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mi6-cafe · 5 years ago

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THESE ARE THE FINAL LDWS DRABBLES!

For the finale, we asked our competitors to write exactly 400 words in which they had to use the phrase “we aim to please”.

The did an excellent job so come read and vote and help us decide THE ONE DRABBLE WRITER TO RULE THEM ALL...

HOW DO YOU VOTE?

Read all the drabbles. (they’re below the line)

Choose three that you like the most.

Fill out this VOTING FORM, telling us your favourites. (You can even leave anonymous feedback for the author).

NOTE: If you are a competitor, you CANNOT vote for your own fic. But please, do vote. :)

The voting period ends at 11:59 PM EST on Sunday night. Results will be posted and anonymous feedback will be emailed on Monday.

Title: Live to Serve Author: sorion Warnings: alludes to the current political climate in the US (and to a lesser degree the UK) Summary: Bond completes objectives. How he completes them is up to him.

Bond barely batted an eye when his solitary corner of the bar he'd chosen was invaded by another patron with his own drink.

"Felix," he greeted him.

"James. What a surprise."

Bond's smirk widened. "Tell the truth. You knew I was in the States the moment I set foot on the ground."

Felix's lip twitched sardonically. "When you got on the plane to come here."

Bond chuckled.

"I've learned that it pays to keep track of your movements." He tilted his head to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Just in case."

"I'd be insulted if I didn't do the same thing with you."

They grinned at each other wordlessly and returned to their drinks.

"So," Felix interrupted their companionable silence. "What brings you here?"

"Is that American for, 'What havoc can I expect you to wreak on my home turf'?"

Felix pretended to consider that. "Sounds about right."

Bond's amused eyes wandered to the muted news on the television in the corner of the bar and darkened. "Not as much havoc as I'd like to wreak."

Felix followed his line of sight. "Tell me about it," he agreed. Then he straightened, cleared his throat, and added in a chatty tone, "What's your people's stance on overthrowing foreign governments, these days?"

Bond, fortunately, wasn't swallowing at that moment, or he would have choked on it. It still took all his not inconsiderable self-restraint to not laugh out loud. "Overthrowing governments of allies is sadly frowned upon." He pondered that for a second. "Yours?"

"Same." He leaned closer. "Any orders to such an effect, regardless?" he asked carefully.

Bond shook his head. "More's the pity. I live to serve, and I serve by completing objectives." He squinted at Felix. "How I complete them is my prerogative, however."

Felix nodded slowly, indicating that he was operating similarly.

"What I'd like to do," Bond continued, his lethal eyes on the news, "would be like trying to put out a fire with nitro-glycerine, so I was thinking something more subtle."

"Mhm..." Felix hummed, his voice thrumming with satisfaction. "Subtle is not quite your thing."

Bond's shark-like smile was all teeth. "I know a guy..."

"Smart, dark-haired, gorgeous, can kill from his bed in his pyjamas?" Felix guessed.

They shared a look like two bloodhounds catching a scent.

Felix held out his hand.

Bond took it.

"We live to serve. We aim to please."

Title: An Assist Author: Anyawen Warnings: Summary: Bond learns that he's been equipped with an unlooked-for advantage.

Bond paused, studying the bullet he was loading into his spare clip. There were scratches on the base of the casing. That was decidedly odd. Q would never send out ammunition with any sort of flaw that could impair its use, or worse, damage the gun — or the agent using it. He ran a finger over the base but couldn't detect the scratches. Turning it in his hands he looked again. Definitely there. And, he checked, also on all the other bullets in the clip. The chance of a bad bullet from Q-branch was staggeringly small, but not zero. The chance of an entire bad batch escaping notice, however, could be measured in negative numbers. If Q sent these bullets out into the field, then these marks were meant to be there. There must be a reason for them. There was something niggling at him. He’d seen this pattern of scratches before. He glanced over at his Walther. Picking it up he peered at it closely, turning it over and over in his hands. Ah. There it was. On the back of the trigger was a faint glimmer of markings. ... .||. .|.. .| |.|. . .|. . ... | ..| |.. . || ..| ... It took him a minute to recognize that the lines were dashes among a smattering of dots. After that realization the letters came easily. "placere studemus" Translating the Latin took slightly longer. A moment later he tapped his ear and heard the faint ambient sounds of Q-branch through the earwig. "Do you require assistance, 007?" Q asked. "Interesting numbers in your annual report." "Focus on the mission, Bond. We can discuss— " "Decreased stray bullet injuries on ops over the last year, but no noticeable increase in range scores," Bond continued, speaking over Q. "True." "We're hitting our targets more often without actually being better shots." "An impressive feat." "Very. I've not seen magic like it since my gran passed." "I- What?" "She was a hedge witch." "Oh. Are you ..." "No," Bond replied as he finished loading the clip. "Can't sense or cast magic. Recognized the marks as spellwork, though. Nice work. You're some sort of technomage?" "Something like that." "And the spell?" "Merely an assist." "An effective one." "Thank you." "Just one thing, Q." "Yes?" "Is that phrase really the best anchor you could come up with?" "Well. You can't deny it's apropos. After all, 'we aim to please.'”

Title: Marketing Research Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: sex? Summary: Bond discovers what Q Branch has been working on lately

“Well, well, Quinn.”

As Bond dropped the gunmetal grey box next to his laptop, Q felt a cold shudder spill down his spine. There were still a few secrets he’d managed to keep from his lover, though apparently he now had one less. “You should never have been able to access that part of the lab.”

“Mmm, so I was informed. Top Secret. I had to be quite persuasive. An interesting project though, Quinn.”

