Even though they can't see each other, they like to think that the other is present amongst the festivities.
Lyra
She comes across the decorative daggers quite by accident and finds herself buying them almost immediately. The strangest things reminds her of Will nowadays, a pair of china dolls, a rough leather-bound journal, palm leaves, a soft brown jacket whose colors seem to shift under the light.
Pan doesn't say anything as she wraps the gift. She knows he's thinking of Will's daemon. She slips a card beneath the ribbons before she places it gently beneath her bed. (Will would appreciate the gift. She'll take it to her to the bench the next time she goes. Will might never see the gift, but this way she can pretend he knows about its existence. )
Will
The square is crowded with people as they eagerly watch the giant clock striking down the minutes until midnight. His girlfriend is almost vibrating with excitement next to him. He grins wryly at the sight of her, "I can't believe you're this excited when it's this cold outside."
"Oh come off it. It's New Year's and it's not that cold when we're in the middle of a crowd of this many people." She's not Lyra. She never will be, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't care for her despite this fact. How she fills the hole that Lyra left behind when they last saw each other. (He thinks that Lyra would be happy for him. Happy to see that he's happy, even if he's not happy with her.)
The countdown begins almost seconds later. He thinks he can see Lyra smiling at him out of the corner of his eye when he leans in to kiss his girlfriend when the minute hand turns to twelve. (He hopes that wherever Lyra is, she is happy too.)
At the cusp of the new year, Merlin tries to replace the dark memories of the past with hopes of the future.
He's at the lake again. It's almost midnight, and it's freezing cold outside. He's the only one here.
A stray car drives by beyond the copse of trees that separates the lake from the road. He imagines the sound of gentle waves lapping at the shore to fill the silence that follows despite the waters of the lake having long frozen.
He opens his mouth to call- he doesn't know. He shuts his mouth and stares at the ice still waters of the lake. He doesn't know if Freya still lives within the lake, if the magic that supports her existence is still here when all the other magics had long ago faded into the earth. As for Arthur- he shivers at the thought of Arthur.
Arthur's awake, reborn, and he isn't sure whether or not to be happy about the fact. He contemplates the existence of his king in silence over the icy surface of a formerly magical lake. A king who was probably wondering where he was and why he wasn't in his arms upon waking.
He can't help but feel wrong for being happy. Arthur is here for a reason, he has long ago stopped believing that Arthur existed for solely his happiness. How could he when wars came and went and the desperation for him to return only grew? He can't-
He feels warm arms pull him into a strong chest and the tears begin to fall at the movement. "It's okay Merlin, it's okay. I'm here. I'm not going away."
"-but you're not- you can't- you're going to-"
"Shh Merlin, I'm here. It'll be fine. I promise."
He closes his eyes and lets himself be held. (He know that it won't be okay.)
He's at the MI6 holiday party. He isn't sure why he's here or even why MI6 would have a holiday party.
He's at the MI6 holiday party. He isn't sure why he's here or even why MI6 would have a holiday party. As an intelligence organization, he finds it somewhat silly that there would be a holiday party. Most of the agents are abroad on assignments, and their handlers are gone with them. A few technicians and Q-branch members mill about and socialize with each other, the ones that aren't furiously working on last minute projects or doing whatever it is that they normally do when there isn't a holiday party about.
He eyes the crowd in a somewhat distasteful manner, he's sure there's a secret purpose to the gathering, possibly to show whoever it is that's funding them that they're charming and psychologically stable enough to receive more funding. As the head of the Q-branch he's probably expected to socialize a bit and make nice with certain important people. As himself, he's probably going to leave in another minute or so. Let the important people wonder about the identity of the mysterious head of Q-branch. He's sure he's not very important in the long run of things anyway.
He bumps into someone as he turns around to leave and he swears as he reaches up to his glasses which have slipped off his nose during impact. "Q? Fancy seeing you here."
He glares lightly up at the speaker. Of all the agents to have- he makes a somewhat pleasant smile. "007. A pleasure. I can only presume the mission to Costa Rica went well if I'm seeing you here?"
007 smiles wryly back. "And the reason for you being here and not holed up in Q-branch would be...?"
"Because I'm expected to make an appearance. Why else?"
