and the james bond bit

i’m….bond was gone…and q just kept rebuilding the aston martin for him…even though he had no reason to…and then when bond came back he just fuckin…gave it to him and let him go…with this sad little resigned smile…binch…he’s in love…

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Two blushing maidens

Culture Shock: An Introduction To James Bond

James Bond is a pop culture juggernaut, but even obsessive fans have trouble keeping track of the secret agent’s complicated history of over dozens of films. Here’s what you need to know about the iconic man of mystery.

James Bond makes men sit down by using a gun: Everyone knows that the superspy travels around the world to make men sit down, but how does he make them sit down? James Bond’s secret weapon is the gun, a kind of gentleman’s sword. He often uses his gun after uttering the classic catchphrase, “Please seat yourself anywhere.”

All the incarnations of James Bond are brothers and live together in a studio apartment: Here’s one of the more obscure bits of Bond mythology. All the James Bonds—from the Sean Connery James Bond to the Daniel Craig James Bond—are brothers who were given the same first name by their parents. To save money after moving to London and joining MI6, they rented a studio apartment where they all sleep together in a single king-sized bed, except for the Roger Moore James Bond, who sleeps on the floor in a sleeping bag because there isn’t room for him.

Bond’s code number 007 is a reference to 7: Author Ian Fleming didn’t pick 007 at random. Most viewers don’t realize that it’s intended as a clever nod to the number 7.

James Bond doesn’t understand that humanity is weak and corrupt and that the Earth must be purged so a better world can be built on society’s ashes: The fool, Bond can’t see that, like a forest fire allowing fresh saplings to grow, civilization must be swept away to make room for a utopia. Disgusting sheep, that’s what most people are, living their tedious lives, mindlessly destroying their environment in pursuit of the almighty dollar. It would be a favor to burn them all away, like the ants they are, and allow a select group of genetically superior humans to repopulate the planet, but Bond doesn’t have the vision to embrace what needs to be done.

Jason Bourne is pretty much the same thing: One of the best thing about James Bond is that he’s basically Jason Bourne. You can nitpick ways that they’re slightly different, but they’re essentially identical. James Bond being more or less Jason Bourne is what theatergoers have loved about Bond for over 50 years!

Ode To The Broken (00q)

It was dark when James peeled his eyelids open, woken up by something his sleepy brain couldn’t point out yet but that soon would make its way to the forefront of his mind; in the meanwhile, his eyes looked for the alarm clock on the bedside table and its neon green numbers changing every sixty seconds: it was 4:17 in the morning and James felt like he’d been ran over by a car and then put in a blender, before he’d poured himself on the mattress.

Though, he remembered nothing of the sort happening; for their standards, James and Q had had a relatively boring and comfortingly domestic night in, eating chips in front of the tv and cuddling with the cats.

Q.

Where was Q?

James forced his body to sit up on the mattress, letting the warm blankets pool in soft waves of fabric around his waist: there was no Q to be found in the bedroom, which wasn’t exactly unusual since the younger man suffered from a serious case of insomnia but whatever had woken up James, his senses felt all in overdrive and a loathsome panicky feeling seized his chest; breathing became difficult, coming into short inhales and quick exhales that made him feel slightly light-headed.


Almost afraid of passing out, James climbed out of the bed and with shaky legs he gained the hallway; suddenly the noise of blood rushing in his temples disappeared and he could distinctively hear the sound of water running in the bathroom - and James was able to breathe correctly again, perfectly aware of what was going on.

James knocked at the bathroom door, not really expecting an answer but he guessed that it would be better to avoid scaring Q into an heart attack - God knew that with the amounts of stress and caffeine on which the younger man practically lived would have made that possibility pretty strong, despite the fact that he was just in his late twenties.

“Enter” Q’s voice bid from inside the room.

“Not you” James murmured fondly at the cat - Pampuria, it was impossible to mistake her white floof for Turing’s darker colouring under the moonlight - that had just brushed against his calves.

“Let her in” Q called out “She’s been scratching at the door for a while”

James snorted when Pampuria looked up at him, a smug mewl putting on display that sharp little teeth that had bitten him so often “Spoiled brat” he said as he pushed the door open, shaking his head when the cat entered the bathroom first, swishing her floofy tail around.

“Don’t talk like that about my Princess” Q said with a smile, letting a wet hand dangle out of the bath, so that the cat could sniff at his fingers and rub against them “Did I wake you up?”

James sat down on the edge of the tub, arms instinctively wrapping around Pampuria when she jumped in his lap - just to be closer to her owner but still comfortably far from water, obviously “No” he reassured “Did you have a nightmare?”

“That would imply that I ever managed to fall asleep” Q pointed out with a grin, fingers nervously playing with the bubbles hiding his submerged body “I just keep thinking about it, you know?” He sighed out in the end, looking up at his lover with tired green eyes.

James carefully freed an hand from Pampuria’s floof, making sure that the cat understood not to make any idiotic movements unless she desired to take a bath, and carded his fingers through Q’s damp curls “Hard choices are part of the job” he pointed out gently, digits massaging the younger man’s sensitive scalp.

