#angel!q

[thenerdandthedove]

@idontkillorphans

x

“You’re welcome to try. But I’m not going anywhere.”

[thenerdandthedove]

@screwthejob

x

Looking at Dean when he opened his mouth to spit out the rude comment, Q frowned slightly. “Or I could leave your ungrateful arse? Do you want to get roasted alive? No? Then let me do my job.”

Grabbing Dean’s arm he flew them away from the fire and to a safe distance brushing off the ashes. “Better princess?”

[shipimpala]

So tired of the straight life and everywhere you turn there's vultures and thieves at your back the storm keeps on twisting you keep on building the lies that you make up for all that you lack it don't make no difference escaping one last time it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees x

James is an agent. Q is an angel. They fell in love.

- James. - You here...For God's sake, what are you doing here, kitten? - James. - You shouldn't be here. I'm not good person to you Q. - I think that you are actually perfect to me. Can I come in?

[shipimpala]

It's too cold outside For angels to fly An angel will die Covered in white Closed eye And hoping for a better life x

Q does not know who he is. One day he just wakes up in the street with blood on his back. Hungry and frozen. He begins to sell his body to survive. One day, he met James... (Bad day. I need angst... hooker!fallen angel!Q. Need story.)

- “How much?” - “I-I’m not...” - - - - For God's...Christ! Kid, are you alright? - Yes..Please, I-I...I'm okay. Please, just leave me alone... - It's december and you have only bloody shirt..and blood. Come on, can you get up? - Y'yes..Please... just leave me. - Get up, kid. I'm not leaving you on a street next to my house. In december. It's your blood, right? You need hospital? - No...No hospital...Please... - Bond. James Bond. I hope you like tea. - I.. - Just tea. And I'll know that you won't die on this street.

[quartermastersearlgrey]

kid meme : Mer-spence and Angel-Cris.

Name:  Reid Boothroyd

Gender:  Male

General Appearance:  Brown unruly hair, brown eyes, slight build.  Needs glasses at an early age

Personality:  Inquisitive and bright, Reid asks a ton of questions.  He is caring and loving, protective of those close to him.

Special Talents:  Takes after both his parents, being both a merman and a guardian angel (as the first born, Cris really had no doubt this would be the case).  He is the first person ever to possess both of those traits.

Who they like better:  Spencer.  Cris just isn’t fast enough when swimming and they often leave him behind when they race.  Plus, Spencer doesn’t have to vanish occasionally to take care of charges like Cris does.

Who they take after more:  Spencer.  He much prefers swimming to flying.

Personal Headcanon:  When Cris found out they were expecting a child (though neither of them were quite sure how that happened) he quit his job on land and moved to Spencer’s cave, deciding that his growing family was much more important than trying to keep his human roots.  However, he takes Reid to London once a month so that the boy understands human culture for when his wings grow in and he has to interact with humans on a regular basis.

[blauerkeks]