"Why else indeed." He isn't prepared for the kiss he receives next, for how 007 pulls him close to him like something precious. All he can think is that he isn't a mark when 007 pulls away with a knowing smirk. "Mistletoe," he says by way of explanation. Q looks up and scowls at the sight of the white berries that are indeed hanging from the ceiling above their heads. "I couldn't not. Merry Christmas Q, I'll see you around."
He stares after 007 after he pulls away and swans off to wherever it is he usually swans off. "Merry Christmas 007." He had a feeling he'd be seeing a lot more of the agent soon.
Two seers converse about the future on the eve of the new year.
"Can I have a glass of whatever you're having?"
The woman squints into the darkness as the voice interrupts her musing. The tension melts away when he realizes she knows the speaker. "You're too young. Maybe next year."
The speaker snorts and shakes his head before turning back towards the crowds underneath the bars of the balcony. "You say that every year, and I'm old enough to drink now."
"Just because you're old enough to drink doesn't mean you have to, and the answer is still no." There's quietness between them as they watch the crowds and the joyous sounds of celebration.
"You could have brought him you know? Fujiwara-san? He wanted to come. He wouldn't have said no if you asked."
There's a certain implication in the boy's (he's a man now, but to her he's still a little boy) words and she gulps the thoughts down with wine. "It's not fated to happen. It wouldn't have ended happily if-" She hesitated for a moment as she tried to think of the right words. "-thing continued as they did."
The boy shook his head and looked down at the crowds. "Yeah, it wouldn't have." A cold breeze blew past them. They didn't need to speak to know what the other thought, to know what the other knew. The pair watched the crowds for a moment longer. "It wouldn't have hurt to try. Look at the people down there celebrating the new year. They might not know what will happen in their future, but they're not afraid to try new things anyway. There's no reason we can't be like them."
There's a wry smile on her face. "If that were the case, then I'm sure you would have found a significant other by now and a wedding would be slated for the near future." There's a dry bark of laugh in response, and she continued, "seeing as there isn't one, however, I can only presume that you're single for the same reason I am." Silence. "The people down there are happy for the same reason we aren't. The future haunts people, and we aren't meant to see it. Whatever happens in the meantime won't deter it. Things that are meant to happen will find a way to happen." A pause and she turns to head back inside. "Don't stay out too late. You'll catch a cold."
"Happy new year."
She pauses on the doorway. "Happy new year to you too." The glass door slams shut behind her.
Pairing: 00q (preslash? slash? I'm terrible at this pairing)
Summary:
The minutes before the mission begins and before it all goes to hell.
Eve.
When she arrives at the office there's a thick manila folder of papers on her desk. The folder itself is unmarked. A yellow sticky note on top with the words 'important information about next mission' is all description she gets about the contents. She narrows her eyes as she opens the folder, a detailed dossier on the target. A quick glance through is all that she needs to know what this mission is about.
It's all the news will talk about these days. The missing warlock who disappeared on a goodwill mission to Aguo. A missing warlock that the Aguoan authorities either refuse to or cannot produce. Either way it speaks of tense relations between two countries at best and outright war at worst.
She flips through the rest of the contents, information about the Grand Warlock's last reported sightings in the country and an itinerary produced by some personal assistant or other responsible for the trip. The mission starts tomorrow, and 007 is responsible for the retrieval.
She's opening the door to M's office before she even realizes it. "I can't allow it sir. 007 isn't ready for this mission, he's barely recovered from the last mission and as a magic-neutral individual, he isn't prepared for the dangers he might face."
M sighs and rubs his forehead, almost as if he foresaw her reaction to the assignment, "which might just be our best bet for retrieving the target. They'll probably be expecting a fairly competent magical agent and therefore won't be prepared for a magic-neutral one."
She pressed her lips into a thin line. "And what about the Aguoan's IntentionTech sir? Both you and I know that Bond's barely managed to pass his psych evaluations, heaven knows how he'll manage to get past their thought detectors."
M smiled wryly in response. "Well, let's hope that our dear quartermaster will have developed the solution for that."
---
Q.
He's cursing lightly as he paces in the room. There's less than forty eight hours until the mission begins, the prototype's barely been tested and worst of all he has not seen a hair of the agent that has been supposedly assigned to the mission. This of course means he hasn't been able to arrange meetings to test the fit of the prototype and whether or not it would align with the brain signals of the person who can use it and- he snaps when he hears the knock on the door, "is it important or can it wait for a bit?"