Normally, Q would have closed his eyes in bliss at the skilfull massage but instead he let his eyelids slid down to hide his irises as distress filled them. A tear slid down his stubbled cheek and Q angrily wiped it away, feeling so weak in front of James; his lover had literally gone to hell multiple times and had managed to make the trip back alive to tell tales about it “It could have been you” Q couldn’t help whispering, his voice breaking on the last word.

“It already has been me” James murmured “And it could happen again, yes”

Q snorted - a noise that became a sob halfway out of his throat - even as another tear fell down his face “Have I already told you just how shitty you are at comforting people?” He asked, a bitter smile blossoming on his lips.

Even if he hadn’t been Quartermaster back then, Q remembered when it had been James’ turn to be sacrificed in a last desperate attempt to win a battle in the never ending war against terrorism: the halls had been filled by a cacophony of disbelieving murmurs, the news of 007’s death travelling on everyone’s mouths just like it had done so many times before that - the only difference being that they were carrying the downfall of a hero, instead of its conquests and shenanigans.

Only, then M had been able to share part of the guilt with Eve who had understandably missed an extremely difficult shot - hell, an impossible one.

Now, Q only had himself to blame for issuing the command that had led 002 to her death and nobody was blaming him; the higher ups had even congratulated him upon making such a difficult decision, displaying a cold-blooded and clear mind in the moment of need. Nobody cared that 002 had died: she’d been just another sacrificeable piece on the board, a pawn that with its death would open up a safer path to the Queen.

“She knew what she was risking, Q”

Q looked up at James, an eyebrow arched up in silent inquiry.

James smiled down tenderly at those big and tired eyes, just pleading him for the right words to make the guilt a little more bearable “You know that is Double-Ohs are not the most obedient of the lot” he started.

“You can say that, yeah” Q interrupted, his smile loosing a bit of the bitter edge as the corners turned up a little more and made the faint suggestion of dimples appear at the corners of h6os mouth.

“Stop interrupting me” James reprimanded fondly, tapping Q’s nose; as any other time he had poked at the younger man, Pampuria warningly dug her claws in his thigh “As I was saying, you know we almost never follow orders - 002 could have easily told you to fuck off and kiss her arse like she already did numerous times. But she didn’t because she evidently thought too that the move you suggested was the only possible one to avoid wasting all the months of work leading up to that op”

Q sighed and closed his eyes again, this time pushing his head in James’ fingers to ask for more pets. It all made sense - it was the truth: 002 had known that Q was at the end of his rope, that the only thing he could have suggested from behind his computer was to take the leap - and she had because, despite being on the field, she hadn’t seen a better option either “She was my friend”

“I know. But as your friend, would she want to see you like this?” James asked, knowing that Q wouldn’t stop feeling sad just because he knew that 002 would bite his head off, if she knew that Q was crying over her dead body like that; she’d been a peculiar character with quite a mouth on her - and no, James didn’t mean it in a complimentary way - and a peaceful attitude towards death that not many agents really managed to reach.

Q shook his head.

(“Grow a pair, Q” 002 snarls over the comms, gritting her teeth as she scales the wall just using her pigheadedness and a huge amount of luck.

Q rolls his eyes: she could have easily used the elevator - after all, he could control it easily “Of what? Boobs?”

“Someone has been reading naughty Star Trek fanfictions again” 002 sings in a teasing voice “Or maybe Bond is just /that/ kinky?”

Q rolls his eyes again - he does that a lot when he’s monitoring 002 “You’re perverted. If you bring back that throwing knife I spent a whole day balancing to perfection - and that you’re using to scale a wall when you could have taken the lift - I’m giving you a bottle of Macallan as a prize”

002 snorts but Q knows her and waits, eyes following her ascension as he virtually covered her shoulders, making sure that nobody started shooting at her.

“How old?”

Q grins when the question finally comes “25 years old, Sherry Oak range” he answers and when 002 whistles, he knows that he’s going to see his equipment again this time. )

“She’d tell me to stop whining” Q answered, sighing as he shook his mind free of the memory; he knew that one day he’d feel only fondness when remembering the agent but, for now, it still hurt too much.

“Exactly” James gently put Pampuria on the floor and stood up, ignoring her irritated mewl to grab a large towel from the warming rack “Come out now, you’re getting all pruny” he encouraged.

Nobody needed to know that James squeezed Q a little harder than usual when he had him snuggled up against his chest, trembling in his cocoon like a leaf in the wind.

Light

Summary: Q and Bond escape a Spectre facility. 


“You’re fucking heavy,” Q said, or possibly yelled, stumbling down the corridor towards a side exit of the compound. His ears were still ringing and sound was muffled, the natural consequence of Bond firing a gun less than a meter away from his head.

“Stop wasting your breath on whinging!” Bond shouted in his good ear, his thighs tightening around Q’s waist before he fired twice more, once in front and once behind, hitting one of the Spectre mercenaries who had captured them each time.

Actually, Bond was hideously light, all things considered, which was the only reason Q could carry him. They had broken some of the bones in Bond’s feet during the routine beatings, and starved him, while Q in the next cell over had been left relatively intact, punished only when he tried to sneak his rations through the little viewing window into Bond’s cell, or when he mouthed off particularly insolently.

