this to. Hardison runs a search and finds out that quite a few of them have family members or have themselves sustained injuries under mysterious circumstances.

- [ ] It becomes a bigger picture: so, let’s go steal ourselves a Renaissance Faire.

- [ ] While you could pose as a maker yourself, you decide that the best way to handle this would be to steer the mark into the hands of the cops, so your cover doesn’t get too much scrutiny in a way that might negatively affect the case. Basically, you’re going to have to catch them red-handed in the actual act.

- [ ] So, you go undercover at a renfaire!!!!

- [ ] You have never been more excited

- [ ] You got to make renfaire outfits for all your friends, your crush, and yourself. Holy shit.

- [ ] Nate is the most practically dressed; simple, quasi-Elizabethan outfit: floppy circular hat, puffy pants, feather, brown cloak, etc. nothing too flashy, but definitely nice. He’ll be in the background, keeping an eye on everyone and everything—particularly the management of the faire.

- [ ] Sophie is enveloped in her fortune tellers getup: shawls, a headscarf, heavy makeup, many amulets, jangly bracelets, etc. she kinda loves it, though it is a bit much. It’s perfect for her. She’ll talk to makers and visitors through her sessions and gather information that way.

- [ ] Parker is dressed as a rogue: leather pants and jacket, all tightly fitted, with TONS of pockets and a utility belt with all kinds of fun toys that for once, she doesn’t even have to hide. She’s having so much fun getting to be entirely herself in public that she doesn’t even argue with you about the elf ears. She’ll be picking pockets of anyone the rest of the team deems suspicious, looking for connections to the corporation.

- [ ] Hardison, as there’s no tech to hack at a renfaire, is a jester. He is less than pleased about this. Though he’s a nerd, he prefers sci-fi to fantasy. (This confuses Eliot.) By far. He is very upset at the thought of a place with no computers and no modern amenities. He will be on pickpocket duty with Parker, providing distraction for her to steal, keeping an eye out, and making sure she doesn’t get herself into too much trouble. (Ha.)

- [ ] And Eliot….you simply couldn’t resist. And why should you? It was perfect for the con. You dress Eliot as a knight, complete with full suit of armor. He’ll be security, as usual, but also have another job. If/when the rest of you identify a maker who is likely to be the next target, he’ll act as bodyguard to them and whatever family they have there.

- [ ] And you. You’re dressed much as you would actually dress to go to a renfaire. Simple brown or green skirt with hikes, brown boots, lovely stays and a chemise. Your only real concession to fun is a set of beautiful deer antlers adorned with flowers, plus a little makeup. Hardison has gotten you into the renfaire lineup of performers as a musician; you plan to put the many folk songs and murder ballads you know to good use. The stage is set up right next to the makers’ tents, so you’ll have an excellent view and be able to point the others in a certain direction.

- [ ] It starts off fine

- [ ] Nate’s at the entrance, pretending to be management and keeping an eye both on employees and visitors coming in

- [ ] Sophie’s got her booth set up

- [ ] Without any specific mark to target yet, Parker is HAVING SO MUCH FUN. she’s turning cartwheels, stealing shit and then openly giving it back with a smile (causing many startled looks, as well as laughter) and it’s just making her so happy that she’s being completely herself—not Alice white—and people are accepting her.

- [ ] Hardison is wrangling her, pretending to be grumpy at “his girlfriend” but really loving watching her be so happy

- [ ] Eliot’s walking around near the makers tents and the stage, one hand on his sword (bc ofc u got him a sword, who are you kidding), looking out for trouble or people with any “distinctive” characteristics

- [ ] You’re onstage, about to begin your set of folk songs. You’re nervous, because the team has never heard you sing before and you’ve never really talked about that part of your life until the prep for this job

- [ ] You’re especially nervous bc Eliot is closest to you and can watch, though ofc everyone can hear you on comms

- [ ] You sing a few songs; Sophie says that she had an odd customer—he was twitchy and seemed disinterested in the reading until she told him to beware of the future of his career or something, and he freaked out a bit and snapped at her before leaving quickly.