Q fought down a surge of jealousy at the thought of what that persuasion might have been. “You know that’s not my real name, it’s just a joke amongst the techs.” He crossed his arms in irritation. “Dammit, James, you were snooping! This prototype was meant to be a birthday surprise.”

“It’s certainly surprising.” Bond’s finger traced the embossed lettering lovingly. “And not at all an exploding pen, which I was rather expecting. However did you get this past the projects committee?”

Q sighed. “Given the proclivities of double-ohs, it was an easy sell as a test product. A quite unexpected way to deliver drugs or implant trackers, should the need arise.”

“The box is a bit of a giveaway, though, don’t you think? The logo is literally a Q with a tree branch entwined.”

“That’s not the final packaging! They were just having a bit of a joke!”

Bond raised an eyebrow as he opened the box, stroking a finger delicately over the contents. Q felt a twitch of reluctant arousal as he watched those so very precise fingertips linger on certain details.

“So delightfully unexpected, Q,” James purred as he picked up the creamy vellum card inside. “‘Quinn’tessential Ecstasies,” he read aloud. “Is all of Q Branch so prone to puns and in-jokes?” He smirked and dropped the card back into the box. “But don’t you think ‘We Aim To Please’ is a bit on the nose for a gun-shaped dildo?” James chuckled, picking it up and fondling it in a way that made Q’s trousers just a little more snug.

Q glared. “As if subtlety is your strong suit.”

James laughed wickedly. “I’m quite impressed with the trigger-activated vibrations. Whatever made you think of this?”

“It seemed natural, since an exploding pen is out of the question in the bedroom, and you do have a rather unhealthy attachment to your Walther.”

“It needs testing. And since you present such a tempting target, Q…”

Title: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: None Summary: On an undercover mission, Bond considers the merits of murdering customers.

“Is the hazelnut syrup sugar-free?”

Bond bit back a sigh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m afraid not. Only the cinnamon and vanilla syrups are sugar-free.”

It wasn’t the stupidest question in the world, but this had been going on for five minutes. Or maybe three. It felt like five hours.

First, it had been “what’s the difference between a latte and a flat white?” Which… fair enough. He’d had to quickly remember his crash course in coffee-making to bullshit an explanation without saying “the flat white is cheaper but costs more.”

Then, it was “why does the oat milk have a surcharge but the soy milk doesn’t?” prompting a lesson in the economics of non-dairy milk alternatives all the while considering drowning his customer in said soy milk.

So: not the stupidest question in the world, but quite possibly the stupidest customer.

“I’ll have a cappuccino.”

Seriously?

“Was that with soy milk?”

“Oh no, just regular milk’s fine.”

How was this his life?!

“Syrup?”

“No, thanks.”

He could feel his molars grinding with the force of his fake smile. Five minutes! For nothing!

“And what name is it?”

“Karen.”

Of course it was.

He had been stuck in this god-forsaken job for three weeks, and was seriously weighing the pros and cons of ‘accidentally’ causing an explosion. Things like that happened, right? He could probably get away with it

“No, you can’t kill her.”

Bond stifled a groan. Bad enough that he was stuck undercover as a bloody barista in Canada, without having Q in his ear all day judging his latte art and thwarting his murder plans. It turned out the Quartermaster was the bloody customer service police.

“I would never,” he muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. The last thing he needed was for his temporary “colleagues” to overhear him talking to thin air.

“Of course not. Just like you’d never feed your gun to a komodo dragon.”

“You know damned well that was an accident,” he whispered, sprinkling cocoa powder through a bloody maple leaf stencil. “How much longer, Q?”

Q just hummed apologetically.

Straightening his shoulders and pasting another ‘friendly’ smile on his face, Bond handed over the drink.

“Well, at least you’re generous with the cocoa.”

“Fuck you, Karen.”

“We aim to please. Enjoy your drink.”

Bond wondered whether he could talk Q into blowing the place up after all.

Title: Distraction Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: paranoia can be a healthy attitude around some people

As a rule, Q always was rather suspicious of quiet - whether that was a side effect of working in espionage or just his nature, he wasn't particularly sure but he knew better than wasting too much brainpower on such considerations. Besides, a healthy dose of paranoia always paid off if the feeling was carefully kept on a leash. Hand going to grab his taser, Q entered the bedroom and his eyes immediately zeroed in on his lovers "What are you doing?" "Who - us?" James inquired with a shiteating grin, dramatically pointing at his own chest "Man of little faith" Q gestured at Raoul, lounging against the bed post "At least he has the decency to not try to fool me" he pointed out as he relaxed in increments, tension gradually leaving his body as he made his way to the bed to sit at its foot "So?" "What makes you think we are up to anything?" The younger man batted James' hand away from his calf "You always are up to something when you're quiet: it's not like either of you" Raoul's chuckle was satiny and dark - if Q hadn't found it ridiculous to compare a sound to food, his mind would have probably come up with some kind of stupid similitude involving a rich, dark chocolate cake "We aim to please, mi querido" "That awfully sounds like an admission of guilt" "Maybe" Raoul leaned over, finger tapping the point of the other's nose just to see the way it would scrunch up at the bothersome gesture "But who says I feel guilty about any of it?" Taking advantage of Q's distraction, their lover clearly too busy - and failing at - glaring Raoul into properly confessing, James wrapped his hand around his ankle and tugged firmly, a delighted chuckle escaping his lips at the little shriek Q let out "Let's talk about it later" he murmured, bending down to brush their lips together "There's funnier things to do" "Just tell me the place isn't gonna get swarmed by whatever international agency might be thirsting for our heads" Raoul palmed his cheek, gently turning his head to meet his eyes "I promise" Q sighed, eyes rolling even as he reached for the nape of the other's neck while he sneaked a foot between James' legs "Fine, but don't you think you can postpone this conversation for much longer" "Wouldn't dream of it"

Title: Souvenirs Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: mild BDSM themes Summary: Bond likes giving Q souvenirs of his travels.

