what the hell is an eliot

a thing I will probably never be over: in the 12 steps job the way eliot’s hand shakes when he reaches into the car to yank the wires out of the bomb

like this is a guy who went up against an entire room of mooks with guns armed with nothing more than a cup of tea and he finished the tea first like………….very little shakes eliot spencer. he has Seen Some Shit and been though seven kinds of hell. he does what needs to be done, and if he goes out in the course of what’s right, then so be it.

but it’s hardison sitting on the bomb. and that’s a whole different story.


The Coronation scenes, suggested by @space-delinquents
Eliot | Margo | Alice | Quentin

I feel like it’s impossible for me to explain how much I love Eliot Waugh. So let me start with some of his quotes.

“I bond fast. Time is an illusion.”

Quentin: If you’re trying to tell me that it gets better-
Eliot: Oh, God, no. It doesn’t. I’m trying to tell you, you are not alone here.

“I think something might really be…broken.”

“Becoming me was the greatest creative project of my life.”

“I know I said I didn’t need a family to become who I was supposed to be, but it turned out that I did. And it was you.”
—A letter Eliot wrote to Quentin

Dean Fogg: What were you expecting when you dove headfirst into that fountain?
Eliot: …I was expecting to die.

Eliot is so, so sad, and he is so, so tortured. By killing someone who made his life absolute hell, he discovered he was telekinetic. He had to kill someone else - someone he loved - to protect everyone else. He lost his two best friends for a period of time because of a stupid, under-the-influence decision he made, but the thing that killed him the most was the thought of losing Quentin - and only Quentin.

He threw himself - as his clay-made clone - in front of an attack directed at Quentin without even thinking about what could happen. He didn’t care what could happen to him. He threw himself in front of Quentin, in front of a fatal attack, as second nature. He didn’t care what happened to him, as long as Quentin was okay.

And, despite everything that happened, he still became the High King of Fillory. He will go down in Fillorian history as High King Eliot, The Spectacular, because that is what he is. Despite wanting to die. Despite the bad things that had happened to him. Despite all of that. He will still be known as one of the greatest Kings to rule over Fillory. And even though it is fictional, if that isn’t uplifting and if it doesn’t give you hope, there is something seriously wrong with you.

none of the magic nerd squad is particularly excited about mother’s day. normally they would spend the day moping around, getting drunk beyond belief, and skipping class, but during a rare point in the day where they are all gathered in the common room together, alice steps forward and hands penny a wrapped box.

“what the hell is this for?” he snaps.

“happy mother’s day.” alice giggles shyly, grinning in a way that she rarely does.

eliot is the first one to burst out with a high-pitched snicker, and the rest of the group follows, laughing at the resigned–yet admittedly motherly–look on penny’s face.

Eliot is gay... does Fen not know this?

When I purchased ‘The Magicians’ season 1 there was a deleted scene where Margo talks to Fen about the marriage, and what it would entail.  It’s how she finds out Eliot will be bound to Fillory forever and be celibate to one wife.  She also told Fen flat out that Eliot was gay. 

Since that scene was cut has anyone actually TOLD Fen Eliot’s sexual preferences?  Why the hell hasn’t he told her himself, flat out?  ‘I’m gay’ why is that so hard?  Why are the show runners stepping back from having an openly gay character not share such a fundamental part of his identity? 

I’m sure people have ranted about this before, but to me it feels like a form of homophobia in the worst way. I’m just going to lie to this woman about what I want, and who I am, and magically everything will work out… OH AND we are going to have a baby on top of everything… because kids make EVERYTHING better. 

Eliot never married in the books, and that was okay, he was openly gay and proud of it, and he didn’t need a wife to fix things. 

This is the core thing that bugs me about this show.  It bugged me last season, it continues to bug me now. 

anonymous asked:

Hi Brian, I'm writing my comic currently and am fairly set on the premise. At what point do you decide on the ultimate ending vs creating an open ending for possible future comics without ruining the end if turns out there wont be future issues? Thanks!

there are many many schools of thought on this. 

some feel you HAVE to know the ending before you start or you won’t even know what or why you are writing…

but T.S. Eliot said, “The end is in the beginning.”

but others still…

Don’t rush or force the ending of a story or book.  All you have to know is the next scene, or the next few scenes.  You don’t have to know every moment up to the end, in fact, if you do it’ll be boring as hell to execute.  - Chuck Palahniuk

“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”
Frank Herbert

The third act must build, build, build in tempo and action until the last event, and then — that’s it. Don’t hang around.

