Arthur and Eames suck at phone sex.

Sirius writes a book review, after a fashion.

The hammer is his penis.

Or rather, Thor's dick is a hammer, and Clint's ass is the nail.

Most people, when they break up, sort through their record collections, possibly chuck each other’s clothes onto the sidewalk, engage in soul-destroying coffee dates where they try to sort through the emotional debris, and then leave each other the fuck alone.

Clint and Natasha were never very good at acting like normal people, though, which is why they run a cafe together.

It might be difficult to seduce someone when you want to climb their boyfriend like a tree. Merlin learns this the hard way when Uther mistakes him for someone who knows how to seduce anyone at all.

"Did you know," Rodney said, sitting down across from Sheppard in the mess and automatically reaching over to snatch away John's chocolate Snack Pack, "that you and Samantha Carter graduated from the academy the same year?"

John set down his half-finished turkey sandwich and shoved a few crinkle fries around his mostly-full plate, looking inscrutable.   "Did we," he said.

Erik returns to the mansion to find that the students don't exactly trust him, and they'll do whatever it takes to keep him and Charles apart even if it means more learning. Charles is simply pleased the students are so keen on their studies.

In which Brad is a desperately self-sacrificing HRH, Nate is not happy about being blind-sided, Ray wants to kill the Swedish press corps, and Walt is present in the background like a good bodyguard.

Every office has a 'cute guy from Marketing with a great ass' that everyone wants to sleep with. Among the junior agents at SHIELD, that person is Phil Coulson. Clint would find it hilarious, but he just wants people to stop throwing themselves at his boyfriend.

It's around when Ray wants to hold Walt's hand like a goddamn teenage girl with stars in her eyes and wet panties that he starts to worry.

Taking care of Tony is a lot of work. Especially when you’ve only got one arm. And your code dates back to the 1980s.

This was not a normal day. This day existed to prove that hell was real and it came with musical accompaniment by will.i.am. On this day, Steve figured out how to get him out of the office and torment him at the same time by sending him to the godforsaken DNC where it was all 'we shall overcome,' oh-happy-day bullshit.

They don’t fuck in the Avengers’ Mansion, that’s rule number one of Having A Secret Relationship With Your Ex-Handler.

Epistolary fic. Eames wants a job. Arthur mostly wants Eames to shut up.

Harvey didn't want to be profiled in a magazine as one of New York's most eligible bachelors. Nobody even knew Mike had been.

Walt informs him that the dog is a flat coated retriever, which doesn't tell Ray all that much. What the dog is, is a ball of fluff with big, pretty eyes, which kind of makes sense, because, well, Walt's dog.

Darcy Lewis got hired to work as an office monkey for S.H.I.E.L.D. at least partially because of her SCUBA certification. She never quite expected to use it.

[fireandice] (18.35): If, on the other hand, you’re writing, as I suspect you are, for Midgardian fangirls, then get straight to the point. Armour off, shield down, straight to the fighting and fornication.

[hammer_time] (18.37): What’s a “fangirl”?

[fireandice] (18.38): Don’t be disingenuous. If you didn’t want me to know what Livejournal communities you frequent, you should have picked a less obvious username, oh God of Thunder.

Steve is adapting well to the new millennium, and he has the dictionary to prove it.

Brad gets a new call-sign.

"Angel, we called this intervention because -"

"Wait. Intervention?" This was definitely the first time anyone had used that word.

Cordelia plowed on, ignoring him. "Because you've seemed a little, well, down lately."

"Buffy died. The world almost ended. The wheels came off my rolly chair. It's been a tough week."

Not that Poke's complaining, but he's never, ever again playing a motherfucking yenta to anyone on his team. Or anyone ever again. Sure, the mental soap opera was driving him nuts, but this is worse, this time the stray sexual thoughts coming from certain retards are real, and it's a hell lot more than he had ever wanted to know.

Poke's quite good at cutting off the stream of people's thoughts, but every once in a while something gets through and it's going to put him in therapy for years. No one should be exposed to fucking Iceman's rhapsodizing on LT's eyes. Or his dick. Poke's not sure which one is worse – the cheese or the porn.

Ray stops and reconsiders. There are at least four telepaths on the base, that he knows of, and he has been repeatedly told his thoughts are disruptive and inappropriate for the workplace.

He says, fuck them, it's probably the only time the goat-fucking nutjobs get to have any fun in here, Ray is doing them a huge favor and should be rewarded.

Stafford would like you to know, Ray is not the only person who can know somebody really well.