Q examined the box squatting in the center of his desk, a cardboard enigma with a security clearance tag. The shipping label indicated it had originated from Elko, Nevada. Q closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The only agent recently conducting operations in the US was Bond. The joint operation between the CIA and MI6 focused on an information dealer selling military secrets from both Britain and the US. Bond had been pleased to be working with his old friend Felix Leiter. Q had been entertained by Bond and Leiter as the pair entered what Felix had described as a legal brothel.

Bond: “Only in America.” Bond's voice held a hint of astonishment. “All that neon makes my eyes water.”

Leiter: “Ah yes, one stop shopping for a certain type of client.”

Bond: “Felix. They have a gift shop. The souvenirs must be epic.”

Successful, Bond had returned and this had appeared. Q looked at the box reproachfully. Bond and his souvenirs. Being romantically involved with the man had only increased his penchant for gifting Q with odd objects. He carefully slit the tape and opened the flaps, prodding carefully at the packing peanuts. The first item was a six pack of seasonings and sauces intended for American style barbecue. Unusually practical. He resolved to investigate how to use them as he placed the jars on the shelf behind him and dug further. His fingers encountered a narrow object that flexed a bit as he removed it. He flushed with embarrassment although he was alone in the office as he withdrew a riding crop in a rather nice leather finish with the initials MHHP stamped on the handle in gold. He gave it an experimental swing, neatly sending a packing peanut flying. Digging produced a final item. He shook out the tee shirt, and read the logo that explained it all. 'Madame Helga's House of Pain, Barbecue Joint, and Rifle Range' was displayed across the front. The back had an image of an androgynous figure with a bullseye painted on it's pert derrière and the legend, 'We aim to please'. His phone pinged and he checked the text. Bond had sent a video which proved to be a short loop of the neon display at Madame Helga's featuring an animated dominatrix landing a crop in the center of the bullseye. The text accompaniment said, 'Care to provide a target, darling?'

Title: Timing is Everything Author: Iambid (Flantastic) Warnings: None Summary: James needs a new hobby.

YOU'RE EARLY AGAIN, said the Grim Reaper, with a hint of surprise.

“I am?” James asked, sounding a lot calmer than he currently felt.

He looked around himself. He’d been in Saudi Arabia, on the trail of an assassin, when everything had gone to hell. He’d been captured, beaten, tortured and then dumped in the middle of nowhere, somewhere south of Ash Shalfa. The last thing that he remembered was lying broken and bloody in the burning desert, baking under the merciless sun.

Now it appeared he was in a wood-panelled office, not unlike the one that M used.

Except M’s had never had a skeleton dressed in a black robe sitting at its desk. Well. As far as James knew.

YOU KEEP DOING THIS, Death said, shuffling through the thick paper file in front of him. Her. It. Whatever.

“I do?” James asked, still not entirely sure he knew what was going on.

MMMMM. AGED TEN, FELL HEAD-FIRST OUT OF A TREE. AGED TWENTY-ONE. GOT INTO A FIGHT ON THE HMS ALBION, PUSHED OFF THE FLIGHT-DECK INTO THE ADRIATIC SEA. AGED FORTY-TWO, SHOT OFF A NINETY-EIGHT METRE BRIDGE BY A… Death paused, bringing the page closer to their face. They seemed to squint, which wasn’t bad going for a skull … IT SAYS A ‘FRIEND’.

“That would be Moneypenny.” James explained.

THERE ARE COUNTLESS INCIDENTS LIKE THIS. NEED I GO ON?

“I shouldn’t think so.” James admitted.

COME WITH ME, Death commanded. They rose, and floated towards the door. James obediently followed them. The door opened and on the other side, they found themselves in a hospital room. The occupants didn’t seem to notice.

YOU SEEM TO THINK THAT RESURRECTION IS A HOBBY. IT ISN’T. DESPITE YOUR BEST EFFORTS, I SIMPLY CAN’T TAKE WHAT ISN’T MINE YET.

James stepped forward and saw that he was the man in the bed and the man in the chair next to him, the man pressing tearful kisses to the back of his bandaged hand, was Q.

YOU BELONG TO HIM. HE’S WAITING FOR YOU TO LOVE HIM. YOU’LL BE MINE ONCE YOU’VE GIVEN HIM A LONG HAPPY LIFE.

James jerked awake, his body suddenly screaming out with a hundred injuries. He gasped but Q was there, soothing him, calming him. He squeezed his hand and Q smiled.

“You saved me.” He croaked.

“Smart blood. Latest tech. We aim to please.” Q replied.

Title: The Problem With Retirement Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: retirement or reunion

The diner was full of quiet little noises this late at night. Silverware clinking, a pen scratching across a booklet of crossword puzzles, tired sighs of the late-night drivers, and in the corner a booth full of a tired family. Where had it all gone wrong?

The snap of chewing gum and their waitress’s voice drew him out of his musings. “Welcome to the Georgia Peach, we aim to please. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

A long-suffering sigh blew out of the wide mouth that had been until then, pinched tight in annoyance. “Just coffee for him.”

The waitress was a behemoth of a working professional, much like Bond, and simply offered Q a wide smile, showing just a hint of gold at the edges. “And for his lordship?”

Bond answered for him. “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

“Okay, one coffee and hot tea for His Lordship.” She winked at Q and spun on her heel.