“The end of a melody is not its goal: but nonetheless, had the melody not reached its end it would not have reached its goal either. A parable.”
Friedrich Nietzsche

Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop. ~Lewis Carrol

I’ve personally written hundreds of stories and I’ve discovered… they’re all right.

some stories just tell you what they need or do not need before you start while others tell you one ending but when you get to the end ANOTHER ending reveals itself. the real true ending.  the only ending, and you could have only gotten there by tricking yourself with the original ending.

but. never forget her words…

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity. ~Gilda Radner


@ thatsnarkydragon : oh, man, I have now giffed these scenes so many times, and I still want to cry about it. To add something new, here’s my painstakingly done transcription of the audio commentary for these scenes:

John Rogers: Now, this was interesting. We had a long talk in the writers’ room what this scene was gonna be. Because it is “why hasn’t –” because, let’s face it. Aldis, you’re a good looking man. You’re a very good looking man.
Aldis Hodge: Thank you.
JR: And, Beth, good looking woman. Why has that relationship not progressed farther, you know? And we wanted to not just do the hackneyed “because she was abused as a child,” because, you know, and so we really wanted to work on “why?” And it’s because she doesn’t feel worthy of the friends she’s made and the family she has.
AH: Gotcha.
JR: And a lot of this year is her feeling good enough about herself and feeling like she’s a good enough person to be with.
AH: You know, John, Sexual Chocolate gets a lot of mail about that, you know what I’m saying? It’s true, and I gotta figure out how to explain it.
JR: I know. I know. Boss of Sexual Chocolate also gets a lot of mail about that.
AH: Just saying.
JR: But look at this woman, look at this woman!
AH: That’s ridiculous.
JR: I mean, she’s melting down here. And, by the way, when we’re shooting this? Crew is crying, people behind the set are crying, I mean, she’s just devastating here.
Dean Devlin: She nails this.
AH: Yeah.
DD: It’s also this whole thing about she wants to do the right thing and trying to understand what the right thing is.
JR: That’s what’s great about Parker and what we so lucked into establishing this character first year and that Beth has done a great job of. Most shows have someone who’s just trying to do the right thing, we actually have a character who’s not sure what that is yet. And so it allows us an extra step of that character building. I mean, you know, that’s why we have to go so slow. We don’t want to fastplay this. These are real people in our heads.
AH: Now, what was the motivation between, I mean, as far as putting Parker and Eliot together in that particular situation?
JR: Because, I’ll tell you exactly why, because this is the year Parker starts to figure out that she’s actually a “better person” – quote, unquote – than she thinks she is. And this is the scene, right here. Eliot, because of the events of last year, has come to peace with who he is. And this is the thing, Eliot isn’t trying to redeem himself. A lot of people think Eliot, “oh, he’s doing good things to redeem himself,” Eliot knows he’s going to hell. But he can do some good along the way. And he can help his friends. And that’s his role this year, is a man who is very secure in who he is and who he isn’t in the world. Beth’s previous scene is amazing. This is some great acting, Christian is killing it here. Because what he has to do is he has to reach across this gulf, and, by the way, it only happened because of the way Christian and Beth have played this over the years. Eliot and Parker have a very specific relationship, it’s not brother/sister, it’s not boyfriend/girlfriend, but it is “I know the pain you’re carrying, because I carry a version of it.” And Eliot, at a lot of times, is the only one who can reach across to her, across that gulf, and in that moment, there’s no crying, it’s not showy, Christian acts the shit out of that moment. That is one of the keystone moments of the entire season right there.

Does anyone else have a favorite bit or highlight from The Long Way Down Job?

