Ralkana's Ramblings...
For the short fic meme (you're awesome for doing it again), either 25 or 26 - whichever one grabs you, and c/c, please

torakowalski:

25 - Librarian / Avid Reader AU

(I cheated a little, but Clint will be an avid reader, eventually.)

“Homeless dude’s back,” Jasper says, handing Phil a stack of recently-returned books.

Phil automatically looks over at the Young Adult corner, where the same young man has sat for the past three days.

“I’m not sure he’s homeless,” Phil says.  They do have homeless visitors, sometimes.  Everyone ignores library policy and lets them use the bathrooms, and borrow books without a verifiable address.  This guy, though, just seems lonely.

Lonely and frustrated, Phil amends, watching him slam one book back into its place and pull out another, apparently at random.

Phil winces.  “Excuse me,” he says, mentally picturing creased covers, or worse.  Jasper snorts, as though he’s not at least as protective of the books in his sections.

Phil crosses the floor and crouches down beside the guy, who’s leaning back against a wall, out of sight of most of the library’s patrons.

“Did that book personally offend you?” Phil asks.

Read More

Kill the Messenger Jeremy Renner Intro for Regal Cinemas (x)

raiining:

adamantsteve:

(via NSFW: 9 Smutty Sign Language Phrases | Kristin Henson)

It’s hour thirty-six without sleep and while Phil knows he should be in bed, resting his eyes if nothing else, he can’t look away from his laptop screen.  
He hadn’t actually meant to google naughty sign-language phrases, he honestly hadn’t, but he’s exhausted and his filters are down.  Clint had used sign language during the op when their contact’s hearing aids had been damaged and Phil had found himself captivated by Clint’s fingers.  He’d known his asset knew sign language - it’s there in his file and if there’s one thing Phil knows, it’s Clint’s file - but he hadn’t seen it before.  It was a revelation to watch those well known and often fantasized fingers flying in a complicated pattern of a language without sound.
Phil had stumbled back to base, showered, and then flicked open his laptop intending to quiet his brain by learning a few simple phrases - ‘hello,’ maybe, or ‘how are you today?’  Just something he could whip out during a boring op somewhere.  It’s because he likes languages, he’d told himself, not because he wants to prove to Clint that he’s more than just an asset to Phil.  Clint knows that.  At least, Phil thinks Clint knows that.  He’s 95% certain.
It’s just that he’s never said it before.  Words are complicated things.  If he ever opened his mouth to say ‘you’re important to me’ he’d probably end up confessing how many times he’s dreamt of Clint at night and how often he thinks of him during the day.  A simple ‘have coffee with me’ would become ‘move in and never leave,’ and ‘can I kiss you’ would transform into ‘let me suck your cock.’
Which is not something Phil’s adverse to, he just doesn’t want to come off as a guy whose only interested in sex.  And somehow that thought had translated to his fingers and now Phil is staring at a website that is informing him how to sign ‘there’s a party in my pants and you’re invited’ with complete seriousness at 3am.
Phil blinks.  Against his better judgement, he memorizes the instructions.
It should have ended there.  Phil finally turns his laptop off and crawls into bed, closes his eyes and even manages to fall into an uneasy sleep.  But the problem is that he’s woken up forty-five minutes later by the external alarm.
Goddamn mercenaries attacking a S.H.I.E.L.D. base in the middle of the night.  Really, guys?  Really?
Getting a fraction of sleep is worse than getting no sleep at all.  By the time the last mercenary is dealt with and the base is locked down, Phil is swaying on his feet.  Clint, who must have collapsed immediately after their last op instead of googling obscure phrases at 3am, is at least functional, if not cheerful, so he volunteers to escort Phil back to his quarters when it becomes clear that he won’t make it on his own.
"I’m okay," Phil tries to tell him.  His eyesight is gritty and his mouth is dry and there’s a low, persistent ache echoing through every muscle in his body, but he’s on his feet and in one piece and honestly, that’s a good day.
"I know you are, sir," Clint says, and Phil can’t honestly tell if he’s humouring him or not, "but AD Hill told me to get you to your quarters and so that’s what I’m going to do."
"Because you’re a good agent," Phil says, while he wonders if his knees are about to buckle.
"That’s right," Clint agrees, and okay, now Phil knows he’s humouring him.  That’s a devilish grin in his eye. 
"You are,” Phil tries to insist.  Clint has to know this.  ”You - it - ”  He waves a hand.
"Uh huh," Clint says.  He’s not even listening, he’s reading the signs on the wall.  "Almost there, sir."
"No, but - coffee."  Phil says.  He screws up his eyes.  There’s a conversation he wanted to have.  "Cock."
Clint starts.  His grip loosens, and Phil almost slides out of it and down to the floor.  He manages to stop himself by grabbing the wall.
"Jesus, warn a guy, Coulson," Clint says.  He laughs, but it sounds strained.  
"Right?" Phil says, then stops and shakes his head.  That isn’t right.  What was he saying again?
"Words," he tries.  He gestures with both hands.  "Hard."
"That they are," Clint agrees.  He reaches for Phil again.  "Come on, sir, let’s get you back to your quarters so you can lay down before you fall down."
"No, wait," Phil shakes him off.   He points to his chest, then down to his pants and waves his hands the way google taught him, then indicates Clint and makes the ‘welcome’ sign.  "Right?"
Clint blinks at him.  Blinks again.  ”Okay.  Sleep now.”
That’s not what he meant at all.  ”But - “
"Phil," Clint interrupts, catching him when he sways forward.  "Let’s go to sleep, okay?  If you even remember this in the morning, ask me again when we wake up."
Phil shakes his head.  ”You’ll say no.”
Clint huffs.  ”I promise you, boss, if you ask again, in any language, I’ll say yes.”  They make it to a door Phil vaguely recognizes and Clint leads him in.  ”Here you go.”
Phil hooks his fingers into Clint’s field gear.  ”Stay?”
Clint looks down at him, naked want in his eyes, and then swallows.  ”Okay,” he says, gently untangling Phil’s fingers.  ”Okay.”
They toe their boots off and remove their outer gear, Phil’s hands shaking with exhaustion on the buckles and clips, before finally - finally - crawling into bed.  Phil sighs as he lays down, pulling Clint into his arms.  This isn’t what he had meant, exactly, but he’s not about to argue.  Clint smells nice.  
"Cock," he says again, and then, because that wasn’t exactly what he had meant to say, "Move in with me."
Clint chuckles in his arms.  ”Let’s start with coffee,” he says, the kisses the hands Phil has wrapped around him.  ”Now go to sleep.”
Phil nuzzles at Clint’s hair.  It’s just as soft as he always imagined it would be.  ”Okay.”