Of course it's James bloody Bond whose waiting outside the door with a steaming mug of what he hopes to be earl grey, a bemused expression on his face. "I brought tea. Mind telling me why your minions are cowering under their desks now?"
He scowled and walked behind the prototype, a near-invisible set of mesh and sensors designed to block incoming thought probers, whatever those might be. A literal hell to design and a near miracle that it managed to work without exploding into a shower of sparks. "Leave the tea here, and while you're at it would you mind informing me where the agent assigned to this mission would be? At the very least I'd like to make sure he, or she, has had mind-" He stopped when he caught sight of Bond's slightly sheepish look as he placed the mug of tea on the table between them. "-oh no."
"To be fair," Bond started. "I wasn't aware that I would be on this mission until recently either." He stared at the prototype that Q had made. "I suppose that this is what's going to get me past security? ... Q?"
He stared at Bond, at the fuzzy image of Bond from a dream only half remembered. His throat felt dry when he spoke. "You're going to die."
I really like the christmas cheer one :) thank you so much :) (ps I sent you the next two parts in case you want to read them, but there isn’t a rush because I haven’t exactly started the next one yet)
Yeah I saw them in my e-mail, haven't gotten around to reading them yet because I'm working on something else but I should have a review/response/something up later today after class :)
it’s crappy right now and I should be writing the other one currently, but I’m trying to procrastinate on everything (oops) mind you, the christmas one needs a name, because that’s just called ‘25’ right now
Q is being a bit of a Scrooge in that fic, maybe you could use Tiny Tim's catch phrase? "God bless us, every one." Or maybe "a bit of Christmas cheer never hurt anyone (except for maybe Q)". It's a bit long but it fits with the theme of the story.
It's crowded and he can't see anything. A laugh and a familiar mess of hair draws his attention to a pair sitting off to his side.
AN: For husky's birthday. Happy birthday and I hope your day turns out better than the guy in the MC's vision.
It's crowded and he can't see anything. A laugh and a familiar mess of hair draws his attention to a pair sitting off to his side. "Oh wow and I thought my co-workers are bad, hate to be around yours," Kita, the leaner man sitting to the right, says before taking a sip of whatever it is in the white mug he's wrapped his hands around. (It's probably coffee, he thinks to himself privately, his uncle had always had an affinity for the caffeine rich drink. A result of early mornings and late nights spent at the hospital no doubt.)
"Mmm yes, my companions tend to be ... far too trigger happy when they get emotional. I assume that yours don't tend to make mistakes that affect many people?" He frowns to himself and tries to get a better look at the man that Kita is speaking with. He doesn't recognize him, not from his uncle's workplace nor from any colleagues he has chanced to see so far. A stranger? Who though, and how long in the future is this supposed to happen?
The smile slips off his uncle's face as he looks pensively down at the cup, he ignores the conversation in favor of looking around his surroundings. It's warm, trees and plants dot the pedestrian walkway where he's standing, and the buildings are in a colorful colonial style with shuttered windows. He tries to think of places, warm with a obvious European presence, that they could be when he's interrupted by the sound of plates being placed on a table. His uncle's table.
Kita grins when he notices the plates of food and turns to thank the waiter before digging into his. His 'friend' watches him as he eats, almost as if to be sure he's eaten it, and he narrows his eyes. Whoever this man is, he can't be trusted. He wants to say something, even shouts his uncle's name to get his attention, but this is merely a vision of things to come and incorporeal echos of the past don't actually have a presence in the future.
His uncle's 'friend' turns to his plate and says something that he can't make out a moment later. Kita looks up at his companion, almost as if he didn't understand what was said or he couldn't believe what was said. There's a scuffle nearby and a loud murmur bubbles from the crowd as there's some sort of disturbance that's getting closer and closer and- the sound of a gunshot makes him wake up in cold sweat.
The reality of the vision chills him even further. He had dreamed his uncle's death, and he didn't know how to prevent it from happening. (He wasn't sure if he could even prevent it from happening. )
He’s pretty sure that his visions weren’t supposed to be like this.
The first thing he’s aware of is the heat. It’s not an oppressive warmth like burning. It’s sweaty and passionate and he feels mortified when he hears a groan from beneath him. “Mmm yes, just like that.”