Happy (early or late, depending on your time zone) birthday! I hope you'll like it! xx xx "It's not your time yet", greeted him a soft voice in his ear, barely above a whisper, the soft echoing of bells and music all around him being carried by the air, "What are you doing here?" “And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.” There was the slightest gust of wind caused by wings fluttering, soft feathers under his fingers as he reached out and let his fingertips brush over them. The jump he couldn’t see but feel in the air made him smile, because as horrible this situation was, it reminded him of the times... Before. “I would have been in a few years”, the voice continued, dropping a bit, “But not now.” “We always knew that I’d be the one dying first.” The other huffed, air washing over James’ neck. He jumped and turned around, trying to see him, find him, but he was nothing but wind dancing around him in teasing beauty. “We were wrong.” “Yes”, James agreed, “We were.” Finally, as if he was tired of teasing, Q stepped out of his cloudy hideout and in front of James, his eyes filled with sadness and tears. He didn’t have his glasses, and his hair was as messy and fluffy as it was before. He had missed this sight, and couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle Q’s hair affectionate, happy to feel that they were just as soft and lovely as they used to be. He turned his head, looking around. “So this is heaven?” Q nodded. “One possible version.” At James’ confused glance, Q continued to explain, voice quiet and soft like the soft and tender caresses of a lover. “Apparently every person has their own heaven, their home or their biggest dream come true. Most don’t even know they died, because their lives just went on.” “Why are you here, then?”, James asked, reaching out to Q’s wings. The wing moved away from him, but after James looked hurt, Q let him. The feathers were soft under his fingers, and as he dug in between them softly to taste what was underneath, he felt Q give a shudder, and saw his face flush delicately in a shade of pink James had not seen in a while. It had been five months, two days and seven hours, if time was the same here. James had last kissed Q on his cold, blue lips, and to see them red, pouty and swollen again made heat rush through his veins and up to his brain; made him want to take Q into his arms and lay him down on the ground, so he could taste his skin again. Softly, he tucked on a wing, trailing up to his spine and to the next, enjoying white feathers soft like Q’s hair. The other leant into the touch, ending up in James’ arms. “Because my heaven couldn’t be complete.” James frowned. “Why?” Q looked up through wide eyes, smiling softly. They shone like emeralds, a bright beautiful green James found himself gasping at, because it had never been so intense before. It was heavenly. “Because you weren’t there. I could never be happy without you.” “So this is our heaven now?” Q drew away to turn around, looking at the tiny house in the middle of the field they were standing on. A few moments before, there had been bright, white light, and now he saw flowers, grass, everything colourful and beautiful, like he had always imagined it to be. He had only never thought that he’d be welcomed here. There only had been horror, pain, and loss in his life, he had killed and hurt and wounded. Why should there be a place in heaven for him? He had done nothing good in his life except for making women come, but he doubted that this counted as anything. If it counted, then only because it spoke of voluptuousness and lust, and if he remembered the short bible lessons of his past, then it was something god or whoever was in charge wasn’t fond of. “Yes”, Q hummed, wings fluttering behind his back, “Do you remember what we used to talk about?” “We wanted to move to the country.” Q nodded, turning around to James again, folding the wings behind his back with only the tips above his shoulders and above the ground. “We wanted to move away from everything. I wanted to play music for you all day and you wanted to shoot birds, writing and kissing me whenever you want.” “We wanted to grow old together there”, James took a step forward, finally understanding what Q was implying, “You look younger.” “The lines of worry and stress are gone.” Q lifted his hand, caressing James’ naked chest, fingers running down to his hips. James wore trousers, but nothing more, strangely. He had died in a suit. “Just as your scars are gone. Your wrinkles.” “Are they?” Q sighed. “I’ll miss them.” James chuckled softly and ruffled Q’s hair again, wrapping an arm around his waist. He felt warm skin underneath his hand, slipping under the white shirt his lover was wearing to find the smoothness he had dreamt about the last few months, drinking more and more to get rid of his guilt because he hadn’t been fast enough. “I’m sorry I let you alone for so long”, James muttered as he let Q turn around in his arms, leaning down to press a kiss on his neck tenderly, “But now we shall never be parted.” “I could have waited longer”, Q said softly, laying his head back to offer more. “Life is of no value without you.” “And heaven is lonely without you.” James looked up, smiling for a moment. He felt free, lighter, as if the weight of his past was gone. As if he was forgiven, and as if it didn’t matter. As if nothing but Q mattered here, in their paradise. “I missed you.” Instead of saying anything, Q leant up and kissed James, his lips warm and soft and everything James could wish for, because he was alive - more or less - and they were together. Q’s wings came to wrap themselves around James, and James’ covered them both in protection.

[blauerkeks]

Ohh the Supernatural gif set is cool. Would you write a fic for it?