He’d made Bond laugh with one particularly apt insult; it had been worth the little patch of skinned flesh over his ribs, probably. And it had made their captors frustrated, and made them underestimate him. That, in turn, had made them…careless.

He had learned how to take advantage of carelessness. In part because Bond had taught him to, tapping Morse code through their shared wall at night, telling him to do some bloody push-ups so he’d have the strength to strike when he got the chance. 

(M would be proud, he’d thought, staring down at the body of the guard he’d managed to buddy up to.)

He’d got lucky–his opportunity to escape had come at night, when the fewest guards were on duty. Once he’d stolen the dead guard’s uniform and pass, he’d finagled his way into Spectre’s security system, sent out a distress signal, and locked the majority of the compound’s staff into the dormitory where they were sleeping. Afterward, he’d let himself into the armory and spent a heart-pounding few minutes avoiding the other guards and placing depth charges around the facility before coming back to tell Bond to climb on; he was getting them out of here.

Q’s body trembled with exhaustion with every step he took, but every step was one closer to the door of the prison they’d been held in, taken captive in an effort to cripple England’s espionage in the same way he and Bond had been crippling Spectre’s criminal organization, whole limbs of the great tentacled beast hacked and clawed away now.  

“Two minutes!” Bond shouted, and threw his empty pistol; it hit the last guard in front of them in the throat, and he fell and didn’t get back up.  

The way was clear.

“Right,” Q said. He picked up the guard’s pistol on the way out and passed it to Bond, and then he was jogging, not even enough breath for a mumbled “fuck-fuck-fuck” as he burst through the door and raced for the compound wall.

His mind blanked, his lungs heaved, and his stride lengthened; Bond suddenly seemed light as a feather.

“Go, go, go, you fucking—”

He went. Across the yard, out the gate, and–

The compound wall was cool at their backs when the heat of the explosions rocked through the air.   

In his peripheral vision, Bond gave him a tired thumbs up.

“Oh, bugger off,” Q panted.

There were helicopters in the distance; hopefully MI6 responding to his signals. He collapsed to his hands and knees so Bond could drop off of him, and they sat and waited for their rescue.


Note: a sprint from a while back with snowyleopardess! Trying to get a little bit of action-writing XP ^ ^

actualbush  asked:

can we pleeeaaassseee get some more mission action of these two? i really liked the ending of the last one

ok, i have a few unfinished spy comics so i’ll just post one of those

the time period is like between the creation of the entente cordiale and the beginning of the first world war. they’re in a plane getting ready to jump out and land at a private party hosted by austria/hungary and spy on them and maybe the black hand idk.

-later as they walk into the party-

and yeah that’s all i got lol

Poldark returns: Aidan Turner on nudity, being single and why he's a technophobe

As the famously ripped and glowering Cornish copper miner, Aidan Turner has put the sex back  into Sunday nights. Over a large vodka, he talks about getting  naked, those pecs and playing Poldark
Just before I am due to interview Aidan Turner, his PR sends me an email to let me know that he has grown a beard – presumably in case I fail to recognise the actor fully clothed or not wearing a tricorn hat.
Poor old Turner is so defined by that scything scene that he likes to grow his beard when not committed to playing Ross Poldark – which doesn’t happen very often, given the BBC has just commissioned a fourth series and Turner says they are all tied in for five.
‘I’m not a big fan of shaving,’ he explains to me when I finally find him – fully clothed in a bomber jacket, T-shirt and jeans, minus tricorn, hiding in the corner of a dimly lit hotel bar in Mayfair. ‘It sucks. What’s the point? What is the point?’ I mention something about it being uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of a man with a beard.

Keep reading

Two: on an impulse Q calls James up after meeting the new 007. Realizing he doesn’t really know what to say Q asks how Madeleine is but James knows that isn’t why Q called. - waywardconsultingtimelady

-

Hope you enjoy, my love! Jen.

-

The phone rang once, twice.

Q was more than aware that he was more than a little bit drunk, but James Bond would have to put up with it because Q hadn’t heard his voice in weeks, and now there was somebody new he was supposed to call 007 and it made his heart hurt in a way he had no words to cover.

“… hello?”

Bond’s voice was hilariously, insultingly welcome.

“Hello Bond,” Q said, with remarkable poise.

Then, he realised he had nothing to say. Nothing that he could say, rather.

“Q?”

“The very same,” Q replied, and good lord whiskey had a lot to answer for, he almost sounded in control, “and I suppose I just wanted to say… hello. How is Madeleine?”

Q was very, very pleased with himself: despite wanting to murder her - very slowly - he had done the decent thing and asked politely.

“You don’t care about Madeleine,” Bond replied, correctly. “Are you alright?”

There were very few useful things to say.

“… yes,” Q replied, but it was quite obviously too late. “Fine. I just…. wanted to see how you’re doing. After all, you dropped quite neatly off radar…”

“… which is what happens, when you retire,” Bond replied, but it was a tease rather than the sharp, unpleasant sound Q had expected. “I’m actually… quite glad you called.”