It’s (un)fortunate that this isn’t just a normal dream, otherwise he would have stopped there out of sheer embarrassment. His (future) dream self continues his ministrations gasping as a reaction to the heat and the sensations and- he feels himself flush and has the desire to squeak and hide somewhere.
(He would close his eyes if he could, he’s not sure whether or not he’s thankful that he’s not viewing this from outside his body. On one hand he wouldn’t have to look at this and could find clues add to the purpose of this vision. On the other-)
He takes advantage of a momentary lapse in the “action” to try to identify the person beneath him. He’s a man, and he does not recognize him at all. He frowns and traces the unknown man’s face with his eyes, subconsciously repeating the action in his vision. The unknown man beneath him smirks, “something wrong? You were doing so well too.”
"Maybe I just like the sight of you like this. Naked beneath me and completely undone. What do you think the public would think if they could see you like this, you’re usually so put together too." He feels himself flush even deeper at his (future) dream self's words. When he thinks of his future, he does not think of fucking someone who was well known to the public in- he isn't sure where they were actually. The bed didn’t seem to be his anyways and he couldn't get a good enough look of the room to determine a general location.
"They’d be jealous that they don’t have an attractive man such add yourself fucking them," the man purrs lowly. "I’m used to nothing but the best after all, shame that they choose to hide you where they did. If you weren’t given your assignment, I wouldn’t have met you and I would definitely regret not being with a fine specimen such as yourself." He pauses at the word assignment. Either he’s been tailing this guy and failed spectacularly at remaining hidden or he’s been assigned to babysit this guy. It occurs to him that he could be the proverbial honeypot to draw the man in, but he doesn't get assigned missions like that. (For all he likes to brag about his job, he’s primarily an analyst that occasionally gets let out of his cage.) Neither of the possibilities sit well with him.
His (future) dream self smirks at the comment, obviously pacified, and leans down to kiss the man, sensually at first and then more passionate as hands start to roam lower across warm skin. He huffs and tries to ignore everything, the sounds, the feelings. He gulps as he realizes the vision is causing telling physiological changes. He wonders if he’s the first to get turned on by a vision. There’s the faint sound of a cell phone nearby as his (future) dream self starts to press open mouthed kisses to the man’s neck. Neither of the pair reacts and he curses that he can’t turn his head to see whose calling,trapped in this body as he is. The two are too wrapped up in each other and they don’t care about the stupid cell phone that’s all that he can hear. It’s annoying and it’s important somehow, if only he could find out who it was…
The generic sound of the phone follows him as the vision fades and his subconscious takes over. It is all but forgotten when he wakes in the morning.
You do realise both Timothy Dalton and Daniel Craig played Lord Asriel, right? (because there's about 10 actors in Britain) Also: Timothy Dalton's production cast also included Ben Whishaw. In order to muck things up further :)
Yes it did, and that's mainly why I want to write Asriel as Bond. It's too interesting of a connection not to explore further.
I didn't know about the Whishaw connection though. Do you know who he played in that production?
While I'm on the subject of children's book series, your icon makes me think of the Guardians of Ga'hoole.
Bond was one of those people, who just knew. He had taught himself how to know as he came to need it. To be able to look into someones eyes and know if they could pull that trigger. To study all the changing lines in someone’s face as they speak, and know if they’re lying or not. To be able to tell the difference between hatred and desire.
So he could take it when Q turned down his dinner invitations and kept their conversations quick and to the point. He could take a step back and wait.
I'd leave a review in your ask if your ask was open. As it is, I'll bite and leave you a review via reblogging.
It's nice and sweet and to the point. The third sentence: 'he had taught himself to know as he came to need it' felt a bit awkwardly phrased to me? I get that you're trying to keep the theme of 'knowing' through the passage but it took a while for my brain to unpack the statement. (Because it seems like Bond's observing things and not looking at a person and immediately knowing everything about them because he's read a report on them or something of that manner. ) Besides that one little quirk, I liked your descriptions and I like the drabble. Good job. :)
Title: The Ten Percent
Rating: PG
Pairing: 00q
Summary: They expected a white male between the ages of 20 to 25. She was always good at hiding.
Dedicated to all the female programmers in the world.