Q’s folded his hands under his chin and studied Bond for the minutes it took for their waitress to bring back a carafe of coffee, a mug of hot water on a saucer, and a pathetic excuse for a teabag.

Bond sipped at his coffee as he watched the disgust crawl across Q’s perfect, bony little face. He missed that face.

“Enough. Why am I here and why are you bleeding?”

“Am I bleeding?” Bond reached under his jacket, his fingers came away wet and red. “Huh, thought it was ketchup.”

“You’re supposed to be in the middle of Jamaica. Retired.”

“You could say that. I need your help. Madeline needs your help”

Q stared long and hard at Bond. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Running off with her, abandoning m...MI6 taking the car-” He broke off his tirade when Bond reached forward and laid his hand on his, blood smearing along the pale skin.

Q’s eyes focused on the blood.

“I never said WE retired together. She’s been a good neighbor, a good friend. That’s all. She still had her secrets. They found her. Whoever THEY are and she needs your help.” Bond curled his fingers under and gripped Q’s hand tightly.

Q made a weak attempt to look away. His eyes stuttered back when Bond’s finger brushed across his wrist and gave an answer Q was not expecting.

“Oh, how I missed you, Q.”

Title: Improvisation Author: AtoTheBean Warnings: None Summary: Turn-about is… unpleasant.

He nurses a scotch and watches the mark, Jason Abernathy, at a table in the corner. Businessman. Mid-40s. On his third round, a group of beautiful people laughing at his jokes. He’s ignoring the dance floor, despite the urging of the blonde at his table. And he’s noticed Bond watching, but hasn’t approached him. Another agent is on her way as back-up. Perhaps she’ll be more to his taste. Bond turns the card over in his fingers “Discreet Escorts: We aim to please!” It’s not subtle, but it has a certain charm. If it were just a high-end escort business, he wouldn’t be here. But if it’s a quasi-legal front for a human trafficking ring... “007?” R asks. Bond raises his drink to his lips. “Hmmm?” “Change of plans.” Bond surveys the room, waiting for clarification. It comes in the form of Q wearing skinny jeans and a tight purple shirt. Q smiles flirtatiously and moves around Bond so his back is to the mark. “New intel. 003 won’t be to his taste either. We had to improvise.” “Improvise?” “Reject me,” Q whispers. “Loudly.” Bond glances at the mark and sees his gaze fixed on Q’s arse. “You’re not what I want,” Bond shouts, pushing Q away. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand. “Is there a problem?” Jason asks, sliding in beside Q. Q levels a dazzling smile at him. “No problem. My new employer sent me to a potential client, and I’m not what he wants.” “Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Who’s your employer?” Q hands him a card just like Bond’s. “Oh, I am. Shall we see how well you take our motto to heart?” Jason leads Q to the dance floor. Bond is forced to watch them “dance” for ten minutes, until it’s really just grinding and snogging. They pass him again on the way to the loo, and Bond feels something heavy drop into his pocket. Jason’s phone. Bond moves to the door. “I have it.” “And the drive?” R asks. “Inserting now.” Within minutes, the data has been retrieved and Q’s bug is installed. Bond wanders back in the bar, dismayed to see Q is still missing. “He’s fine,” R assures. Bond doesn’t like it. He heads down the hall to the loo, placing the phone on the seat the mark vacated as he passes. The door is locked. “Stand down, 007.” He orders another drink and waits.

#10

Title: Echoes Author: Shush_MummyWriting Warnings: None. Summary: Five + One. Bond hearing echoes.

Bond was surprised at how relaxing it was at Q’s parents’ house. It was filled with homely touches, photos of Q and his brothers through the years, plants and knick-knacks on the shelves. There was even a hand stitched frame in the downstairs bathroom that declared “In this house, we aim to please. In this room, you aim too, please!”. It felt like a home.

It was the second fitting for Bond’s latest suit. The tailor was a genius, the way he managed to conceal the gun holster. “Anything else, Mr. Bond?” he asked. “Perhaps a touch longer in the sleeve.” Bond replied. “Of course sir, we aim to please after all.” Bond smiled.

Bond was actually using his office, studying for his upcoming mission. Eve sauntered in, perched on the edge of his desk and asked, “How much do you love me?” dangling an envelope between two manicured fingers. “It depends on what that is.” said Bond, taking it. “Travel documents where I, your best friend, have managed to secure first-class tickets for your Brazil flights.” “Thank you!” said Bond, who detested long hours in cattle class. As Eve strolled out of the office, she tossed over her shoulder “We aim to please!”.

As Bond entered the R&D department, he was met with the sight of Alec, waving a brochure in the direction of Q, who appeared to be ignoring him. “Seriously Q, just have a look at these specifications. It would be an asset. And it looks awesome! Did you see the clever headline for it?” Q grabbed the brochure, exclaiming “That headline alone is reason enough NOT to buy it. What kind of company would market a rifle sight with the motto “We Aim to Please!” Seriously! Now away with you, I have work to do.” and gestured Bond forward.

Q went over each piece of equipment, saving the best for last. “This is simple, press the top three times quickly, jam it into the keyhole and step back.” Bond took it with a look of wonder “Q, you’ve made me an exploding pen!” Q’s blush was adorable as he muttered “We aim to please.”

Bond settled his breathing, sighting on his target. It should have been an impossible shot - the distance, the weather, etc but between his skill and Q's equipment, another minor government official/major crime lord met his fate. "We aim to please." Bond muttered.

#11

Title: Flirting With the Wild Cat Author: scarytheory Warnings: angst Summary: Moneypenny has a secret.

We aim to please.