@zahnie i am kind of mad tbh bc now i keep thinking about that leverage/batman crossover and it’s ridiculous. they’re using a charity gala as a way to get into the manor. eliot immediately pegs alfred for former mi6, but he can’t figure out what the fuck bruce’s deal is. something about the way he stands or the way he watches the room or his shoulders or something. “is it not distinctive enough?” “oh, it’s distinctive as hell, i just don’t know what it is”. let’s say it’s older bruce so hardison has to get into a hacker fight with tim. sophie can’t grift bc there are too many rich people who’d recognize her in attendance. parker can’t infiltrate the catering service because they run that shit tighter than the white house (WHY is he so paranoid about his CATERERS what the HELL i’ve seen BANKS less lax about tracking employees than this) so she has to pretend to be a model. that backfires so fast because bruce is so nice and wants to know if she’s okay bc she seems uncomfortable. parker is thrilled when she discovers the house is full of secret passages but that also ends poorly when she turns a corner and bruce is standing there like “hey there, you seem lost”. he’s still wearing the tux and drinking his champagne. he helpfully guides her to the bathroom since she is having such trouble finding it. eliot has a tense standoff with alfred bc this is wayne manor alfred and that means he is like an older, british eliot who’ll shoot a motherfucker. hardison and tim get distracted playing wow together and it isn’t clear exactly how that happened. there has to be at least one scene where eliot and bruce are fighting and the rest of the team just watches instead of doing anything useful because it’s actually kind of really hot. they don’t even really hurt each other so it’s fine. probably fine. just let them keep pinning each other to the floor for a while, it’s fine. bruce has a lot of helpful critiques for nate’s plan that nate does not appreciate. the obvious thing is that they figure out he’s batman but it’s kind of funnier if they don’t and just think bruce wayne is an inexplicable bamf. they’ve all learned a valuable lesson about judging people based on appearances. bruce flirts with sophie and nate pretends not to be bitter about it but he gazes out at the gotham skyline and broods. it’s just what happens when you’re in gotham. it’s a very broodworthy skyline. make fun of batman all you want but you look out at that skyline and try not to brood. you can’t. even superman broods. i mean, he looks like he’s brooding. he’s usually trying to remember if he left the oven on because every time he decides to make himself a nice dinner a supervillain attacks and four hours later his baked ziti is charcoal. it still counts as brooding. nate never stood a chance.

Hot Chocolate

The Magicians, Quentin x Margo x Eliot friendship

Word count: 2k

Summary: Quentin has well meaning potentially murderous best friends. 

A steaming mug of … something suddenly appears in Quentin’s line of sight. He frowns, following the length of the hand and arm holding the cup out in front of him, up to a shoulder and oh. It’s Eliot. “What?” Quentin asks, eyeing the mug warily.

Eliot sighs, “It’s hot chocolate,” He says, shaking the cup slightly at him, “Drink it before it gets cold.”

“Hot … Chocolate.”

One of Eliot’s eyebrows perks. “Yes,” He says, slow, “You have heard of it, haven’t you? Cocoa, milk, warmth. Mix it all together and you get hot chocolate.”

“Is it spiked?”

He huffs, leaning down to grab one of Quentin’s hands and place the mug in it. “No it’s not spiked. We’re not in high school Quentin. If I wanted to give you alcohol, I’d give you alcohol.” He mutters, flopping down on the couch next to him and extending his legs out to rest on the edge of the coffee table. He turns and watches Quentin expectantly. “Well? Are you going to drink it?”

Sighing, Quentin shifts on the couch. “Did you steal someones hot chocolate, Eliot?” He asks, frowning down at the cup, and the three large marshmallows floating atop the drink.

“No, I didn’t steal - who would steal hot chocolate?” He rolls his eyes, leaning his head on the back of the couch, “Just drink the damn hot chocolate, Quentin.”

Keep reading

Rashomon (NSFW)

Originally posted by twinklebrightly

Eliot Spencer x Reader, Parker x Reader, Alec Hardison x Reader

Warnings: Smut, flashbacks, theft

A/N: Just tagged a couple people who I thought might be interested in this. I don’t care how long ago this show aired, I will never not have Leverage feels especially as long as it’s on netflix.

“Hardison, you are not good with women. We have been over this. You’re lucky Parker even likes you.” Eliot grunted falling back on the couch.

Keep reading

My ‘The Magicians’ fic masterpost

So, I’m just gonna start adding all my Magicians fic here as a masterpost … it’s mostly Queliot, but there’s also stuff focusing on the Quentin x Eliot x Margo friendship dynamic, and idk what else I’ll end up writing at this point. 