raiining:

adamantsteve:

(via NSFW: 9 Smutty Sign Language Phrases | Kristin Henson)

It’s hour thirty-six without sleep and while Phil knows he should be in bed, resting his eyes if nothing else, he can’t look away from his laptop screen.  

He hadn’t actually meant to google naughty sign-language phrases, he honestly hadn’t, but he’s exhausted and his filters are down.  Clint had used sign language during the op when their contact’s hearing aids had been damaged and Phil had found himself captivated by Clint’s fingers.  He’d known his asset knew sign language - it’s there in his file and if there’s one thing Phil knows, it’s Clint’s file - but he hadn’t seen it before.  It was a revelation to watch those well known and often fantasized fingers flying in a complicated pattern of a language without sound.

Phil had stumbled back to base, showered, and then flicked open his laptop intending to quiet his brain by learning a few simple phrases - ‘hello,’ maybe, or ‘how are you today?’  Just something he could whip out during a boring op somewhere.  It’s because he likes languages, he’d told himself, not because he wants to prove to Clint that he’s more than just an asset to Phil.  Clint knows that.  At least, Phil thinks Clint knows that.  He’s 95% certain.

It’s just that he’s never said it before.  Words are complicated things.  If he ever opened his mouth to say ‘you’re important to me’ he’d probably end up confessing how many times he’s dreamt of Clint at night and how often he thinks of him during the day.  A simple ‘have coffee with me’ would become ‘move in and never leave,’ and ‘can I kiss you’ would transform into ‘let me suck your cock.’

Which is not something Phil’s adverse to, he just doesn’t want to come off as a guy whose only interested in sex.  And somehow that thought had translated to his fingers and now Phil is staring at a website that is informing him how to sign ‘there’s a party in my pants and you’re invited’ with complete seriousness at 3am.

Phil blinks.  Against his better judgement, he memorizes the instructions.

It should have ended there.  Phil finally turns his laptop off and crawls into bed, closes his eyes and even manages to fall into an uneasy sleep.  But the problem is that he’s woken up forty-five minutes later by the external alarm.

Goddamn mercenaries attacking a S.H.I.E.L.D. base in the middle of the night.  Really, guys?  Really?

Getting a fraction of sleep is worse than getting no sleep at all.  By the time the last mercenary is dealt with and the base is locked down, Phil is swaying on his feet.  Clint, who must have collapsed immediately after their last op instead of googling obscure phrases at 3am, is at least functional, if not cheerful, so he volunteers to escort Phil back to his quarters when it becomes clear that he won’t make it on his own.

"I’m okay," Phil tries to tell him.  His eyesight is gritty and his mouth is dry and there’s a low, persistent ache echoing through every muscle in his body, but he’s on his feet and in one piece and honestly, that’s a good day.

"I know you are, sir," Clint says, and Phil can’t honestly tell if he’s humouring him or not, "but AD Hill told me to get you to your quarters and so that’s what I’m going to do."

"Because you’re a good agent," Phil says, while he wonders if his knees are about to buckle.

"That’s right," Clint agrees, and okay, now Phil knows he’s humouring him.  That’s a devilish grin in his eye. 

