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- Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015) (7)
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- Marvel Cinematic Universe (2)
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
01 Mar 2019
The man looked up from the register and Stiles almost tripped and faceplanted onto the extremely hipster-looking floor. No human being could possibly have eyes that pretty. Stiles had to be trapped in some weird fever dream. Maybe he’d actually gotten hit by that bus and was in a coma, dreaming up gorgeous guys in over-priced coffee shops.
- Part 1 of just a phase
Betcha Didn't See That Coming by LoonyLoopyLisa, OriginalCeenote, ThatsCrazyRandom, the_problem_with_stardust
Fandoms: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
23 Feb 2019
Clint had reviewed some cold-cases the last time he was on desk duty and there were a couple that seemed impossible in every sense. But magic…
“Focus.” Natasha gripped his shoulders tight. “Tell me what happened. And don’t leave anything out.”
Or, the one where Clint gains the power to read minds. And he’s not alone…
It wasn’t really a conscious decision. At least, it didn’t start out as one.
Stiles had always worn too many layers: an undershirt, a t-shirt, a flannel, jeans, and a beanie, if he could get away with it. It wasn’t intentional, he was just comfortable.
But after Scott’s fingers brushed against the new girl’s when he passed her a pen, after Erica stumbled over her ridiculous high heels and directly into Boyd’s strong arms, Stiles decided he didn’t want to know. His sleeves got longer, his collars got higher, and heaven forbid he ever wore anything other than jeans or sweatpants.
Lydia caught herself before she could fall, the spiked heel of her Christian Louboutin bootie impaled on… a potato?
“Language, Miss Martin,” crowed the voice on the other end of the phone.
Rolling her eyes, Lydia surveyed the pile of produce on her porch. “Shut up, Stiles.”
“Who are you texting?”
Cora jumped at the sound of Stiles’ voice, hiding her phone under the table out of habit. Then she realized it was completely normal to text a fellow band member. Actually, the other two would probably be thrilled.
“Lydia can’t make it to lunch tomorrow. She has a thing.”
Derek joined them in the kitchen, nudging Stiles out of the way of a cabinet absentmindedly. “Is that who you’ve been texting?”
The name of the event seems innocuous enough, if a terrible mouthful – Black Tie Networking Cocktail Party for Finances and Technology.
"You're familiar with the organizer, so you know what this networking event is likely a front for," M says. "With your cybertechnology know-how, one of your civilian identities will do just fine to meet up with Val Tech."
Q's eyes dart to 004 and Bond on either side of M. "And the Double-Os, sir?"
"As you'll be the in-field operative for the mission, 007 will accompany you as a handler," M says.
"Really." Q can't help the way his tone drops in disbelief; from the way the corner of Bond's mouth twitches upwards, it's clear everyone hears it. "With all due respect, sir, 007 has a tendency to hijack missions even when he's the operative in question."
(Post-Spectre fic, where Q and Bond embark on an acquisition mission to obtain an important component in the cybertechnology war against Spectre, in which Q is the one wearing the suit and Bond the glasses, and the two of them have the chance to see the other in a different light).
Bookmarked by the_problem_with_stardust
21 Mar 2019
a canon divergent fic.
Stiles has been keeping a lot of secrets and John is at the point where he’s losing patience.
Right now, though, John’s standing on the lacrosse field, trying to forget about all the bodies that have turned up, and wondering where the hell his son is.
Oh, to have been matched with an accountant somewhere, Q would absently think as Bond crushed an extremely expensive communications device under his heel and took a woman with this or that piece of information to bed.
“If she stabs him,” Q would observe through gritted teeth. “It’ll serve him right.”
Q and Bond are soulmates. Between Q's family and Bond's... everything, it isn't as simple as it sounds.
Fandoms: James Bond - All Media Types
02 Dec 2015
In the books, you know when you find your soulmate. The world dims or sharpens, and you hear your heartbeat change to match theirs. It is somehow never a mystery.
In the real world, though, you don’t. It’s a handshake, or a brush in the crowd (or sometimes a fist on flesh and a bruise that aches for days). Most people find them, eventually. Some never know.
“You have an awfully common-named soulmate. This way he could find you easily.”
“By naming me Satan, dad?”
“We didn’t name you after the fallen angel, you foolish boy. Your mum wanted you and your sister to match and so both of you are named after the star gods.”