There are new documents on her desk, and she's feeling sick to her stomach.

Oh yes. We do.

They met when she was still a field agent.

“Miss Moneypenny.”

“Miss Galore.”

It would have been a standard honeypot mission if they didn't hate each other instantly. But there was something they needed, so they flirted, got drunk and angrily fucked on the balcony. In the end, Eve got the information and Pussy Galore didn't.

It should have ended there. But sometimes Mallory needed to contact Galore again, and Eve was the best agent for it – even after she became a secretary.

Eve honestly didn't mind; she loved a challenge, and Galore gave her just that. It was always a rush of emotions, it was hatred with a twist, a complicated game – who was better, smarter, wittier. The constant battle for dominance. Which was also a basis for incredible sex.

They started spending more time together, and suddenly they were laughing and talking about their lives. They didn't even need a mission for that – whatever that was. It didn't feel like they were enemies anymore.

Eve should have known better.

She never should have trusted her.

“You betrayed me.”

“And you are surprised, Moneypenny? This is what I do, what we do – me, you, all your agents and all my people. We aim to please, Eve. We were trained for it, we were trained to be horrible people. However, it’s our bosses we’re meant to please first and foremost. We're fucked up and you know it. There is no way you could disobey an order from M and I have my duties as well.”

“I would never use you.”

Except she already had. But that was before the laughter, before... everything.

“Honestly, did you believe that there was some miraculous happy ending for us? We are the same and yet different; a heroine and a villain. You should be glad it’s ending only in heartbreak and not with death.” She always loved big words and big speeches.

“I hate you, Galore.”

“Oh, but you don't, darling. That's the problem.”

And now Eve's sitting at her desk and staring at the documents. 007 got a new job. Eliminate a target who is no longer useful to them.

Yet, there is still time to warn her.

We aim to please. Until we don't.

#12

Title: A Pizza Pie Author: Ksan ( @starrboned-art ) Warnings: None Summary: Bond and Q are having a quiet afternoon together.

"James, that is not - stop that!" Q grabbed James' wrist before he could pour the sauce on the pizza dough.

"Q, that's how I’ve always made pizza." James gave his wrist an experimental wiggle, but the boffin was holding tight, eyes daring him to move.

"You need to oil the edges first," Q insisted, waving the brush and splashing oily drops everywhere.

James conceded, if only to not get his dark blue shirt stained.

"As you say, chef." James smirked, setting the hot pan aside. Q gave the dough a quick brush, nodding at James. "Now you can pour the sauce."

"Yes, chef."

"Stop it," Q said with a huff, but James spotted a quirk to his lips as he turned to the counter. A few plates laid ready with sliced vegetables and meats, all waiting to be added to the pizza.

"Just make sure that the champignons won't touch my side of the pizza." James scowled at the innocent white mushrooms.

Q gave him a smirk. "You are very particular about your food."

"I have a very particular taste," James countered with a suggestive smile. Q laughed, turning to put the pizza into the oven. James managed to steal a few sliced cherry tomatoes from Q's pile before he got caught.

"Go get the wine," Q said, "I'll get the glasses."

"So bossy today," James smirked, ruffling Q's curls. He escaped into the sunlit living room before Q could swat at him with a towel.

It was late noon on a Saturday, and for once none of them had any world-dooming emergencies to solve. The cats were basking in the late sun, the curtains swayed slightly as the evening breeze blew through the open windows.

James opened a red shiraz with a pop. With the wine ready on the table, he closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the quiet rustle Q made in the kitchen.

"Double-o agent, falling asleep?" Q's hand snuck around his waist, chin peeking over his shoulder.

"Before dinner?! You know agents, Q - we aim to please," James turned, kissing Q's smile. He had tomato sauce on his cheek, which James licked (to Q's astonished laughter).

"Pleasing will have to wait for later," Q purred, shoving the wine glasses at James. "What should we toast to?"

James swirled his wine, a habit born out of years of fine dining.

"To more sunny afternoons together."

#13

Title: game Author: azure7539 Warnings: canon typical violence

Summary: Hide and seek as usual, but it's interesting all the same. Just another day at work.

Nausea roils like a particularly stormy sea in the midst of a hurricane, and all he can hear is the whistling of his own breathing as his throat wheezes around air before it rattles into his ribcage and never truly fills up those burning lungs.

He’s been running for so long, he can no longer feel the screaming in his feet.

The throng of people felt like a good idea at first, a thick crowd celebrating some local holiday, but now every face seems suspicious, every pair of eyes lingering on just a tad too long. The enemies can be anywhere, can be anyone.

Vertigo dips his world as he crashes into a phone booth, thinking, assuming, he’s managed to put decent distance between him and his chasers, spare change clinking as the coins spill from his shaking hands.

Fuck. Fuck, what’s the number again…

Eight, five, three, two—

The line rings. Once. Twice.

“Hello,” a posh voice he’s never heard before picks up, nonchalant and indifferent. “Identification, please.”

“S-SPCTR-6304,” he nearly trips on his own tongue saying the words.

“One moment.” Soft typing filters through, the calmness perforating through the mad chaos in his mind. But adrenaline licks at his heels—he’s finally standing still long enough to feel the way how wracking tremors are seizing up his overtaxed muscles—and he wants to scream and vibrate out of his skin.

His instincts are shouting at him to start running again, to keep at it until he finds a trustworthy point of contact, something more than just another voice on the other side of a line.

But that’s the thing. This ‘voice on the other side of a line’ is one of his last remaining trustworthy points of contact. The rest are just… gone.

Someone shrieks from over where the people have gathered at the end of the alley, and he’s one hair’s breadth away from slamming back into the wall.