"You are,” Phil tries to insist.  Clint has to know this.  ”You - it - ”  He waves a hand.

"Uh huh," Clint says.  He’s not even listening, he’s reading the signs on the wall.  "Almost there, sir."

"No, but - coffee."  Phil says.  He screws up his eyes.  There’s a conversation he wanted to have.  "Cock."

Clint starts.  His grip loosens, and Phil almost slides out of it and down to the floor.  He manages to stop himself by grabbing the wall.

"Jesus, warn a guy, Coulson," Clint says.  He laughs, but it sounds strained.  

"Right?" Phil says, then stops and shakes his head.  That isn’t right.  What was he saying again?

"Words," he tries.  He gestures with both hands.  "Hard."

"That they are," Clint agrees.  He reaches for Phil again.  "Come on, sir, let’s get you back to your quarters so you can lay down before you fall down."

"No, wait," Phil shakes him off.   He points to his chest, then down to his pants and waves his hands the way google taught him, then indicates Clint and makes the ‘welcome’ sign.  "Right?"

Clint blinks at him.  Blinks again.  ”Okay.  Sleep now.”

That’s not what he meant at all.  ”But - “

"Phil," Clint interrupts, catching him when he sways forward.  "Let’s go to sleep, okay?  If you even remember this in the morning, ask me again when we wake up."

Phil shakes his head.  ”You’ll say no.”

Clint huffs.  ”I promise you, boss, if you ask again, in any language, I’ll say yes.”  They make it to a door Phil vaguely recognizes and Clint leads him in.  ”Here you go.”

Phil hooks his fingers into Clint’s field gear.  ”Stay?”

Clint looks down at him, naked want in his eyes, and then swallows.  ”Okay,” he says, gently untangling Phil’s fingers.  ”Okay.”

They toe their boots off and remove their outer gear, Phil’s hands shaking with exhaustion on the buckles and clips, before finally - finally - crawling into bed.  Phil sighs as he lays down, pulling Clint into his arms.  This isn’t what he had meant, exactly, but he’s not about to argue.  Clint smells nice.  

"Cock," he says again, and then, because that wasn’t exactly what he had meant to say, "Move in with me."

Clint chuckles in his arms.  ”Let’s start with coffee,” he says, the kisses the hands Phil has wrapped around him.  ”Now go to sleep.”

Phil nuzzles at Clint’s hair.  It’s just as soft as he always imagined it would be.  ”Okay.”

roane72:

knitpool:

This photoset is especially for the folks who voted for my next project to be Sam Wilson. So here he is…just in time for him to stop being Falcon and become the new Cap! (No rest for the wicked.) I went with a t-shirt and 511s instead of the official uniform. He was already going to be complicated, and he can go casual now too. His wings are detachable, and his guns are attached via little magnets. I hear Anthony Mackie’s sister knits. Maybe she will see this!

HOLY CRAP THIS IS AWESOME

meekobits:

Prompt: Nat and Sam getting Bucky ready for Halloween.

meekobits:

Prompt: Nat and Sam getting Bucky ready for Halloween.

believebeluga:

cetaceandreams:

Levitate

Wingardium leviorca

believebeluga:

cetaceandreams:

Levitate

Wingardium leviorca

“I would have stopped if I was miserable, but I found something when I was 18 that I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and I continued doing it and growing and falling on my face. I love the journey, and I think having a plan B is just planning to fail. I still may stop if I feel like I’m not learning.”

get into hockey they said.
it will be fun they said.
stop crying because of a stanley cup commercial they said. 

awbuckyno:

Color Meme: Lorne → Complementary Colors (red + green)

(requested by )

lostandhufflepuff:

monocleenterprises:

"And that was how I found out."

#’DID WE FORGET TO TELL YOU WE HIRED YOU FOR ANOTHER MOVIE

I love SO MUCH that they caught it on camera.

So, do you have crush on any fictional character who has NOT killed a man?
Anonymous

the-pietriarchy:

the-pietriarchy:

I did not realize that this got 400+ notes I think we all need a support group

alicexz:

Doing Victoria Ying’s supercool color challenge, ‘cause I gotta do some personal art in between all this client work or I’ll go crazy!

Red for #7daysofcolor, featuring Star-Lord. Follow me on Twitter for more timely updates on this challenge~

alicexz:

Doing Victoria Ying’s supercool color challenge, ‘cause I gotta do some personal art in between all this client work or I’ll go crazy!

Red for #7daysofcolor, featuring Star-Lord. Follow me on Twitter for more timely updates on this challenge~

golden-femme:

mike peterson deserves to be a part of the team about 100000000000000000000000000000000000x more than grant ward.  if you really believe that people deserve a chance at redemption then you should be screaming from the tops of building how much mike deserves a second chance way, way, way before you even start opening your mouth about ward (who btw waived off responsibility for his actions by claiming they weren’t “personal”).