Based on this photoset by the awesome shipimpala.I hope you don't mind I stole two lines from you, but it just fit.xxxxJames returned with so many wounds it was nearly impossible to count them.There was a bullet wound on his side, blood soaking the shirt red, fabric torn into pieces. There still was a tiny bit of his jacket left, hardly noticeable yet Q supposed it had to count as something.James' gun was missing, his knife was still there. It was an angel blade, capable of killing nearly every creature in existance, yet it hadn't been able to protect James from whatever had attacked him.Vampire? Werewolf? Demon? Whatever it had been, Q could sense it and he could feel it, see its spirit written across James' body in the physical form of scars and bruises, all visible to the human eye, and even more to Q's.It was the painful, most obvious sign that he had failed to protect his human and keep him away from any kind of danger, and the visible sign that Q had failed as an angel in total.He rushed over to the hunter's side just as James' legs gave in, grimacing in pain and coughing up blood, spilling onto Q's shirt and the carpet of their hotel room. Securely, Q lifted James into his arms, despise the hunter's protests of not treating him like a woman or damsel in distress.Q said nothing and just put James onto the bed, ripping his shirt off.Buttons flew everywhere onto the ground, quickly followed by what was left of the shirt and the jacket, James' tie looking grotesquely shred, almost as if by canine teeth.It smelled of acid, strangely, which made Q worry for his human's health and sake.James' trousers didn't seem to want to get off, and he had to fight against the belt before he pulled them down, searching for injuries on his legs, but it seemed that his attacker had only attacked his chest, torso and neck, and nothing else.Q's fingers brushed over the mark of fangs on James' neck, frowning deeply."Are you finished staring or are you trying to count the teeth?", James hissed at the touch, trying to squirm away but Q held him in place, using a hand to pin him down into the mattress, "Werewolves. At least four or five, but I lost count after they all leapt at me at once.""Are they dead?", Q asked, rubbing his palms together.James nodded, closing his eyes in the moment pain flashed over his face. He turned on his side and threw up enough blood to fill a bag or more, all red and disgusting, soaking the carpet.Q let out a long sigh, reached out and put two fingers against James' temple.The bruises and wounds disappeared within the blink of an eye. What had been shred flesh with bones and muscles visible underneath now was perfectly smooth and unmarked, except for the scars James had collected in his years before they had met.So many scars on human skin, almost like a painting, each telling a story Q knew, had witnessed and watched, unable to do anything against it.The marks of bullet wounds, all like spots on a map, pointing out the weak spots in an armour. Some scars caused by knives, pink or almost white thin lines on tanned skin. Q saw the scars caused by werewolves, demons, saw bones which had never properly healt.He saw the runes he wrote onto James' ribs, shortly after he got James' trust and managed to convince him that it was the wisest thing to do. The angels weren't hunting him, but Q didn't trust his brothers and sisters, and he would never make the mistake to underestimate any of them.Officially, he was a fallen angel. Inoffically he had betrayed heaven and chose to spend his life with a human, watch him fade away and turn into ashes with the breath of time blowing him away. Q would watch him turn old, watch his hair turn from blonde into silvery grey, and he would watch the wrinkles appear, scars go, all in the matter of a few decades.A lifetime for a human being, a blink for Q, the beat of an heart."Better?"James grunted and rolled on his side, putting a hand over his eyes to shield them from the light of the rising sun. Q stood up and went over to pull the blinders down, James' thanks another grunt, less painful.He looked so vulnerable laying there like that, his skin paler than usual and his muscles tense. Q couldn't imagine the pain he went through - couldn't feel pain himself, didn't know how it was to live in the fear of being shot and killed - and it hurt to see him like that.It hurt Q to an amount he didn't understand and made him gulp, gripping the bottle of whiskey far too tightly, nearly making it break apart.With all his power, all his grace and might, he couldn't keep his hunter from pain. He should have been there, or should have felt his pain and been there to protect him, but he hadn't.He had failed.It was an ugly feeling he wasn't used to, but feeling in general was something new, like a child taking its first steps only to fall down, and bruise. It was like learning to talk and breathe, like studying one's mistakes and looking back onto a span of mistakes, of failing and getting up only to fail again.Emotions were a tricky, wonderful thing he had envied the humans for so long for, but now, facing his own guilt and shame, he wanted to take it all back. His praying for emotions, for a tiny piece of humanity which he would have secured and saved, cherished and loved.He had been granted emotions, and a human company, and he was thankful, so incredibly thankful, yet he found himself looking back and regretting.There wasn't a button to turn it off.He couldn't ignore it and maybe he'd go mad with it. If he could do that, he wasn't entirely sure, how did going mad feel? James was sane, in Q's definition of sanity, so he couldn't ask him, nor could he ask anyone else because he didn't know anyone else.M would have known, maybe, but she was dead. The hunter had died in James' arms with her blood soaking his suit, and with her eyes falling closed. Q had been there. James didn't know it but he had been there, and he had watched, had cried with James and he had hugged him.James would never know. Q wouldn't tell him, M couldn't because she was dead, and she had only seen him in the moment of passing heaven's gates, for the brief moment she had been in between the worlds.She had smiled, maybe. It was hard to judge when a person never smiled, and it could have been faked, or a grimace of pain.His people skills were a bit rusty."Love?", James asked in exhaustion, voice barely above a whisper but Q could hear his emotional distress, see it in his face.Looking up from the almost empty bottle, his gaze found James', blue meeting green, tired meeting guilty.Q walked over to James and sat down onto the bed next to him, reaching out to put a hand on James' shoulder to gently push him back onto the bed again. He ran a hand through his short blonde hair, trying to sooth him and take the pain away. A bit of grace, one touch, and James relaxed again, tension leaking out of his body."Now sleep, my hunter, I'll take care of you", he mumbled, kissing James' forehead.The hunter's eyes fell closed, words dying on his lips as he fell asleep, and Q put his hand on the biggest scar amongst them all, caressing the redened, scarred flesh softly.He spread his fingers, his hand perfectly fitting the print he had left months ago.Resurrection, in its most literal sense, a man destined to die saved by the grace of an angel, pulled out of the depth of hell.Q couldn't regret his decision, looking down onto the human sleeping in their bed, chest rising and sinking. He couldn't be arsed to.He stood up and went to James' uninjured side, curling into him, arms wrapped around his own slender frame - his vessel's body. Q closed his eyes, trying to find some rest.