Q’s heart leapt directly into his throat, and tried to choke him. “… oh?” he managed.

“I’m coming back.”

It didn’t make sense, for a long moment. “Sorry, you’re coming back where?”

“MI6.”

Q briefly wondered whether he’d drunk enough to be hallucinating, and decided he probably hadn’t. “You’re returning to MI6?” he clarified, hoping his voice didn’t sound too slurred. “Seriously?!”

“Well,” Bond smiled, and Q could swear the voice was warming him, thawing the ice that had crept into him ever since seeing Bond on the bridge and watched him walk away. “I didn’t really get a chance to say goodbye.”

Q was very, very quiet.

Bond didn’t break it.

Q eventually decided to ask: “And Madeleine?”

“Is no longer my concern,” Bond replied, with gentle diplomacy that Q didn’t decide to query. “Do you mind?”

Q snorted with laughter. “You kidding? I can’t wait.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

(Q was never going to touch whiskey again. Ever.)

Bond replied with a small chuckle, gentle. Forgiving. “Well then, Q,” Bond told him, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Monday?”

“It’s nice to know you’ve missed me,” Bond told him, with an odd edge to his tone that Q couldn’t analyse for fear of getting it right.

Bond hung up.

Q promptly forgot how to breathe.

Partners In Crime (Teen Sam Drake x Reader)

Requested by @unchartedtrash

Pairing: Sam Drake x Reader

Fandom: Uncharted

Request: “I hope you don’t mind prompts. “There’s nothing going on!” with Teen!Sam. -UnchartedTrash (Please tag me!)”

Prompt: “There’s nothing going on!”

Word Count: 3,428

Key: [Y/NN]: Your Nickname

A/N: Hey everyone! This took a bit longer than expected! It was originally supposed to be way shorter than this and I feel like this is too long but whatever haha. Hope you enjoy!


 From the moment you had laid eyes on Sam Morgan you knew he was different. You had spotted him while casually strolling through the flea market, a place your parents had forbidden you to visit because of the rather… extreme personalities that sold trinkets there. They would never say it out loud to you, but it was also because they thought they were too good for this place. All they ever shopped at were higher-end stores.

  Of course, as teenagers will do, you broke that rule. It wasn’t just because you wanted to be rebellious though, you’ve always been drawn to the sorts of things that were sold here. You had actually made a hobby of fixing the broken jewelry and then pawning it off to people. The intricate, detailed, but yet slightly damaged objects captivated you. 

 Maybe that’s why Sam had drawn you in as well. He gave off the broken soul aura as soon as you two had made eye contact with each other across the market. There was something about the way he looked at you, his eyes gleaming with a sort of wistfulness you’ve never seen in a teenager. Perhaps just like the jewelry, you could fix him as well.

 You watched him as he ducked into a tent, and for some reason, you had to find an excuse to start talking to him. It was like a magnet being drawn to its polar opposite, not being able to stop until you were close enough to him.

 Deliberately walking slow to the tent he had entered a few minutes earlier, you pulled the curtains gently to the side and peered in. This booth looked unfamiliar to you, which was surprising since you were usually a regular at the flea market and could map this whole place out in your head. Space was minimal compared to the other booths but this one had much more stuff in it, which made you feel slightly overwhelmed looking at all the items.

 You saw him towards the far left, in the jewelry section of the tent. He seemed to be thumbing a quite stunning gold necklace, the chain slightly glinting in the overhead light. It looked like some sort of medallion, with tiny, delicate gemstones encrusted in it. 

 If he weren’t the main goal at the moment, I would most likely be naming prices for it with the merchant right now.

 As soon as this thought had passed through your mind, you had an idea. A not so subtle idea, but it was better than nothing at all.

 Swallowing the lump of fear in your throat, you abruptly began to walk towards him before you could change your mind and back down completely with this plan. As you had reached your destination after weaving through the hordes of customers down the aisle, you contemplated whether or not to do this. You’ve never been the type to quite literally throw yourself out there like some of your friends do, but at this point in time, that would change.

 Without giving another thought about this whole plan, you roughly bumped into his back, making sure to elbow him hard enough to jostle the necklace from his hands. This indeed worked as you watched the chain slip through his fingers and fall to the ground with a loud clatter, some of the gemstones falling out-of-place. 

 His shoulders raised and fell as you heard an annoyed sigh escape his lips. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. This may just make him pissed at you. “Hey, why don’t you watch where you’re going nex-” His sentence was brought up short as he turned around to face you, his eyes widened with curiosity as he looked you up and down. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

 “Sorry about that, it gets a little crowded in here,” You smiled sweetly at him, gesturing to the crowds of people walking around the two of you. “But I’ll most definitely be paying for that. I was the one who was clumsy enough to bump into you.”

 Bending down to ground level and scooping up the broken necklace, you walked over to the vendor, explaining the situation and handing him a generous amount of cash. He thanked you for your business and you exited the tent, taking notice of the fact the boy was now trailing you. You let a smug smile spread across your lips as you realized your plan had actually worked.