His heart is beating too fast.

“Ah, Mr Roswell. Good to hear from you again,” the person says, pleasantly. A pause. “Did you enjoy your final game?”

“What—”

“At MI6, we aim to please, after all,” the voice drops into a low baritone. Dangerous.

Like the monsters of his nightmares culminating into one singular point of existence.

The last thing he sees before life drains from him are twin pools of glacier. As blue and unreachable as the sky above.

___

You wonderful LDWS writers, you! Thank you so much for writing us these!

And thank you, readers, for reading and voting! THANK YOU!

#ldws #james bond #james bond fanfiction #drabbles #writing challenge

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vanilla107 · 6 years ago

Text

Adora’s First Birthday Party

“It’s my birthday but why do I feel so empty?” she murmured.

“Adora? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” a gentle voice asked from behind her and she turned around to see Queen Angella in the corridor, looking concerned from the door.

“Your majesty! I…I’m just a little…um…”

She took a deep breath.

“I…I guess I feel sad.”

***************

It's Adora's birthday and Glimmer and Bow went all out to make it as memorable as possible. But what they don't know is that she's hurting inside but thankfully, Angella manages to remedy that.

Read on A03

She Ra Masterlist

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ADORA! THIS ONE'S FOR YOU!

This is my first drabble and I'm so freaking proud because all of my other She Ra fanfictions are freaking multichapter BUT I FINALLY MANAGED TO WRITE A ONE SHOT YES. Adora literally deserves the world and I hope that in the fictional world of Etheria that she's having a wonderful birthday.

Stay healthy! vanilla107 xoxo

******************

Adora had never been so overwhelmed in her whole life.

Cake, presents, all of her new friends and all of it had been planned by Bow and Glimmer? Birthdays were a foreign thing to her and she wasn’t sure if she was on a sugar high but she felt elated.

She had been woken up by pancakes in bed, followed by Bow and Glimmer presents. Bow had given her a friendship bracelet so that they all matched and Glimmer had given her shiny new boots.

“Adora! Come on, we’re gonna sing for you now!” Glimmer said with a laugh and lightly tugged on the blonde’s wrist. She was led to the middle of the throne room, that was elaborately decorated in streamers, balloons and a massive banner reading ‘Happy Birthday Adora!’ There was a table filled with pastries, sweets and in the center of it, the most beautiful cake she had ever seen.

“I wasn’t sure what your favourite flavour was,” began Bow as he placed the candles across the cake and turned to face her beaming.

“So there’s three layers, vanilla, chocolate and red velvet with buttercream icing. The mini figurines of all of us are made out of chocolate and I added some strawberries! What do you think?”

Adora’s eyes teared up.

“Oh Bow…it’s amazing.”

She gave him a long hug while Glimmer lit the candles and they all began to sing happy birthday. Adora went red as she wasn’t sure of she was supposed to sing along but instead just listened to them and looked at her cake. Once they were finished Glimmer gently nudged Adora.

“Blow out your candles and make a wish!”

“A wish?”

“It’s a tradition. If you blow out your candles you make a wish and it might just come true!”

Adora looked at the candles flickering and closed her eyes and wished. She opened them again and everyone clapped.

“Cake time!” Bow said and produced a large knife and handed it to the birthday girl.

“Birthday princess gets first cut.”

Adora took the knife and carefully cut the first layer and she took it out and placed it on a plate. To her surprise it was the chocolate layer. She took a bite of it and her taste buds exploded.

“Bow…this is…I can’t-“ He smiled and squeezed her shoulder.

“Your reaction is all I needed.” Adora finished her piece and watched all her friends enjoy themselves. Glimmer had put on some music and a few princesses had started dancing.

Adora suddenly felt the excitement build up inside her and her stomach was threatening to betray her.Her insides clenched and she looked for the nearest exit frantically.

She needed fresh air.

Now.

She quietly slipped out, promising to come back later. She walked along the corridor and stepped out to a balcony, inhaling the fresh air and allowing the dizziness and nausa to stop. She drank in the sunset and sighed heavily.

“It’s my birthday but why do I feel so empty?” she murmured.

“Adora? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” a gentle voice asked from behind her and she turned around to see Queen Angella in the corridor, looking concerned from the door.

“Your majesty! I…I’m just a little…um…”

She took a deep breath.

“I…I guess I feel sad.”

Angella took a few more steps so that she was on the balcony as well.

“Well, we can’t have the birthday girl feeling sad. What seems to be the problem?”

“Besides the complete sense of being overwhelmed?”

Angella gave her a small smile and joined her on the balcony.

"I know that Bow and Glimmer are excited to show you all the new festivities of Brightmoon but I can ask them to tone it down a little."

"No! I mean no, it's not that...I…I feel guilty. I’m celebrating with everyone and this is great and I’m grateful I just…”

Adora looked away and stared at the woods that separated the Horde from Brightmoon.

“You miss Catra.”

Adora look down and hot tears of frustration dripped down her cheeks.

“I keep thinking how much she’d...love all of this, y’know? Birthdays don’t exist in the Fright Zone and I know she’s with the Horde but I miss her! I know I look weak and I’m sorry-“

“Adora,” Angella said, and she stopped talking. “It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to frustrated and angry.”

“I...I wish...wish I had tried harder,” Adora stuttered.

Angella placed a hand on the girls' shoulder and wiped away her tears.

“There’s only so much you can do, Adora. You can’t force Catra to join the rebellion. It’s her choice. You…you can’t change people. You can only change yourself.”

“I wished for her to be here,” Adora sniffed.

“What do you mean?”