Keep reading

(Headcanons: Hardison’s a trans man. Eliot’s genderqueer and uses they/them. Parker is agender and uses she/her, mostly because she always has and doesn’t care much).

It’s not a secret, but they don’t seem to know, so Alec doesn’t tell them.

Eliot Spencer, good ol’ country boy, and Parker, sometimes sweet, but always poking at things other people might know to leave alone. Sophie Devereaux who exploits any weakness because that’s her job, and Nate Ford, who might be a good guy but there’s a whole lot of ruthless under there, and, besides, good guy doesn’t mean tolerant.

No thank you. Alec’ll keep his business to himself.

His IDs are iron-clad anyways. No one ever has to know. No one but Nana, and if any fool thinks they can make Nana tell them shit, they’re in for a rude awakening. Nana’s proud of her trans kid, tells Alec she’s proud of his strength all the time. The old woman marches in Pride every year, marches for her trans son. But she wouldn’t give away shit about him to strangers.

He passes well, evidently. And he appreciates that, the kid inside him who got the shit beat out of him one too many times appreciates it. He won’t lie, not if they ask, but they’re not asking and Alec’s not telling.

It might change too many things.


Eliot didn’t have words for what they felt until they were already past thirty. The words they knew were all slurs, thrown around in their hometown, in the military, in the mercenary groups they used to work with.

Eliot would have tried to explain it in long tripping sentences, except they never would have tried to explain it, because there was no one to say that to. Gender is confusing. They’re not sure what masculinity is except they’re expected to perform it. Sometimes it feels okay. Sometimes it feels wrong. Sometimes, they like the girly things, the things they’re absolutely supposed to hate, because they feel like it fits better.

(It was also well after thirty before Eliot understood that they’re not the only person in the world to see nothing wrong with long, well-cared for hair, soft makeup, and bloody combat boots and knuckles).

Eliot doesn’t breathe a word to their new crew, even if they’re pretty sure they understand the words now. This is personal, and crews aren’t for personal things. No one is, really. But the crew expects them to perform, so Eliot ditches the makeup and puts on the role.

Besides, words or no words, it’s confusing and the explanation following those words is still long. They wouldn’t understand.


Parker doesn’t get why people care so much.

She used to watch families, whether she was living with them or not, and people really, really like rules. Parker likes rules too, but she likes rules that make sense, and rules that say you have to do this or that or be this or that based on how your body looks seem silly and unnecessary.

They show only two options, but Parker’s always liked option number three, always chosen it when at all possible, so she draws what feels right from both, makes some stuff up, and creates that option for herself.

So she’s Parker. Just Parker. People call her she or her, like she fits in one of those boxes, but Parker supposes they can’t call her by her name all the time and doesn’t know what else they would call her.

Parker wishes the team would get it, would stop expecting her to fit into one of those boxes, would understand, but then again, they’re regular people, and regular people never do.


“Eliot!” Hardison calls, chasing the hitter down, who’s storming determinedly away. “Eliot, I…thank you. For punching him. For sticking up for me.”

Eliot does stop and turn at that. There’s blood on their knuckles still, and it’s not their own. It’s the blood of the bigoted asshole of a mark. Eliot probably shouldn’t have punched him, but they did anyways.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Eliot growls. “What the hell does that mean, sticking up for you? Why would I do it for you?”

“So…you did it for me?” Parker asks. They both turn, like she surprised them again.

Eliot’s brow furrows. “I did it for me,” they say, like the words are dragged out of them. “I should be used to hearing his shit and putting up with that shit but I did it anyways. There.”

“For you?” Hardison asks.

“Yeah, Hardison, I did it for my queer ass, happy now?”

Hardison blinks, then laughs. This, of course, does not engender the best reaction in Eliot, and Hardison’s smart enough to know it’ll cause problems.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he hurries to assure. “I’m…laughing at myself. That I didn’t tell you for so long because I was worried you’d react badly.”

“Tell me what, Hardison?” Eliot growls, clearly still a little hurt.

“I’m trans,” Hardison blurts. “I…yeah. I’m a trans man.”

Eliot stares for a few seconds. “Oh,” they say. They hesitate a few seconds longer. “I, uh. Sometimes I feel like a woman. I’m both. Definitely not just a guy. The word. It’s, uh. Genderqueer.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Hardison says, sincere as always.