 “Wait!” He shouted behind you, as you felt a hand grasp your shoulder and gently turn you around. “Seeing that whole chunk of cash you just gave that dude back there, I don’t exactly see you as the type to be walking around a flea market buying broken junk.” He pointed to the damaged necklace you had just purchased with a smug smirk.

 “I fix these things you so-call, junk and sell them if you must know.” You replied coolly, crossing your arms and jutting out your hip with attitude. “Are you always this quick to judge girls?” The initial curiosity you first felt about this boy started wearing off, and now you were slightly offended he was being so quick to assume things.

 He obviously caught on that you felt insulted, and his eyes softened, the mischievous glint in them almost completely diminished. Almost. “Right, I’m sorry, how about we start this introduction over?” He said as he stuck out his hand. “I’m Sam. Sam Morgan.”

 “[Y/N]. [Y/N] [Y/L/N].” You told him, shaking his hand and giggling slightly over the cheesiness of all of this. The both of you sounded like James Bond. He chuckled a bit as well, a sound that made your heart flip, and you made the mistake of looking at his smile. Dimples formed at the corners of his mouth, and you could feel yourself staring much too long at his lips, but you couldn’t help yourself.

 When you finally snapped out of it, you were relieved to see he was too deep in thought to notice your staring problem. His eyes looked distant as if he wasn’t even here with you at the moment. Suddenly, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together in a devious manner, a sly smirk spreading across his lips. The jaunty glint in his eyes returned, and you couldn’t help it as your heart started pounding slightly in your chest. There was definitely something about Sam that drew you in, and you had a feeling that once you got caught in his web, you wouldn’t be able to untangle yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t want to untangle yourself after getting a taste of him. 

 “How well do you think we’d work as a team, [Y/N]?”

 After that, the rest was history.

 For a few months now, you and Sam have paired up as partners in crime, stealing damaged artifacts from museums and restoring them, then pawning them off to rather sketchy people. It was quite the deal, and both of you made a pretty fair share of money from it, not like you needed it for anything. Whenever you found the chance, you would always slip your earnings into Sam’s pockets, although you had the feeling he knew exactly what you were doing. 

 The only downfall to this whole partnership between the two of you was that you weren’t the one doing the risky business; Sam was. You guys have had a few particularly nasty fights with each other because he refused to let you tag along. You remembered how loud he had yelled at you, saying he couldn’t afford to let your life be as worthless as his was. It broke your heart that Sam truly believed he had no potential. He is the most driven and dedicated person you’ve ever met, which truly amazed you. Somehow, and some way you were determined to show Sam just how much potential he really did have.


 “So who is this Henry McAvery guy anyways?” You asked Sam, the two of you walking next to each other while his younger brother, Nate, trailed behind. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam look over his shoulder at his younger brother, and it wasn’t long before you heard the two of them burst out laughing. Quite confused and clueless, you looked back and forth between the both of them, and sighed while saying, “What’s so funny?”

 Sam gave you his infamous crooked grin that caused butterflies to take over your stomach as he explained the humor in what you had just said. “It’s Henry Avery, [Y/NN].”

 When Sam told you that Nathan had been kicked out of yet another orphanage for bad behavior and needed to wait a couple of days minimum before getting relocated to another one, you welcomed both of them into your home right away. You’ve seen Sam’s studio apartment, and you couldn’t imagine both of those boys living in such a small space for an indefinite amount of time. 

 Plus, you actually liked having the extra company since your family was out-of-town. The thought of being home alone at night terrified you, so you don’t know what you would’ve done if Sam had declined your offer.

 Grabbing your house key from your back pocket, and unlocking the door with a click, you stepped into your house. As you began sliding your shoes off, you heard a gasp of excitement coming from Nate. “You live…” he paused for a second, looking around your house with wide eyes, “…here?”

 Giggling from his amazed reaction, you nodded your head. “Yep. Go ahead and make yourself at home. There are some popcorn bags in the pantry over there.” You pointed him in the direction of the kitchen. He was just about to scamper off, but Sam stopped him momentarily.

 “[Y/N] and I are going to head upstairs to work on something, you think you’ll be okay?” Nathan gave him a nod as Sam playfully ruffled his hair. “Oh and try not to set the house on fire, okay?” He said while the two of them exchanged devious looking grins before Nate ran off.

 Sam followed your lead as you walked up the stairs and into your room. You approached your closet and started shuffling some things aside, trying to find the box you keep all the artifacts in. You spotted it all the way on the top shelf, stepping up on your toes to at least and try to make an effort to reach it, but it was no use. You gave it one more try, this time around jumping up as far as you could, which just resulted in hearing Sam’s snickering behind you. “Are you just going to sit there and laugh at me?” You huffily said, annoyed he hasn’t offered to help you. 

 Sam raised his hands in surrender as sat up from your bed and walked across the room towards you. Giving you a smug little smirk, he looked at you and teasingly said, “Whatever you want, Princess.”

 Although Sam was just kidding around, your breath slightly hitched at the pet name he had just called you. It seemed like he heard that as you watched his smirk grow.