- [ ] That puts Parker and Hardison on his tail; Hardison tells bad jokes in a weird, awful Shakespearean dialect. When no one laughs, he starts juggling badly, and then turns it into slapstick at his own expense, which finally gets laughs enough for Parker to steal the guys wallet

- [ ] She scans his cards and returns his wallet to him with a little bow. He’s angry and storms off, though the crowd sides with Parker for staying “in character.” She’s a lil confused but happy nonetheless.

- [ ] Parker and Hardison go back to Sophie’s tent where she’s put up a “closed” sign

- [ ] That’s where they’re keeping the tech

- [ ] Hardison does his thing and finds that he’s recently received a big payment from a shell company that traces back to the fast fashion corp

- [ ] During this Eliot is subtly tailing the guy while you and Nate keep an eye on things

- [ ] When Eliot sees the guy about to approach a booth, Nate tells you and Sophie to go help him and gather information

- [ ] The two of you make your way over there and plant a bug on the guy

- [ ] You and Sophie and Eliot continue shopping around while Hardison listens and Eliot keeps an eye out for suspicious activity

- [ ] Sophie asks you if you think a particular item would be a good favor to give your boyfriend

- [ ] You’re playing along, a little confused, until Sophie motions get head toward Eliot

- [ ] You blush hugely and deny everything (it just sounds like a cover convo to the rest of the team) but Sophie can tell the truth of everything. She buys the favor for you :)

- [ ] Just then Alec comes in saying that he’s just heard a very interesting convo from the bug, and plays it for y’all over comms

- [ ] It starts with the guy proposing a deal of some sort to the maker to sell their design to the company, but the maker refuses. The guy pretends to be okay with that, asking if he can just buy one then, “to admire it”

- [ ] The maker obvs says no, she’s heard about all the stuff going on and he’s not trying very hard to hide it. He then threatens her and her family without specifics. The maker still refuses and threatens to call the cops on him. He laughs and says good luck trying to prove anything, then walks away.

- [ ] Y’all meet up back at Sophie’s fortune telling tent to make a game plan

- [ ] Hardison runs the makers name and gets her relatives and friends names but how are you gonna know who they’re gonna target??

- [ ] You recognize one name though—from a sign at the faire. It’s her brother, who’s going to be fighting at the tournament

- [ ] Hardison runs a background check on the guy he’ll be fighting and it turns out it’s a fake persona

- [ ] Eliot looks at photos and videos and knows he’s a professional

- [ ] The fight starts in ten minutes and no one is sure quite what to do other than that you have to save the brother

- [ ] At first Eliot is just gonna go knock the guy out, but Nate stops him for two reasons. Firstly, because the company would just send another person another day. Secondly, because he thinks provoking him during the fight will get him to confess something.

- [ ] So y’all all run over to the tournament; Eliot takes the surcoat, banner, and helmet from the brother, briefly explaining what’s going on, and goes out for him (visor down, obvs)

- [ ] The hired guy fights dirty, and Eliot lets him get several good shots in until he gets in close

- [ ] The guy starts taunting him about his sisters designs, making it out to be her fault and her choice over him

- [ ] He basically confessed the whole plan in an attempt to intimidate who he thinks is the brother

- [ ] Eliot is wearing a mic, and Hardison tells him they’ve got it over comms; they’ll send it to bonanno later

- [ ] That’s when the guy hits Eliot really hard, and you scream his name in worry. Confused, the guy takes Eliot’s helmet off—and his face is priceless. Eliot then takes. Him. Down. In the most epic sword fight you’ve seen in person

- [ ] You’re VERY distracted by this turn of events

- [ ] The crowd loves it; they think all of this was just a particularly well-executed tournament for their entertainment