“That was my birthday wish. When I blew out my candles…I wished that she could be here. Kinda stupid, right? It was a naïve thing to do-”

Adora stopped as she lowered her head as more tears flowed. Angella looked at her sadly and slowly pulled her in for a hug. Adora was tense for a minute before hugging the Queen back, her body sagging in emotional exhaustion.

“I am sorry Adora. I...sort of understand how you're feeling. There…there are days when I want Micah to be here so badly but…I know that he’s gone. Catra is still out there and even though there are days when it seems to be impossible, keep fighting for her. I...I hope that she will eventually see the wrong doings of the Horde.”

Adora closed her eyes and enjoyed the solid feeling of Angella hugging her. Affection was a foreign thing in the Horde and showing emotions meant showing weakness.

It felt…nice being able to show all these things.

“Now, I think that’s enough tears for today. I’m sure Glimmer and Bow will be looking for you but I’ll make up an excuse. Don’t worry Adora. You…you have family here too.” Adora nodded and let go of Angella.

“Thank you your Majesty…I needed that.”

Angella smiled before producing a small box from her pocket and handing it to the blonde.

“Happy birthday Adora.”

The birthday girl opened the box and her breath caught in her throat. Inside the box was a gold plated badge with the colours of Brightmoon: light pink, lilac and a dark purple. In the middle of the badge was two gold angel wings.

“A...a badge?”

“It’s the seal of Brightmoon. Only the highest ranked Brightmoon guards wear them to show their loyalty to Etheria and only I am allowed to chose who wears them.”

Adora felt her mouth go dry.

“Your...your majesty this is too much. I’m already She ra! I…”

“Adora, you’ve proved your loyalty to the rebellion. You saved my daughter and were willing to risk everything you knew for Brightmoon. If that doesn’t show loyalty, I don’t know what does.”

Adora was quiet. The badge reminded her when she used to be Force Captain and wear the badge. She closed the box and handed it back to Angella.

“I’m sorry it just...it reminds me of the Horde. Force Captains all got badges and I was one of them. I think I still need to adjust to everything.”

Angella nodded and closed the box.

“I understand. But this badge is yours so whenever you feel like claiming it, just come see me.”

“Thank you,” Adora said in relief.

The last thing she wanted to do was look like she was insulting Brightmon by not accepting the badge.

“Your welcome. Now just relax and join us when you’re ready.”

Adora nodded before the queen walking back into the castle. She turned to face the setting sun once more and watched the golden yellows and pinks merge with the navy blues and purples.

“I really do wish you were here Catra. I…I hope maybe someday we can spend my birthday together.”

Adora inhaled and exhaled, feeling better.

She took one last look at the Whispering Woods and turned around and walked back to the throne room.

************************

Somewhere in the Fright Zone, Catra felt her heart hurt and she quickly placed her hand on her chest.

“Ow…” she mumbled and Scorpia looked up from their battle plans.

“You okay, Catra?”

“Yeah…I’m okay. I just need some air.”

Catra made her way up to the highest point in the Horde, where she and Adora used to hang out after training.

When they were much younger, Adora made a joke that if she was sad, Catra would feel her sadness because their hearts would hurt. Adora claimed that only the best of friends could feel it. Catra hadn't believed her but smiled at the statement.

That was impossible. You couldn’t feel someone else’s sadness though their heart hurting…right?

There was only a sliver of gold in the sky left before the dark navy sky ate it up and the sky was lit with stars.

“I remember watching the stars with you…” the feline whispered and she felt her eyes get watery.

Catra allowed herself to cry. She was thankful to be alone.

She couldn’t risk anyone seeing her, Force Captain Catra, crying over a traitor, let alone showing weakness.

But it did make her feel better and she swallowed uneasily as she collected her emotions together.

“I...I miss you too Adora,” she whispered, looking up at the sky, tempted to wish Adora to be with her again.

Instead, she built up her walls again and went back to the Horde, her feelings of sadness left to the night sky and the stars.

#catradora #one shot #vanilla107writes #vanilla107 writes #adorabirthday #spop #spop 2018 #angella #glimmer #bow

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waterstar2016 · 7 years ago

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I would love to see a drabble of each turtle regarding nesting. I have this theory that when they mate, their instincts strongly compel them to make a nest to attract/keep their mate. For example, maybe Mikey piles pillows and blankets on the bed or hides food everywhere. How would each turtle and S/O react? Would the turtles be embarrassed? Would the S/O be confused? Would you consider writing this? Thank you for all your writing thus far and for sharing it with us! You're fantastic!

What a neat idea! Thank you :) I wrote either attracting or keeping a mate depending on what popped up in my head for the guys. Hope you like it.

Hints at NSFW situations.

Leo:

Our leader in blue has decided that he wants you as his mate. He’s going to try to lure you into his abode, because he needs to show you what he’s made for you. If you approve, he will claim you. He will approach you formally. “Tenshi, come with me please? I would like to show you something.” Taking your hands firmly in his while keeping his eyes level with yours he will walk backwards through the lair, leading you. Leo knows you like no other, because he pays attention to you and notices the smallest detail. When you reach his room you will discover a new approach to his decor. You balance him, and he’s made sure that both yours and his personal likes are equally represented. The floor will be covered in hand woven grass mats, each painted (by him) with Japanese characters. Love, passion and tranquility are some of the representations that you will find.