 Him and his smug little smirk I just want to kiss it of-

 “Here we go.” Sam plopped the box down on your desk, and you were actually quite thankful he had cut off your previous thought before it got too out of line.

 You carefully took out the most recent artifact Sam had nabbed, which quite ironically, was a golden medallion that looked like the one you purchased at the flea market where you first met him. The thought of that day brought memories back that made your heart flutter with joy.

 Before you had met Sam, you felt like your life was incomplete, each day fading into the next, with no meaning to them at all. It was the same routine every day and it was almost like you knew something was missing. Then Sam Morgan came barreling into your life, and it’s never been the same before, but in a good way. 

 The medallion wasn’t too damaged compared to some other pieces Sam had retrieved in the past, so it had only taken you several minutes before it looked good as new. Grabbing a rag off to the side of your desk, just to clean it a bit and make it look shiny, you turned your head to the side to look at Sam. 

 It felt like your heart had stopped dead in its tracks when you found that he was already looking at you, a smile slightly tugging at his lips. “What?” You asked, eyebrows beginning to furrow in confusion. “Is there something on my face?”

 Sam cleared his throat as his eyes darted away from yours, fumbling with his fingers as he mumbled. “No. Nevermind, it’s nothing.” You could tell he was nervous right off the bat as you watched his hands begin to shake. The cocky, teasing side to him quickly diminished in a matter of seconds, leaving you wondering why. 

 “Sam…” You trailed off, placing your hands on his to stop the trembling. “You can tell me anything.” 

 His head was turned so you couldn’t see his face, but he acknowledged you by giving your hand a squeeze. You knew he wasn’t facing you on purpose because truth be told… you could read him like an open book. Sam had mastered a pretty solid poker face, but his weakness was his eyes. They told you everything. 

 “C’mon Sam, you’re my best friend,” you tried again, hoping to coax him into confessing what was wrong.

 What you had just said sparked something in him, as he turned around and gave you a quite intense look, his eyes searching yours for what seemed like an eternity. This was the most scared you’ve ever seen him. His eyebrows knitted together as he let out a shaky sigh when he finally spoke. “That’s the problem, [Y/N].”

 Puzzled, you began opening your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it, bringing his index finger to his lips. You obeyed his command, but never more in your life have you wanted to say something to someone as much as you did now. Sam was scaring you. 

 The empty silence as you waited for him to explain was excruciating. You just wanted to jump up at of your seat and yell at him, tell him to spit it out. But you didn’t. You just continued rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand to try to put him at ease. 

 “You remember the first time we met [Y/NN]?” Sam finally spoke up, but he didn’t wait for you to answer the question as he carried forward, “I do.” 

 His eyes seemed far away, and you could only assume that he was replaying the first encounter between the two of you in his head. You yourself thought back at that memory as well, closing your eyes and smiling, remembering how bad you had wanted to talk to Sam.

 “This artifact reminded me of that pretty medallion necklace you bought,” Sam said, reaching across your desk to grab it. Still silent, you watched as he sat there for a moment, just looking at the piece. “To be quite honest, I was going to go off on you for running into me, but when I turned around and saw you…” A deep, crimson tint started blooming on his cheeks, and you couldn’t believe your sight. Sam Morgan was blushing.

 His hazel eyes strayed away from the artifact to meet yours as he continued, “Let me just tell you, I couldn’t be happier that you bumped into me that day. I don’t mean to sound like a total sap, but you’ve forever changed my life in the best way possible. You’ve made me feel like I actually matter.” He spoke in a quiet voice, but you heard every word. And each and every one of those words made you feel light-headed from the realness of this. Was Sam confessing his feelings towards you?

 Sam’s hand cautiously reached out towards your face, intently watching you as he touched a loose strand of your hair. He twisted it around, playing with it for a moment before tucking it behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat as he murmured, “And that’s the problem, [Y/N]. All you see between us is just a friendship.”

 It completely shocked you that Sam actually believed you didn’t feel attracted to him. Has he never noticed that you sometimes stare at him a little too long while he’s cracking one of his adorable smiles? Has he never seen the blush creep up on your cheeks every time he would call you a cute pet name? Surely he could hear your pulse from where he was standing every time any physical contact was made. As these thoughts raced through your mind and you looked him in the eye, you saw that he truly was left in the dark about your feelings towards him.

 Deciding that actions speak louder than words, you swiftly leaned forward without warning, and placed your lips against his. Astonishingly, he responded without hesitation, his mouth in sync with yours. You felt like your heart was going to rip out of your chest as the kiss deepened, growing more and more passionate by the second. Tugging on the collar of his shirt to bring him closer, you caught the scent of his cologne, a slightly spicy smell that you could never get enough of. 

 Both of you break away from each other for air, only pausing for a few seconds before going right back to kissing Sam. Although this time, the two of you sat up from the desk, slowly making your way to your bed. Surprisingly, you got there smoother than expected, not even having to break the kiss.