By the time he had teamed up with the one that looked like a very young Tristan, and the one that looked like Bedevere, if Bedevere had been a changeling, or, at least, vaguely fey, he still had not found Merlin.

Brad and the LT are always doing their eyefucking thing, with the LT's honest-to-fuck cocksucker mouth tilted up to one side and Brad letting his whole Iceman facade down. Even now, when they've finally stopped and the LT is here talking to Brad with his shiny green fuck-me eyes. (Not that Ray will ever tell Brad about the LT's mouth or eyes. Ray might be in a motherfucking war, but he doesn't have a death wish.)

The day the McKays moved into Eureka Jack got approximately a dozen phone calls from Fargo, who was hiding under a desk in his office at Global Dynamics.

"Do you know when I last saw Rodney McKay?" Fargo whispered through the telephone line. "I last saw Rodney McKay when he was threatening to kill me using a protractor during a seminar he was leading in graduate school! This was before he started to lose his hair! Can you just imagine what a safety threat he is by now?"

“What the fuck, McKay!” John yelled. “I can’t take you anywhere!”

@dr_dr_mckay is stuck in a jumper at the bottom of the ocean & needs your help! Please RT!!

Jack feels that the words "The good thing is ..." are always a little ominous.

It should have been a brilliant arrangement. Sex that didn't count was vastly superior to no sex at all and had the added benefit of no attachments and no expectations.

This is a fucking commie story. You think it’s all about the importance of trying new shit, but that’s not what it’s about at all. It’s about harassing innocent children into becoming fucking commies. Don’t read your kids this shit. It will turn them into America hating commies.

Bravo platoon as a fraternity.

Brad is hiding under the Humvee again.

"People on the Internet are writing porn about us..."

Draco has convinced the Auror department to test his new messaging charm for secure communications. Harry really would have preferred that he not find out through messages like, 'Yeah, tonight you're going to beg me for it,' that the system wasn't as secure as they thought.

“I don't think the definition of 'easy' includes being shot at by Russians and getting cock-blocked by your best friends!” Arthur shouts.

This could be the beginning of something amazing ... if Dom and Mal will only stay out of Arthur's way. A story in which there are Russians, Arthur spends a lot of time in his underwear, and (sadly) no one gets laid.

And that's how Tony's supervillainy hobby got way way way complicated.

DON'T SET YOUR KIDS ON FIRE. I really can't say that enough.

Every single day, the same position,
Fighting for supremacy.

"Didn't we all read this one in the 70s? It's earthy and all the cartoon people are fat." Coda fic for How Not to Fly, set not long after the end of that story.

In which the Avengers take advantage of some unexpected downtime around Tony's pool and several of Clint's tattoos are discussed. Including the one just over his heart.

It could be a better day. When the lift breaks somewhere between the third and fourth floors of New Scotland Yard, it gets worse than Hleb missing by a fucking mile.

Basically, Charles Xavier needs a date to his tenth high school reunion. Enter Erik Lehnsherr, Raven’s best friend, who happens to be a model and the new face of Calvin Klein.

And it’s during this miracle that Harvey happens upon them, bent low over Mike’s motherboard and trying to figure out where that hissing noise is coming from and why it sounds like parseltongue.

“I don’t know what that is, but I have a feeling you should keep your tongues to yourself on company time. Just an FYI. Footnote: now that you’ve got a new boyfriend does that mean I’m off the hook? Can I stop shaving my legs again?”

Ben gapes at Harvey like he’s just told him that jQuery is for n00bs.

Mike pats him in what he hopes is a mollifying manner and shushes Harvey in what he knows isn’t half as scolding a tone as he intends.

Mike and Harvey wake up in Vegas. It's pretty much all downhill from there.

"Arthur, you're about to be deported."

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a text in possession of more than a passing reference to a certain literary work that shall not be named, must begin with the phrase 'It is a truth universally acknowledged'.

Erik is the extremely talented, extremely scary chef at one of the top restaurants in New York, and Charles, the head waiter, is the only person with the balls to stand up to him. Their fights are the stuff of legend, and their argument over the Valentine's Day menu turns into one for the history books.

"Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush here. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders in addition to training and experience. I'm calling to offer you a job as Eames' fulltime bodyguard for his upcoming summer tour."

If a top secret file on Phil Coulson and Clint Barton's relationship existed, it would look something like this.

Where it was Nick Fury's idea, but he didn't mean it like that.

So then, because he’s Hardison, he created a fandom.

"Come on," John said, "You can't tell me no one's ever thought to try that."