[blauerkeks]

Hello, you lovely and fantastic writer! Hope you're still taking 00q prompts. Here's mine: the late M was 007's guardian angel. Knowing she was to be discharged soon, she asked to personally oversee James' new angel, the young Q. Have fun and thank you!

"He's so broken", Q mumbled quietly, folding his hands in his lap, "His soul is crying."

"If you can call that a soul, tiny chick."

Q settled back in his chair, crossing his legs, playing with the collar of his cardigan. Simple, yet beautiful. He liked the way it was soft, yet appropriate clothes for the working environment his superiors had put him in now. It wasn't a suit like James Bond wore, but Q had never understood the humans' ways of distinguishing between two pieces of fabric only because they were cut in a different way.

Suits, shirts, ties, bowties, trousers, pants, jeans, different styles in those categories, everything highly confusing for a young chick like Q was.

In human years, he would be older than humanity itself. He had seen wars, had seen centuries pass in the blink of an eye, had seen the Empire fall, built itself again, he had seen kings pass away and their sons take over, cutting each others' head off in a matter of seconds for nothing but a throne they'd loose after death again.

Humans were, an angel had once told him, strange creatures, but they tried. They learnt, they adapted, they used their natural disadvantages to build something beautiful. They loved, they hated, they cried, laughed, screamed, giggled, snorted, huffed, grunted or moaned, each sound showing another emotion, and even though it was the same as noises and it only was making a sense to the people was because they had been trained to understand it, they had developed so many languages.

He was currently learning Chinese, which was an interesting choice right after Japanese, but he thought he could as well study the basis and the main influence on the language before starting with Swedish.

Languages were a wonderful invention, very interesting to learn, a tiny bit challenging, just like learning how to use a computer or build a gun from the scrap.

"It is shining, and its light comes from his heart. If it isn't a soul, what then?", Q turned his head to the other angel, his wings fluttering in irritation.

Hers, larger than his would ever be, dark grey, with a span wider than every human room was, strong enough to carry several humans at once and with a beauty known across the whole world, pictures of her in male form painted on the walls, her stories told in tale after tale.

Q still didn't know why he was the one she chose as double-oh-seven's new guardian angel, nor why she trained him on her own.

Everyone else was down there already, working, slowly entering their mark's life and making sure they did the best they could. There was something about James Bond, however, something which made the angel's wings flutter lightly, causing a gust of wind to push away a bit of fog around them.

M made a gesture with her hand, fire burning in front of his eyes, screams echoing in his head. The picture faded again, and they were on earth, in her office.

Her wings still were there, but she had them folded behind her back, and he drew his own in to copy her body posture. She nodded, her version of a praise.