 Sam pushed you gently onto the bed, your back softly hitting the mattress. He laid on top of you, the sensation of his body hovering over you made you overwhelmingly dizzy. Your breath hitched as his lips found his was across your jaw and down towards your neck. Your hands roamed across his chest as you moaned faintly once Sam had kissed the sweet spot on your neck. You felt the heat rise up in your cheeks as you realized you made that sound, and you could only hope that he didn’t hear that. Unfortunately, you could feel a smirk being pressed up against your neck, which confirmed he did indeed hear you.

 Just as he was about to tease you about it, you heard your bedroom door creak open, followed by a, “Whoa, what the hell guys?!”

 Sam hurriedly pushed himself from you, now sitting next to you in bed. Your jaw dropped as you saw Nathan standing at your door frame, a look of horror on his face, his eyes as wide as saucers. “There’s nothing going on!” You exclaimed, trying to diffuse this whole rather awkward situation. Looking next to you at Sam for some help, he seemed to be rather amused by this, pretending to have to cough while in reality, he was actually laughing. 

 Swinging your head back to Nate, trying to think of something to change the subject, you saw Sam in the corner of your eye lean in towards you. He was so close you could feel his breath against your ear, sending chills throughout your whole body. “More like there’s something going off.” He whispered in your ear teasingly, as you felt his hands brush up against the hem of your shirt. You placed both of your hands on his chest and gave him a gentle push. Giving you one last smug look, he turned his head towards Nathan.

 “So, what did you need help with little brother?” Sam inquired him while scooting off the edge of your bed, acting like nothing had ever happened. 

 “I just needed help with laying out our sleeping bags until I found you and [Y/N]-”

 “Okay, and we’re going now,” Sam said, cutting off Nate’s previous sentence, much to your relief. You watched as he ushered Nathan out of the room, starting to swing the door close. Before he could do that though, he looked over his shoulder, giving you a wink while saying, “See you in a few, Princess,” and with that, he closed the door, leaving you a flustered and blushing mess.

talking about james and q’s age difference yesterday reminded me of this part of the script from skyfall for all of you wonder just how much of an age difference there is

personally i think q is in his mid-twenties but like no matter what you think holy shit bond is quite a bit older than him

anonymous asked:

Headcanon that there was a fashion sequence like Charlie and dean had for Qstiel and Cad for his new outfit but it had to be cut for time and somehow the mood just wasnt level w the plot this eps

oh gosh… qstiel didn’t send Cas to the walmart E, he took him to like two dozen different stores (let’s imagine one is the Hot Topical for funsies, shall we?). He goes through a dozen or so different outfits, everything from something like Abercrombie to something from the sports fanatic shop to a surf shop to Brooks Brothers or something… and Cas is just rolling his eyes through the whole thing until finally Qstiel just reaches out and grabs the closest blue tie and tan trench coat and just shoves him out into the world because he hasn’t had enough sleep to deal with Cas’s complaints about everything…

*puts him in Dallas Cowboys fan gear* I don’t know if I support any sporting franchise enough for this outfit, Cas grumbles as he picks at the giant blue star on his chest. Plus I visit regions of the United States that find this particular team rather off-putting, and I’d rather not risk ill feelings directed at me without cause because of my clothing choice.

*puts him in board shorts and a wetsuit top complete with accessory surfboard* I spend most of my time in the midwest and there are no beaches in Kansas.

*puts him in $3000 hand tailored tux* Dean would say I resemble James Bond, which he’d find amusing, but it seems a bit formal for everyday wear.

*puts him in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and for some inexplicable reason, eyeliner* I can appreciate the appeal of this band, and I enjoy their Top 13 Traxx, but these pants seem a bit restrictive *as his thighs nearly burst the seams* and I doubt the eyeliner will conform to the FBI regulations Dean insists I adhere to in my appearance, since Sam refuses to get a haircut. Only one of us is allowed to be so obviously outside of regulations at a time, lest we raise suspicions with local law enforcement.

*puts him in khaki cargo shorts and a pink polo shirt. also aviator sunglasses, and ridiculously, flip flops* This is a flattering shade of pink, and I appreciate the way these glasses eliminate glare, and also having ample pockets to keep necessities in, these shoes seem highly impractical, and potentially dangerous.

*puts him in a Batman costume from the party store* I do believe that Dean is already Batman, and I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings.

(this is the point where Qstiel absolutely breaks)

Okay so I just got online and I haven’t read much about analyzing the Kingsman 2 trailer yet.

But I’m just gonna say I think it’s significant that his hair isn’t styled??

Even when he woke up from the coma he styled his hair before anything else, it was slicked back when he was applying what I can only assume was aftershave. harry is super image conscious his hair is also darker and shorter here, more brown and not so blond.

Is this going to be some James Bond ‘I took the opportunity to ‘die’ for a little bit and just enjoy being dead’ bullshit

That room is suspect as hell too look at how it’s all white and padded yet scuffed??

I’m wondering if maybe this is part of the dream sequence we saw in the teaser. We saw the digital butterflies flying in 3d from Harry’s walls and Mr Pickle, even though we know at the very beginning of the movie Harry’s house and the Kingsman base blow up.