- [ ] The announcers ask him about the favor he’s wearing

- [ ] You’re confused when he blushes a little; wasn’t that just the favor the brother was wearing??? But as you look closer, you realize it’s the favor Sophie bought for you

- [ ] You glare at Parker, who immediately folds and says Sophie told her to

- [ ] You’re blushing furiously as they have you come down for a picture with Eliot, and you’re extremely embarrassed as he seems to be acting a bit awkward

- [ ] You don’t say much on the ride back, running the days events through your mind over and over

- [ ] You’re upset because you were having such a good time on this job—getting to dress your friends, sing, etc—but Sophie just had to meddle and now everything’s ruined and he’s probably never even going to speak to you again

- [ ] When you get back to the office, you head immediately for your workshop to distract yourself and be alone

- [ ] But that backfires

- [ ] Because a few minutes later Eliot walks in; he doesn’t know how to get the suit of armor off by himself

- [ ] You laugh a little bitterly, thinking that it’s just your luck

- [ ] You help him take everything off

- [ ] He’s awkward and doesn’t say much the whole time, making you feel even worse

- [ ] You take off the favor and are rambling about how it’s stupid and Sophie shouldn’t have bought it and so on and you’re just going to throw it away when Eliot stops you

- [ ] He asks if he can keep it

- [ ] You’re shocked and you briefly wonder if he means anything by it

- [ ] But then your defenses slam into place and you’re like “yeah sure, make fun of the nerd who makes stupid costumes and blah blah blah” “you obviously didn’t want to wear it with how you were acting after etc”

- [ ] And he’s confused and hurt like “why would I make fun of you and how is this doing that anyway”

- [ ] And finally you just can’t take it anymore and you look at him, crying, and you tell him you have feelings for him

- [ ] He’s confused and is like but you don’t talk to me very much

- [ ] You say you’re intimidated by him

- [ ] His shoulders slump and you immediately realize that you’ve made a mistake

- [ ] That he thinks of himself only as a killer, a weapon, and you think of him that way too

- [ ] You quickly move to reassure him that’s not what you meant, that you meant in terms of what he contributes to the team, what he’s able to do, that your job seems stupid and pointless by comparison

- [ ] He looks at you incredulous

- [ ] He talks about how you create things when he destroys

- [ ] And he admits that…he wants to keep the favor because he has feelings for you too

- [ ] He has for a long time

- [ ] And that hearing you sing was so distracting he almost blew the entire con

- [ ] That hearing you call his name gave him new strength

- [ ] (Not all this at once but interspersed throughout the scene)

- [ ] You kiss!!

- [ ] !!!!

- [ ] And then you hear cheers and clapping and are VERY confused

- [ ] Until you hear Alec say “goddamn, finally!” And realize with horror that you’ve still been on comms the entire. Fucking. Time.

- [ ] Eliot says “damn it Hardison” and blushes a LOT

- [ ] then you get a mischievous look in your eye and raise an eyebrow at Eliot

- [ ] He grins and says something to the effect of “you might not like hearing what comes next” and Hardison VERY QUICKLY turns off the comms

- [ ] You both take your earbuds out and laugh and laugh

- [ ] And begin to kiss some more.

- [ ] fin :)

[buzzmcnab]

[ID: 7 black and white gifs from Leverage. Hardison, Eliot, and Parker are sitting handcuffed in the back of a prison transport van with Colonel Vance.

1: Hardison, leaning forward: This is a violation of my constitutional rights.

2: Vance: You're Alec Hardison. You cracked the Pentagon servers when you were 12. N.S.A. has a file on you a mile long.

3: Hardison, smirking: Do they? What do they say about me? I hope they gave me a cool nickname.

4: Vance: Parker here, no file on you, which is...

5: Parker is asleep, her head leaned against the wall behind her.

6: Vance: Is she asleep?

7: Eliot: She bores easy.

End ID]