“I don’t like either,” Parker adds, and they both turn to her. “I’m just…neither. I don’t care. They don’t matter to me.”

“Well, fuck me,” Eliot mutters. “We’re fuckin’ idiots.”

“Looks like it,” Hardison agrees. “Now, we can have a long talk about pronouns and what idiots we are over dinner, if you want.”

“Are you askin’ me to cook?” Eliot asks.

“Naw, thought I’d hit up a KFC, see what they have–” Hardison begins.

Eliot storms towards the kitchen, throwing a “fuck you, Hardison,” over their shoulder.

Parker and Hardison grin at each other. “We can plan jobs together now,” Parker says. “To steal from jerks like today.”

Hardison wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Like the way you think.”

anonymous asked:

Leverage ot3

Eliot looked down at his plate, frowning as though deeply betrayed.

“What the hell is this supposed to be?” he asked.
“Breakfast, duh,” Parker said through a mouthful of what had once been pancakes, before she drowned them in jelly, butter, and hot fakey maple syrup.
“It’s a disgrace,” Eliot said, moving to stand.”

“Eliot, no. it is three am, please do not–it is too damn early–do not  harass another chef–” Hardison started.

“He’s not a chef if he calls this eggs benedict.” Eliot jabbed at his platter with a butterknife. “Look at that, there’s no color, there’s no paprika, and the english muffins are–”

“How about,” Hardison reached for the knife as a distraction, while parker actually snatched it away, “you let us eat our crappy diner food and we’ll go somewhere fancy for you later?  Dude, we just stole an entire summer camp for a week.”

“I think the kids liked you,” Parker nodded. “‘Uncle Eliot.’”

“Don’t call me that,” Eliot failed to hide the smile at the memory. “Fine. But fancy doesn’t mean good.”

“Hmm mmh. Whatever you say.”

Triple the Spencer

This is a Spencer x reader fic that is also a leverage/psych/criminal minds crossover that was requested by @janetthegiantt. It is a follow up fic to Double the Spencer. Please, enjoy :)

Double the Spencer that also includes Eliot from Leverage. Eliot is the prime suspect of a federal murder investigation.

Originally posted by christiankanedaily

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Derek Morgan.” Eliot Spencer smirked, freakishly nonchalant for a man being dragged into a police station in handcuffs and about to be charged with murder.

Derek smirked easily back, not thrown off in the least that a friend from his past was standing there, cuffed and in quite the predicament, “What trouble did you get yourself in this time?”

“I’m not completely sure,” Eliot responded, crossing his legs at the ankles as he shrugged, the literal picture of aplomb indifference sandwiched between a short filing cabinet and a small table housing a coffee maker, “I think these people think I’m a serial killer of some sort.”

Derek laughed, low and honest as he watched his coworkers glare at his easy interaction with the prime suspect, “Again?”

“You know me, always in the way.”

“So, how have you been, Eliot? Save any diplomats lately? Or…assassinate any of ‘em?”

“Well, actually, I’ve found myself a team. We do good now. It’s…different.”

“Really? Well, that’s definitely new. Who knew Eliot Spencer, government assassin, would ever be working as a white hat and with a team, of all things hmm?” Derek eyed him curiously for a moment, considering his old friend’s placement in the dingy police station. Had his friends gotten the wrong guy? “You want some coffee?” He asked, amicable and friendly in the strictest sense as he reached out automatically towards the coffee pot.

“As long as it tastes like swill.” Eliot grinned, reaching out for the coffee his old friend was offering him.

“Alright, that’s enough!” You barged in, guns blazing, “What the hell, Derek. Come on, we’ve gotta get him into interrogation, not give him tea and crumpets and make him all comfy!” He’s a murder suspect!“ You roughly grabbed at Eliot Spencer’s arm, yanking him out of the chair with all your might.

“It was nice seeing you, Spencer.” Derek waved as he snatched the coffee he had given to his log-haired comrade moments earlier and took a sip, “Good luck!”

You shoved the large man into the metal chair. And he really was large, all muscle and bone and not much in between. Shawn and Spencer followed in after you, attempting their best glares of professionalism, which was difficult considering Spencer was toppling over with a stack of files and Shawn was… well, Shawn was Shawn.