It was a fundamental truth that there were barely any women in the computer science field. The classes in college were filled with men. White men, Indian men, Asian men. There were few women in the class. ( As a woman she would have stood out amongst her classmates, would have been easily picked out amongst a crowd. )
Q clenched her mug tightly when she felt her hand reach back towards her hair. Her hair wasn't long enough to get into her eyes. There was nothing to tie it back with. (In all records, she had died out at sea with her siblings. Their bodies were never found.)
She sighed and brought the mug of tea to her lips, before settling it down and shifting her glasses upwards. (She didn't need them, but the glasses pulled off the young computer genius ensemble rather well. She was nothing if good at hiding in plain sight. )
The ciphered text on her screen stared blankly back at her. It wasn't something she had seen before (although it didn't mean that she wouldn't crack it sooner or later), and for some reason she couldn't concentrate enough to crack it. She tensed when she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approach her 'lair'. "I never thought I'd see the day when the infamous Q would meet his match." She relaxed and ignored the jibe.
"Is there a reason you're here 007? Something you needed to return perhaps?" Silence as she typed a few commands, looking for any patterns and tracking their frequency. Values shifted around on the screen, but no matches appeared.
"Hmm, about that-"
"-unfortunately I simply cannot fine you for misplaced equipment, but neither do you need the latest in gadgetry for your missions now do you?" Q looked up from the screen at Bond, her face carefully crafted into a blank expression. "What do you have for me 007? I'm not paid to entertain you when you're bored, and as you should be able to see, I'm quite busy at the moment."
Bright blue eyes stared into deep green ones for a moment before a smirk appeared on the agent's face. "Well, by all means then, please carry on with what you're doing. I didn't mean to distract you from your work at all." She smirked in response and looked back to the screen and typed in a few more commands. If only it were as simple as that. There was a clank of something heavy followed by a few more lighter thumps. She tallied the noises in her head. Gun, camera, flash drive, secure phone with a few lovely extras, and one other thing. The one other thing was not what she expected it to be. "Is it really necessary to turn in the gun though? It's encoded to my palm print and I don't think-"
"-with your propensity to lose equipment on the field that by all estimates you shouldn't, I'd be worried that you'd accidentally misplaced it in your flat, or on the tube if you'd ever actually used it." She picked up the hard drive and stared blankly at the agent. "Is this supposed to be an apology for the radio you conveniently lost? I do hope that it's worth enough to cover the cost of development."
007 grinned cheekily back. "When it contains a list of contacts and communication between members of a possible terrorist organization? Why I would hope so as well." She grunted and looked over the rest of the equipment. The gun was a bit scuffed up and looked as though something had mauled at the barrel, there were scratches on the casing of the flash drive, the screen on the phone was cracked (she made notes to get a better screen protector) with scratches on the casing, and the camera seemed mostly put together but she wouldn't be surprised to find if it had undergone water damage or similar.
"Hmph, well I suppose I should commend you on getting most of your equipment back, plus one extra. The shape leaves much to be desired though, especially when I know for a fact that the other double-O agents don't have an issue getting their equipment back in tact-"
"You've handled many of them then?" There was a note in his voice that she choose to ignore.
"-Would you like a gold star for doing what every other agent seems to be able to do without a problem then? Or a promise of a reward for being able to repeat this accomplishment five times in a row." If she could possibly get the agent to repeat this remarkable accomplishment, then let it be known that she would do anything to make it happen.
"If that reward meant going out on a date with you, then I'd be more than happy to." She quirked her lips into a half-smile. There were some reservations to the list of things she would do of course.
"I see." Q looked back to her screen. "I tend to be very busy so I'm not sure that we could work out a time for a date-"
"-I wouldn't say no to having lunch. Not as a date, but as work colleagues."
She looked back towards 007 with a quirked eyebrow. "Good-bye 007, I'm otherwise occupied at the moment and can't be bothered to put up with you right now." Silence followed by the sound of footsteps. The cipher was decrypted at the same the door to her office slammed shut.
Taking guesses as to Q's true identity. This is a crossover, but perhaps not what you were thinking.
Look at the navigation bar. It probably says something like:
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or
www.tumblr.com/search/some-tag/recent
If you change the 'search' in the url to 'tagged' and get rid of the '/recent' at the end (if it's there) you'll get the old layout. (Or you could just simply click on a tag in a post instead of searching for it.)
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