Where are the fic where the super-slick super-spy is thwarted by their seduction target’s complete lack of self-esteem and inability to believe for one second that someone that hot wants to fuck them?
….
I don’t know if I need to read this or I need to write this, but I need this.This desperately needs to be a thing.
OOoh, how about the complete lack of self-esteem and disbelief is married with cynicism…that there’s no way that this person wants to fuck them, they must want something,
And that’s when the spy takes it as a personal challenge. He can hear the suppressed laugher in his handler’s voice. They’ve never failed like this.It is ON.I love this addition
This was longer than I meant it to be, but once I started writing I got caught up:
000
His suit was less expensive than he was used to – he was playing an attorney here, not a jet-setting billionaire or dashing playboy – but the game was the same as it always was. Approach the target, charm them into letting their guard down, then talk his way into their home to get access to, in this case, computer files. He didn’t even have to feel guilty about this one – either she was manipulating phone software for terrorists, in which case she deserved everything she got, or she was being used by someone who was manipulating phone software for terrorists. In which case, he was saving her.
She was just the type who could use a little saving, too. Eating lunch in a mall food court, hunched over a tablet while she ate sesame chicken one-handed without looking. Hair pulled back in the most practical hairstyle possible, he was sure their interaction would be the most exciting part of her week.
Shifting his grip on his briefcase, he sauntered over to her table. “Pardon me for being rude, but I saw you sitting over here and I—“
“No.”
He blinked. “What?”
OMG EVERYONE READ THIS!!!!
thank you so much this is awesome!
I hope you continue it but even if you don’t it’s still more than I was expecting and it’s awesome and you should be very proud!
You’re very welcome. Have some more;
After a few seconds, he realized the muffled noise he could hear over his comm sounded suspiciously like laughter. “Shut up,” he muttered, voice low enough that casual passers-by wouldn’t be able to overhear.
Naturally, D did exactly the opposite and stopped muffling the laughter entirely, letting it boom over the comm loud enough to make him wince. “You know I’m saving the audio forever, right?” D managed, laughing so hard she was wheezing. “I’m going to insist we start an agency Christmas party, just so I can play it for everyone and we can all laugh at you together.”
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
First I want to say that I’m not trying to talk over nor silence anyone who has issues with Hunk’s enjoyment of food in Voltron. Your feelings are always valid. However, I do want to offer another perspective on the matter that I don’t think many of you have the experience of understanding through living.
Because I don’t think many of you are or know trained chefs.
We have been shown in both seasons that, besides being an incredibly gifted engineer, Hunk is also an accomplished cook, if not a trained chef (I lean toward the later with him, because he resonates SO much with me on the topic of food - yes there IS a distinct difference between the way a Foodie and a Culinarian talk about and interact with food!)
The thing about chefs is… we talk about food, we think about food, we make food analogies, we explain things using food as an example, we compare other things to food. I’m currently the sales manager and accountant (among other things) for my family’s seamster business. I compare literally every aspect of our business to food and restaurant management, to the point where I think I’m driving my partners insane sometimes.
Pricing our products? Gotta balance that menu! That scarf that has very low material cost and sells like crazy is like our chicken dish, so we can keep the cost of our high-end “salmon and lamb” plushes competitive! Extremely complex custom orders? Those are our wedding cakes and big catering jobs!
Want to win my heart? Cook me a nice meal. Want to give me the best gift ever? Take me to that fancy restaurant I’ve been eyeing. Want to make me feel creative and blessed? Get me an ingredient that I haven’t cooked with before or don’t get to cook with often. Mom gifted me a gram of saffron one Christmas and I nearly burst into tears I was so touched.
When I first watched the scene in S2 where they’re all standing around thinking about Zarkon and Hunk says he was thinking about calzones I nearly lost my shit because that was me right there on the screen. My husband and fiancee both groaned fondly and face palmed because yes, they know, I’m always thinking about food!
I have other skills. I primarily consider myself a writer, as Hunk would primarily be considered an engineer, and writing does have influence over my life and my conversations, just has Hunk did demonstrate his engineering skills in S2. But there is something about also being a chef that keeps food coming up in conversation.
Yes, Hunk is a big guy (just a side note, the reason he’s the strongest member of the team is because he has the caloric reserves to burn that Shiro doesn’t), a lot of chefs are also big guys (and gals, and enbies!). Loving food and being large is perfectly wonderful and beautiful. Being a chef and constantly talking about food is modus operandi and I was truly delighted to see his character unfold in a way that resonated with me so very much.
To quote Eliot Spencer: “Food is Life.”
Okay, everyone needs to stop and read this
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
I’ve seen people calling the Muslim/Refugee Ban a “distraction” from Bannon being put on the National Security Council, and y’all, I want you to listen:
They’re not trying to distract us. They legitimately do not give a shit and are going to do whatever they want until someone stops them. It is not a “distraction” to upend the lives of thousands of people, and affect millions more. They’re not aiming for distraction, they’re aiming for fatigue.
RING A DING DING. Everything they’re doing rn is exactly what they intended to do. The only sinister strategy that’s not in bold faced type is that they are trying to shock and awe us all into exhaustion so we stop fighting back. Take care of yourself in your off time so we can all endure this because they have no intention of stopping or slowing down.
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
There are good reasons to not want to personally punch a Nazi in the face but let’s be clear, none of them are because a Nazi doesn’t deserve it.
I remain staunchly pro-choice on Nazi punching.
“Should I, personally, punch a Nazi right now?” That’s up to you, whether or not you feel safe in doing so, your own personal beliefs on violent vs non-violent protest, etc.
“Should people, in general, punch Nazis?” Yes.
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
Anonymous asked: Grantaire and Cyrano de Bergerac
listen i had to google this but now but that’s perfect
and sAD grantaire helping enjolras fall in love with someone else oh nO
grantaire not telling enjolras so he doesn’t lose the image of his eloquent lover
grantaire being selfless for enjolras oH NO
Real™ fic writing #goals:
- being that writer ppl longingly think about all like “if only this writer wrote for my ship”
- being that writer ppl have a love/hate relationship with bc “i loath that ship with every fiber of my being but this writer’s works about it are absolute masterpieces”
- being that writer ppl read one work for and then read the rest with conSUMING NEED IN ONE NIGHT
- being that writer ppl write meta/rec posts discussing their fic
being the author of the fic everyone recommends to their friends to get their friends to ship the ship.
(via mediavengers)
Could I kindly ask that people posting things about the current US political situation do one thing?
include the date in your original post. once they get popular and circulated, it would be EXTREMELY convenient to know at a glance. “Is this still something I can call/sign/write about, or has it probably already hit a conclusion?”
(via the-hogfather)
Muslims are and will always be welcome to the true American. That we even need to fight for this says a lot about the state of our country.
“Give me your poor, your tired, your huddled masses yearning to breath free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
There’s no asterisks in that inscription.
(via caniplaywithyourorgans)
[video]
“
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
” — Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via oliviacirce)(via notahotlibrarian)