Almost immediately, you sat down across from the suspect, and without slipping eye contact, you blindly reached toward Spencer (your boyfriend Spencer, not the psychic) and received a file.

“Well, well, well, Mr. Spencer, it seems that you have built up quite the rap sheet. Wanted in more countries than I knew existed. Oh! And parts of your file have been redacted.” You made a face at him, as of mocking, “Let me guess. Government work? Yeah,” your grin was wicked and your words precise, but Eliot Spencer looked no less at ease.

When you paused, Eliot leaned forward, eyes glowering intentionally sweet, “Come on, beautiful. I did not kill anybody. I don’t do that anymore.”

“So, you’re telling me that somebody with a wrap sheet longer than almost every perp I’ve arrested combined, decided just to stop. No. Way. Didn’t happen. How stupid do you think I am?”

He was still smirking and you’d be lying if you said that easy southern charm wasn’t getting to you just a little bit, but you’re a trained FBI agent, debatedly one of the top interrogators, you had a long way you could go.

“Darlin’,” He said in the low, practiced southern drawl and you felt Spencer and Shawn twitch possessively behind you at the way he said your voice, you just rolled your eyes, “I would love to show you the things I do.”

“Did you just threaten me, Spencer?” You pressed your palms into the table, leaning forward and hoping that the towering had an effect on the suspect.

Eliot only grinned and leaned easily back in his chair, “That’s not the things I was talking about.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shawn interrupted before you could respond, but the words drifted emptily as he noticed, as if for the first time, Eliot’s impressive bulk, “I’ll yell at you very much.”

Shawn was never one for subtly or good timing, but that didn’t stop you from glaring furiously at him.

You were standing now, more worked up and peeved that you usually got, pacing dramatically.

Spencer began to wordlessly pull out files, laying the gruesome scenes before the suspect, searching for a response.

“23 murders, 7 different states, 11 different MOs, and we traced every single one of them back to you.” Spencer said calmly, each word measured precisely.

“Look, kid, it wasn’t me.” Eliot defended, a growl in his threat. He didn’t even twitch at the sight of the pictures, “C'mon, pretty lady, tell the kid it wasn’t me. I know you think I’m innocent.”

And, no, that was not a growl that escaped your lips, it couldn’t be.

“Mr. Spencer, I think tha-”


You were cut off. Derek ducked his head into the interrogation room and got two waiting expressions in return, “Come with me.”

Then everything stopped, an abrupt pause to your attempt at getting Eliot to confess to murder.

“Which one of us did he mean?” Spencer, your boyfriend said, and you honestly were not sure.

But at this point, you were angry and frustrated and really Morgan could have meant any of the three of them, but the one that was cuffed behind the table was laughing again, and that just couldn’t be. So, you got up, marched out of the room toward where Derek was waiting a couple yards away.

“THERE ARE THREE SPENCERS. BE MORE SPECIFIC.” And there was no denying that Eliot’s nonchalance had gotten to you now.

Morgan didn’t judge, just let you have your moment as he stifled a laugh, “I meant the FBI agent. Sorry.”

Thank You!” You muttered angrily under your breath as you walked away, slipping back into the interrogation room.

You pointed your thumb at your boyfriend ten toward the door, “Morgan wants you.” He nodded and slipped out of the room quietly.

Bloody, bloody images of victims, a content murder suspect, and a smirking psychic were all that were left, all watching you eagerly.

With one less Spencer in the room, things felt different. Let’s get this over with.

Summer Break(bills)

Welters Challenge Submission!! 

Words: 1665

Summary: Eliot convinces Margo to stay with him at Brakebills for the summer vacation between first and second year. Margo tries to control her feelings for him, but a sudden blackout offers her a chance to act on them.

NOTE: I don’t ship them, I just enjoy writing Margo suffering over Eliot. Plus, we all know that this probably happened.

“I have literally no desire to live. That’s how bored I am.” Margo exhaled dramatically. “I can’t believe I was persuaded to stay here with you all summer.” She glared at Eliot. “We could have done something fun, but nooo–”

“I just had to ruin everyone’s summer and insist that my best friend stay with me during the break.” Eliot smirked. “You’re welcome, by the way.” He took a drag on his cigarette so that grey swirls of smoke spilled from his lips with every word. He held his hand up and rubbed the tips of his index finger and thumb together. “Do you know what this is.” He never truly seemed to raise the pitch of his voice to signify a question.