Naked might actually have been slightly less distracting. Tony was… almost wearing… a tiny, tight scrap of red fabric that most definitely didn't hide anything.

Note: Written for cap_ironman's Alphabet Challenge. The dissolving-armor-reveals-red-thong scenario is in fact the canonical way that the Avengers discovered Iron Man's identity, because every once in a great while, Marvel actually does love us.

Harvey sometimes moonlights as a Star Trek BNF. Mike might have an attitude problem on the internet. TiberiusGhost is strangely compelling, for a recluse who never goes to meetups, and Harvey's finding this kid Photohead vaguely familiar.

Day 214 on the campaign trail of Steve Rogers for President. Twenty-sixteen's turning out to be a hell of a year.

Fury's a beautiful princess. Clint's plotting a Communist revolution. Rhodey's not sexy. Wall-E's not a documentary. Clint's not gay but he does give a great blowjob. This fic is not an AU.

So there's this thing going around Tumblr where this dog leaves food for in his bowl for weeks and the human eventually discovers he's carefully saving back food for a stray pregnant cat. Cat is eventually adopted by human and cat and dog live happily in interspecies harmony. It is adorbs.

Candy, who is an amazing human being that I probably should never actually talk to because horrible things would happen to the universe, was like OH MY GOD YOU GUYS THIS SHOULD BE KIRK/SPOCK

Prompt: Starfleet!AU - Human!Erik thinks Charles is the worst Vulcan ever. In which Erik is distressed by a Vulcan shaking hands with him and then very blatantly inviting him to *cough* observe his nocturnal habits.

Sherlock is bored (BORED) and John decides that they should play Cluedo. In retrospect, it was a truly awful decision.

”These are the most dysfunctional people on the planet... They could not be more ill-fitted. What better definition of family?” - Joss Whedon

The entire female population of Sunnydale has turned into rampant lesbian nymphomaniacs, and only the Magic Penis of Re-orientation can save the day!

Okay, he plays World of Warcraft, but it’s a lot like spending a night hooked up with lines connecting to the PASIV device. Just minus the needle. And with a $15-per-month surcharge. It’s a fair trade, he decides, as another murloc dies by his hand.

Mike and Harvey are in a relationship. They just don't know it yet.

"It's come to my attention," says Pierce, "that Jeff is dead."

(But Sherlock Abed is born).

Boundaries are for other teams.

Kirk and Spock temporarily have charge of a kid.

Set one year post movie, Charles overloads himself in Cerebro, and his mind goes walkabout; wherever he is (and he’s around), it’s not in his body. Erik temporarily takes over the school in his absence, and finds that there’s little time for resentment or hatred when he’s busy organizing assigned reading for English lit, keeping the youngest children out of trouble, and trying to talk Raven into wearing clothing for the boys’ sake. Somewhere in between taking responsibility for the students and dreaming Charles’ dreams every night, he manages to remember that he’s something rather more than a weapon. In other words: A Love Story between two Gentlemen, told in Prose, Epistles, and Nonsense Rhymes.

The new Muggle Prime Minister meets the Minister for Magic.

Parody endings to An Ideal Grace (aka how Erik could have found out, but didn't).

The one where all the Avengers act like Darcy is a bro and Clint is really bad at flirting.

aka the juicebox fic. In which Arthur's ass is magic and Eames likes sticking his tongue into small, tight holes.

Crowley is, apparently, being recalled for good. Aziraphale doesn't like what that does for the Arrangement.

Arthur likes to invent things. And grow mustaches. He's a man of many facets.

As Eames turns to lead them around the building Arthur catches his hand. Eames doesn't flinch away or look down. Arthur taps in Morse code against Eames's palm.

SITREP

Eames taps back FUBAR.

But before Arthur could decide if he should be worried or angry, the voice continued: “We know about you and Jack Eames, Arthur.”

Plenty of people get themselves blackout drunk and wake up with an unexpected husband. It's embarrassing but it happens. Natasha is trying to figure out how she could have woken up with an unexpected brother.

Whereupon great was the wrath of Pharaoh’s magician, and he looked upon the man of Israel with a wicked yellow eye, and spake harshly unto him, saying, What art thou doing in this place? Verily, I thought we had agreed this was my turf.

And the man of Israel did shrug, and looked dismissive and likewise apologetic, and he answered Pharaoh’s magician, saying unto him, New orders from on high, you know how it is.

7 And their leader, who was fair and just and a little pudgy about the hips, for he had a penchant for baked goods, stepped forth and lo, he shone with the wisdom of the LORD.