"James Bond is a broken man, Q, no one you could ever fix. I tried, I failed, I gave up. The pieces of his soul, of his beautiful light soul, are all over the world, part of it on the bottom of a lake, some of it broken. He ripped half of it out on his own."

Q titled his head, rubbing his palms together. "You were his guardian his whole life, M, why not anymore?"

The elder angel gave a sigh, standing up and turning around to face London, a shadow falling onto her face, wrinkled and so painfully human, Q wanted to reach out and make it better. Whatever had caused her to fall apart, her vessle and her grace, everything so...

Haunted.

Suffering.

It was hard to tell what it was, but something told him she was suffering just like James Bond, hiding in a house at the beach, drinking, fucking, doing his best to drown the memories of what had happened.

Q wasn't his guardian yet, and while he would be soon enough, he didn't know why he cared. It was the best to remain professional, and to keep his distance. Normally he would be a shadow, and not an actual person in the mark's life, but M had chosen this as her life, and he would follow her steps.

She was the light of the sun, and he the moon following her earth, keeping it safe and secure.

"This man has gone through so much", M continued instead of answering his question, her wings unfolding, spreading to their full width, "Yet he keeps on going."

"Loyality", Q immediately said, "A patriotic bastard at the bottom of his heart, clinging onto the thought of a noble England like it is the only thing keeping him from going insane."

M shook her head. Q frowned.

"He knows England isn't noble. He has seen too much for a human, more than a human soul could ever manage to process and accept, to leave behind. This man, Q, isn't one of the agents you have seen and watched so far. He is more, and the more he takes the less he becomes."

The young angel nodded and made a mental note to that, resting his hands on the armrests of his chair. It was comfortable, for a human one, his vessel at least considered it as decent enough. A strange choice of words.

"He'll drive you insane."

M's voice was fond, almost. Her usual cold intonation gone, and her grace shining brightly. Q couldn't see her face, but he thought that she might be smiling, or at least as close to this display of affection as she was capable of.

Curiously, Q leant forward to listen.

"He is an arse, a prick and the most suicidal idiot I have ever seen. He'll drive you up the wall and whenever you see another angel guarding an agent you pass, you'll envy them." M paused. "But on the other hand you'll pity them, because they never got to see the man James Bond is."

"He's an agent", Q started, titling his head, "A killer."

"He's human."

"Arrogant."

"Broken."

"Heartless."

"Caring."

Q raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

She turned around to him, looking at him through her intense, hard eyes. "Caring. He cares too much, and drowns his pity and guilt in alcohol."

"Alcoholic." Q nodded. "Abusive of medicamentation, and unable to form a relationship."

"That's not true." M shook her head. "It only takes him longer. Have you been assigned to a human before?"

"No." Q shook his head, and his dark-brown wings fluttered, spreading for a moment to work against his sore muscles.

"He is smart, intelligent, and arrogant, yes, but he is a fighter. A survivor. Destiny spits into his face and he stands up, pushes destiny into its face and shoots through its skull."

Q had to smile, toying with a button on his shirt. The fabric was soft, white, clean. It reminded him of the wings of the higher angels, the ones in charge. Sometimes they were black, but it depended on the person.

He had seen blue wings before, or yellow, and the angels had have blue and yellow hair.

"He fights. I'm afraid in the end, he won't win, and he'll fall."

There was something palpable in the air, some kind of knowledge Q didn't possess, cold and hot at the same time. A shiver ran down his spine and he folded his wings behind his back, tempted to curl the primaries around himself for protection.

Instead, practising his persona, he pushed his glasses up his nose, face blank. "You know something, don't you? Is it how you plan on leaving him? To fall?"

For a moment, M smiled and shook her head, lifting her hand to make a swiping gesture with it. The office faded, they were back where they had started, right above Bond, watching him.

Q stared at the human in fascination, Bond's piercing blue eyes fixed on the blue ocean.

And his soul, shining bright in the darkness of the night, pieces missing, wounds and scars covering it, making it appear as if it was falling apart.

He was determined to hold him together, to make him work.

"Not I will fall, Q", M interrupted his thoughts, looking at Bond with a cold face, "Skyfall is where we start, young chick, days will be dark."

Q only stared at her, trying to make sense of her words.

After Skyfall, he understood. He wished he didn't.