If you love the colour green, there will be blue and green candles, or maybe even turquoise (representing the two of you coming together). Love the ocean? Expect sea shells spread in and amongst his Japanese collectables. If you enjoy reading there will be a comfortable chair with a reading lamp above it ready for you to curl up in. As for the bed, it is going to be a sumptuous masterpiece. Navy blue silk sheets await your naked flesh, while a beautiful comforter in your favourite colour is folded neatly at the bottom for nights that you get cold (he can keep you warm with just a sheet, but this is for when he’s on patrol). The pillows are soft and tempting, with more nearby in a basket. A mini fridge will hold bottles of water (I can’t see Leo eating in the place he sleeps, so no food) In this room, your every desire will be fulfilled (some of which you didn’t even know you had). Leo has made sure that you are going to want to spend a lot of time with him in there.

When you enter the room you raise your eyebrows in surprise. “So this is what you’ve been so secretive over?! You’d been wondering for weeks what was going on with him. “I love it!” Still holding your hands he will ask you if you accept what he’s made. All it takes is a nod. Blue eyes that were nervous are now sly.

Raph:

You and Raph haven’t been dating very long. Even though you’ve told him that you want to be with him, a wave of insecurity washes through him and he panics. He starts scavenging like crazy. The first thing he will do is make a bigger bed, after all he’s huge. He wants to make sure that there is enough room for all of the nightly (or anytime of the day your willing to let him) activities that will (hopefully) happen. Raph loves a high thread count for his sheets. We’re talking Egyptian cotton here. There will be a comforter on the bed, but he’s knitted a duvet for it. I visualize it made with a variegated yarn in the colours of the sunset. Matching decorative pillows will line the headboard. Just toss them off (or hell, use them to hold onto, lift your ass up or bite) when you and Raph decide to bump “naughty’s”. The headboard will be hand carved by him. He may act all tough but when he sees something beautiful he can appreciate it (like you). So I see a design with your favourite flowers and vines, maybe even hearts.

Raph will have a collection of your favourite music all ready to go on an iPod that Donnie fixed for him. While out looking for things he managed to find an old lava lamp. It’s now set up in a corner, the red coloured oil casting a romantic light in the room. If you have a hobby, say drawing, he will have an easel set up for you with a good lamp near it because he wants to watch you sketch. Raph, like Leo will have a mini fridge set up. It will be filled with your favourite foods. And, in case the mood strikes, chocolate covered strawberries. He read somewhere that they are supposed to be an aphrodisiac. The floor will be covered in thick pile rugs. One, he doesn’t want you to get cold. Two, you never know when the mood could strike and he ends up taking you on the floor.

“O Raph, you did this for me? Raph had finally shown you. He was a little embarrassed about this, but he couldn’t ignore his instincts anymore. Once you convinced him to talk to you about why he did it (because he was scared of losing you), at least one (probably more than one) of those nightly activities that he’s been fantasizing about for weeks was going to happen very soon (if not that night).

Donnie:

This guy is going to want to encourage you to keep coming back to him. He’s taken tons of notes on your personal preferences and has complied a database on you. With this information he will create a space that you will love. Some nights you’re hot and some you’re cold. Prepared for either situation, he will have an electric blanket (one that he modified so that it won’t catch on fire if you fall asleep with it on) and some lighter throws ready to go. There will be a body pillow for you to cuddle for when he’s on patrol. He’s made humidifier/dehumidifier that is preprogrammed to your personal preferences. Don’t worry, in case he misjudged, there will be a remote nearby.

On your nightstand will be a charging dock for all your electronic devices. Just place it on the black surface and a “Donnie” icon will flash when charging is complete. The lights, t.v, stereo, CD player, everything is controlled by a handheld, easy to use, universal remote (that he will excitedly show you how to use). He knows that you like falling asleep to white noise so he found a machine and programmed it with the sounds you normally listen to. There will be a love seat set up beside his desk (as a reminder for him to pay attention to you), with the pillow that you like to watch movies with in the corner. Area rugs will cover the floor and he will make sure that you have a pair of slippers for you so your feet won’t get cold. In a cupboard on the far wall are all of your favourite snacks with a chilled section for drinks.

You had been confused lately. Donnie was usually distracted with some project or another but whatever he had been doing lately was all encompassing. He was still affectionate with you, but you could feel that his mind was on something else. When he’d finally approached you, head down feet shuffling and told you what he’d done, you had run to his room to see. “Dove, wait for me!” He yelled. Opening the door you checked everything out. When Donnie came into the room you threw your arms around his neck and soundly kissed him. You didn’t come out for a full day (in your nightstand was a drawer filled with toys, some he had made just for you).

Mikey:

When you walked into the lair, Mikey was nowhere to be found. This surprised you. Normally you were greeted with a huge hug. Then you saw an orange rose, a few feet away an actual orange. After grabbing that you saw an orange frisbee. Smiling, you followed the trail that he had left for you. Arms full of various orange items you opened his bedroom door. The bed was now in the center of the room. It was round and piled high with blankets made of different kinds of fabrics and pillows or every shape and size. There was a hammock (big enough for two) strung up in the far corner, surrounded by orange coloured fairy lights. Beanbag chairs covered the floor and swag carpet finished off the look.

Matching his and her robes were hung on wall hooks and a set of bunny slippers were on the floor of your side of the bed. There was a shelf that was dedicated to all your favourite movies and video games. A full sized fridge was stocked with everything imaginable. Mikey had discovered that you loved Cream Soda, so cases of it rested on top of his Orange Crush. There was vanilla ice cream in the freezer for when you wanted a float (one of your favourite treats). Along with board games and cards Mikey also had a set of “special dice” that he kept in a black silk bag tied with orange ribbon (these ones were nine sided…one dice had actions and the other, body parts).

Mikey was so excited when you finally opened the door. You quickly got over your shock. Being with Mikey was so much fun that seeing him do something like this to encourage you to spend even more time with him just made you love him more.

#tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo

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