Margo pressed her lips together to avoid laughing. “A tiny, tiny violin playing a sad song.” Despite her effort, a laugh bubbled up around her words anyway. “Just for me.”

Keep reading

A summary of the new episode

Julia cries a lot
Q is still a fanboy
Margo is the realest as always
Alice is the only one even attempting to satisfy my spell quota
Eliot needs a hug and gets one
Penny is just in a constant state of “what the actual hell”
Kady is still awol which I’m not down with

But overall I liked it a lot 10/10 would recommend


A short Drabble nobody asked for about Margo and Eliot realizing they’re all in on this friendship with Quentin.


“You need to tell me what the problem is,” Eliot murmurs, running a hand through Quentins hair.

They’re sitting on Quentins bed, Quentin curled up in Eliots lap, head on Eliots thigh while he shakes. He hasn’t spoken in hours.

“Q,” Eliot says, leaning down, ignoring the way his spine practically screams at the angle, “I don’t know how to do the comforting thing. I can’t say what you need to hear, because I don’t know what you need. Tell me what you need. Please.”

Quentin shakes his head, pulling his knees up tighter against himself.

Somebody knocks on the door and Eliot looks up just as Margo enters, closing the door behind her quietly. She looks down at Quentin, then up at Eliot. “No change?” She asks, soft, as she makes her way across the room and climbs on the bed to sit on the other side of them, so Quentin is between her and Eliot.

“He won’t talk, or move,” Eliot mutters, taking his hand through Quentins hair again. “I don’t know what to do. This isn’t my skill set. If he wanted to get drunk or high, this would be a piece of cake.”

Margo nods, reaching down and rubbing Quentins shoulder. “I don’t think he needs us to talk, El,” she whispers, looking down at him, “I don’t think anything we say will make it better.”

“Then what the fuck are we supposed to do?”

He’s desperate. He’s never seen Quentin like this, and a small part of him knows there’s nothing they can do because this is all part of Q’s depression and sometimes he just needs to let it all swallow him whole, but it’s hard watching him like this. It’s hard knowing he’s in there, but unreachable.

“Just sit. Wait it out?”

Her free hand comes and rests on his in Quentins hair.

They both look down at him, identical looks of concern on their faces as Quentin trembles on the bed.

“How do people do this, Bambi?” Eliot asks after a few long moments.

She looks up, furrowing her brow. “Do what?”

“Care.” He looks up at her, his vision going blurry as his sinus’ sting. “It’s so fucking counterintuitive.”

She smirks softly, “hell if I know,” she murmurs, looking down at Quentin again, twirling some of his hair between her fingers. “They just do. And now,” she shrugs, “I guess we do too.”

“He’s one of us.”

She nods. “He is.” She leans down, “You hear that? You’re one of us, Q. We’re never gonna let you go, now.” Quentin doesn’t respond, but one of his hands reaches out and grabs hers, squeezing tight.

compromised-by-castiel  asked:

Prompt idea: Leverage, alex/parker/elliot or team fic, somehow someone accidentally ends up having to look after a baby for a case (maybe they're infiltrating a shoddy day care? Maybe the mark needs a nanny, I don't know, I just want to see Elliot with a baby to be honest)

(It was a very Leverage promptfest!)

“Eliot,” Nate said, and Eliot crossed his arms, rocking lightly on his feet. It was a sign he was nervous, but also a sign that he knew he wasn’t in real trouble, because he only let his tells show around people he trusted. He lifted his chin, too, and Nate internally sighed.

“Where did the baby come from?” Sophie asked, probably more gently than Nate would have.

“Does it matter?” Eliot asked belligerently.

“Does it…OF COURSE IT MATTERS,” Hardison said, both hands on his forehead. To his credit, rather than yelling, he whisper-yelled it. The baby, swaddled in fleece and dozing in a carrier in the middle of the table, slept on.

“Why did you help him hide a baby?” Hardison added to Parker, who shrugged.

“It was fun,” she offered.

(There is a readmore below! Read more!)

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