The trailer JUST came out like an hour ago so I haven’t had time to sit down and thoroughly comb through every frame for thoughts and projections, but I’m pulling out a few things because Harry’s comeback is particularly interesting and they’re giving us strange clues in the trailers

 And I’m leaning toward this shot we see of Harry isn’t legitimate. More like a drug induced dream sequence. With the amount of food shots we see for Poppy (I know she has a diner but bare with me) and the golden bottles in the preview, what if they’re carrying a drug of some kind? Eggsy would be a test for it in some capacity, where he hallucinates Harry and Harry’s house - I’m guessing - after seeing something hinting at Harry being alive whether it be photos or videos or straight up seeing Harry.

I don’t think Harry’s not in it sincerely or anything, he totally is. But maybe not this specific shot.

Is anyone following me am I talking out my ass here

Tropes that need to die: ‘terrible at talking to girls’ There’s nothing wrong with depicting how hard it is to talk to people you fancy, how much it makes idiots if us all, and there’s nothing wrong with the use of that for laughs about how out of their depth a certain socialyl inept character is. But the framing of that as 'women are judgemental keepers of sex who are icily expecting you to complete a rigorous flirting exercise’ and 'it’s hilarious and embarrassing when a guy says an odd, geeky fact cos everyone knows girls are only interested in hearing some James Bond pickup line’ bit needs to go away. Women are not higher-romantic-status arbiters of suaveness, and I’m tired both of us being portrayed as in charge and sure-footed about this stuff (which doesn’t show young girls that it’s normal to be goofy and insecure and lost, and that romance should be an equal meeting, not women babying men else through the process), and of the implication that 'talking to women’ is somehow separate from 'having a conversation with a fellow human being’. It just feels like another way in which women are portrayed as puzzles to unlock so sex can happen rather than complex, troubled, nuanced people seeking connection and learning, just like men are allowed to be. Another way in which if he says the right thing at the right time a man has earned access to the resource that is Woman rather than human relationships being ongoing negotiations between two hopeful and unsure people doing their best.

anonymous asked:

Who's the better gentleman spy.. James Bond or Harry Hart?

Going to stir the pot a bit with this one.. but here goes……

Bond may be credited with being a gentleman spy, but he’s actually rather rude. Bond can be seen boarding a boat (without invitation) then walking up to a sleeping person and kicking them awake while yelling at them that he’s ‘chartering their boat’, dumping an unconscious woman into an unknown man’s arms and going off, among other things that I just could never picture Harry doing. I love Bond, don’t get me wrong, ….but he’s a bit of a dick a lot of the time. 

Harry, on the other hand, remains perfectly charming.. even towards Valentine whom he probably suspects is one of the worst people he’s gone up against. Aside from a rather salty look when Valentine shakes Eggsy’s hand (hands off the goods Valentine! haha) he remains cordial towards him, perhaps tensely so, but still. He does tell Chester “You’re a snob.” in a very ‘with all due respect, fuck off’ tone. But Chester looks down on people (when he was probably from the lower ranks himself) and he doesn’t uphold Kingsman’s values …and Harry probably just finds it (and him) insufferable. His temper does flare at Eggsy, once, though it seems that he’s more angry with himself over things/not doing enough/because he cares so deeply for him. Even with Eggsy’s yelling at and insulting him, Harry calms with the ‘can’t you see everything I’ve done has been to make up for everything’ line.. causing Eggsy, who is the little hot head, to instantly mellow. Not that, that was Harry’s intention.. he was just being honest. Until that point Eggsy has some pent up blame towards him, and Harry probably knows it. It’s the hardest/worse situation between them ..and Harry handles it like a class act. Beyond that, he’s personable and charming. I find it very odd and out of character if/when he isn’t.

Parallels between Bond and Harry are that they’re (probably) the best agents from their organizations, both are highly intelligent, can quickly think their way out of any situation, are resourceful, can banter and get a foe to take their bait and leave them with a cheeky/witty remark that angers them/makes them lose focus while they smile and are already five steps ahead plotting their escape.

Who’s the better ‘agent’ could be debated. Fight wise, considering he took out a church full of people by himself, Harry. However, the question was ‘who’s the better gentleman spy?’ Bond may be suave and sleek doing ‘spy stuff’ while the Bond Theme plays in the background ….but when you combine everything ..hands down …I’d say it’s Harry!

Actually.. I’ve always thought Harry was based more on (the charismatically charming and impeccably dressed) John Steed from The Avengers (no not THAT one.. Google: The Avengers tv series) than on James Bond. Steed is a secret agent working for an unnamed branch of British intelligence that fights with his manners and a crook handle umbrella…

…and he had a blue velvet tux… (and pretty much looks like he could of been Harry’s father)

…not to mention he was paired with a (track suit wearing) arse kicking widow working as a spy along side him ..with lots of subtext between them. Their verbal interactions ranged from witty banter to thinly disguised innuendo. (Bit of a taboo given the times/that she was a widow) …and because of their significant age difference …which also sounds familiar.

 Mrs. Peel was a certified genius/specialized in chemistry and other sciences. A heroine and she was rarely defeated in fights, a martial arts master, formidable fencer, and often rescued Steed when he was in trouble. I’m curious if/how Eggsy ‘rescues’ Harry in K2.