So this has been the Summer of Quick, Distract Me While I Wait For Vampire Diaries to Come Back September 9. This week: Leverage!

I should have seen this shit coming, to be fair: I fell in love with White Collar, and White Collar is like this show’s dapper, fedora-wearing cousin.


I love Eliot, who always disarms guns and loved a girl once (but not more than his country), and who sometimes wanders into lesbian bars with disasterous results. I love Hardison, who named his new van Lucille 2.0 (because how do you improve on perfection?) and had a badass nana who would switch you as soon as look at you, and who hacked into the Bank of Iceland to pay her medical bills. I love Parker, who is terrified of horses and picks locks for fun, and who spends her weekends casing banks because -- well, what do you do on your weekends? I love Sophie, who sort of sounds like Jackie Prentiss when she doesn't bother to try and mask her real accent, and still has that tiara from when she was Princess Magda of Slovenia, and who met Nate eight years ago -- eight, not ten, because they first saw each other ten years ago, and that's a different measurement of time. I love Nate, who's really committed to the "functional" part of being a functioning alcoholic, who's a bigger sadistic bastard sober than he is drunk; who died the day his son did, except no one's bothered to tell him that yet. I even love Tara, who is basically a Replacement Sophie, and I haaaaaaaaaaaate Replacements, except Tara A) may or may not have been a CIA operative at one point B) made no secret of the fact she was doing this as a favor to Sophie, whom she owed, and C) busted out my second favorite character ever: Trish, who is drunk and lonely. On TEN SECONDS' NOTICE. That, my friends, is badass.

(Fact: my all-time, no-shit favorite is Jacques Bouvier, who--thanks to my friends--I now refer to as "Pimp Harry Potter". If I had wallpaper of that, it would be very hard for me to have a bad day again. It's Timothy Hutton dressed up as Karl Lagerfeld! That is like a LICENSE TO HAND OUT JOY.)

I love the crew! I love John Rogers and his drinking problem, and Dean Devlin, and Chris Downey, and Jonathan Frakes, and Amy Berg, and everyone. I love that most of them drink on the commentaries and tell really inappropriate stories about how Christian Kane busted his nose and the time Tim Hutton and one of the wardrobe ladies committed breaking and entering to get at wardrobe sketches when someone left them at home. (“Did you just admit to a felony on a commentary track?” “”)

I love that John Rogers loves Nate as much as I do – wait, no, more, which is kind of impressive. You guys, Nate is my FAVORITE. He is an alcoholic and sarcastic and vindictive and not a nice guy, and frankly, he’s much worse when he’s not drinking. He cherishes grudges the way most people cherish small animals. He spent two years thinking he was better than everyone else, only to be brought low by a gunshot wound on the deck of an oil tanker. The man will never not commit if it involves A) a dumb outfit, B) a dumb accent, C) a hat, or (preferably) D) all of the above. His idea of “mercy” is putting a hit out on his own father to chase him all the way to Ireland. He is AWESOME, and the fact that people don’t like him is understandable – he can be a teeny bit Emo King of Pain – but apparently a lot of people hate him? Which, to me, is like hating kittens or puppies. Or, like, Tom Hardy. And I love me some Tom Hardy, but if you give me a choice between him and Tim Hutton, not a choice, so much. Y’all can keep my share of the Hardy.

I am already having Nate/Sophie and Parker/Hardison thoughts. DON'T JUDGE ME. Also, seriously, don't encourage me, I have another Alaric/Damon sitting there, 3/4 finished and waiting for me to get off my ass and work on it, and I don't really need to be distracted by geeks in love or, God forbid, a really hot insurance investigator who loves his wife being emotionally and physically tempted by a smoking-hot English grifter.
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