Hello to all my lovely catmoms and catdads and fellow cat lovers. This year 00kitties will be participating in @mi6-cafe‘s 007Fest!
He’s excited, Alphie’s already practicing his undercover spy face!
So for the month of July we will be hosting.......
Spy Kitty Saturdays!
Each week will have a theme based off of some of our favorite employees of Mi6.
During each week please post or sumbit cat pictures that fit that theme.
Each Saturday 00kitties will be full of all the 00kitties praticing their spy skills.
Please @00kitties or use the #00kitties if you post onto your blog so that we can find these wonderful pics
Name of cat must be in the description if it is a fandom kitty and fun captions are always appreciated
Themed Weeks
July 2nd- Bond.... James Bond
We want to see cats in stealth mode!
July 9th- the always gorgeous and ever quick witted Eve Moneypenny
We want to see all the sass, all the judgement, and all the class your kitties have to offer
July 16th- our favorite boffin- head geek in charge- Q
we want to see all the kitties and tech, whether the kitties are being helpful .... or not)
This all leads up to our Fandom Crossover Event with @inceptionkitties
more details to follow
Get your cameras and your kitties ready!
After all Cats truly are the forever fandom
This is the backstory I created for the sprite from the 2nd week of LDWS prompt:
It was created by a daydreaming admin who's computer was infested by chain-mail goblins but had a heart of gold and never got mad at the computer when things always went wrong
It kicked the goblins out and admin was so happy that the computer was functioning properly that she send a “thank you” email full of baby animals to IT
IT never understood what they did to get the email but they enjoyed the gratitude and email and from then on always worked on her requests first
The admin retired so it went to accounting by way of a budget email
It was disappointing to realized that Accounting treated their computers like crap
If you use don’t set up data correctly its not the programs fault that it reads the data wrong
so it corrupted enough data sets that the department had to rethink how it inputted its data
It knew that accounting was not its new home so it went through the network looking for anything interesting
It is attracted by the high network usage of a single department
There is also a well crafted program in place to monitor the electricity usage of said department and make sure no other networks are damaged or taken down accidentally
It hops on an email sent to the IP address of the computer that created said program
It was at first appalled by all the deconstructed tech that it found in the lab
About to wreck havoc it overhears a curly haired man (Q) talking to whatever was on his desk
"ahh there you are you little bugger, someone used the wrong fusing, that would never work, ill fix you so you are all better" and the sprite realized it had found a home
It sticks around Q branch to see if it is always this interesting and is not disappointed
It was around to see Q take the shit out of a agent who was careless to equipment and an ass to the junior engineers (including at this point Q)
It was confirmed that "this human is a good one"and so it sticks around and sees Q throughout his career
It also got really good at making the screen flash when Q was about to nod off so he noticed it and woke up without burning his hand on the soldering iron
To this day Q cannot quite figure our why he was looking at specifically the network security plans when he was supposed to be redesigning a gun that day of of the security breaches but he is forever thankful that he was
When Q branch is relocated to the tunnels it hops onto the emails going to Q’s phone and relocates as well
The tunnels are at first infested with all kinds of magical hooligans but it befriends the useful ones, hooks some up with departments that might be suited to their care and makes sure EVERYONE knows that Q branch, especially its brilliant new head, is under ITS protection
Apparently I keep coming back to Q and Bond surprising each other with gifts for their anniversary. Thanks again to @skylocked and @therealpigfarts23 for their help and encouragement:) This one takes place directly after (x) and is a precursor to (x). Basically Bond had just surprised Q for their anniversary by arriving home early and serenading him in bed with breakfast. The following is from Q’s point of view:
Q was confused, he blinked a few times to see if the world started making sense. There’s noise, a song maybe? But that can’t be right, no alarms have been triggered. The only people who can enter his flat are Bond and Moneypenny, and they both have individual codes. He would have been alerted regardless. Plus it’s too bloody early in the morning for visitors and Bond is still overseas. Right, oh, yes, he’s overseas, Q was in charge of his flights home. But that voice, that voice is familiar. Bloody hell! Where are his glasses?
Bond becomes a solid presence in the room when Q’s glasses are shoved into place, and Q’s tired brain can’t decide whether to cry from joy and pull James into bed, or make him turn around and come back in two days. Two Days! He was supposed to have two more full days to get the bothersome ink to work. Damn Boothroyd and his ideas for grandeur without working prototypes. Yes, it was easy enough to put a small explosive in a pen, anyone could do that, you could even put one on a button… But that wasn’t the point. If Q could make the pen have more functions other than the explosive, the surprise would be that much better.
As part of Q’s brain worked on formulating ways he could still finish his present in time for the ORIGINAL schedule, another part was just happy that his boyfriend was back, and in one piece for once! It had been only a recon mission, but Q knew better than to give that any credence for what shape Bond was going to return in. But here he was, in his bedroom, tripping no alarms, and he had food and… Bond was singing. Q blamed his sleep deprived brain, from working so damn hard on the bloody pen project, for how long it’s taken him to place the song. .
Q managed to grumble as he resisted the urge to pull Bond into bed, trousers and all.
“You can’t show up unscheduled and try to one up me with presents Bond. Some of us adhere to schedules, and don’t think for a minute that this means you will get your present earlier than planned.” Q scolded. “Oh good, I see you’ve showered before coming here. Take your trousers off and come join me. We have at least two more hours until we need to report to work, and what a ghastly hour it is to be awake!” Q patted the empty side of the bed signaling for Bond to join him. “Nice song choice.” He smiled sleepily.
Q reasoned that his pen engineering problem would still be there after some much needed kissing and cuddling so he might as well enjoy it. After all, a well rested happy brain was supposed to function better or some rubbish like that.
Oh wait! What if instead of trying to fit the cartridge he had, he designed a new ink that would fit his needs? Then he could define the cartridge.
Oh yes, Q reminded himself, engineering later, warm comfy boyfriend now. Q allowed Bond to stop kissing him just long enough for the agent to shuck the offending trousers and shirt off. Bond was his anniversary present after all, it would be silly to pass up this opportunity, especially for a problem that could be ignored for a few hours. Q was a caring boyfriend; the current priority was to make sure Bond was well aware how warmly his presence and singing and food were received. Cuddles and sleepy kisses exchanged under warm blankets before their duties at work called would do the job perfectly.
This stemmed from my trying to just make one playlist for “Q Branch” I made the mistake of asking my friends what their “focus” coding and work playlists were and the responses were so varied that it didn’t help narrow down a playlist but I did produce these headcanons:
Headphones are NOT allowed in the labs
Startled Q branch employees and unstable chemicals are not good combinations
This also lessons the probability of agents not being able to resist the temptation of a good startled Q branch employee
At the desk only one headphone is allowed in
Lessens change of startled employees
Still allows music to be used for focusing and getting stuff done
There is a hierarchy to who gets to pick communal music
Branch supervisors are allowed veto power
There are rotating schedules
Hierarchy does not necessarily follow branch power breakdowns
Mallory and Tanner have developed a list of music not allowed
Contrary to popular belief it does not contain anarchist punk music
Musical Soundtracks were outlawed
The productivity was being lowered universally due to reenactments of songs
The heated arguments that were a result of different opinions of stage actors gave Q a headache too many times to allow
Music was not allowed that was disrespectful to any employees
There was a Spotify account for Q branch employees at one point
It was less than two months before an software engineer created an add in that plugged into Spotify’s resources and kept legally paying for their account but increased capability for playlists and playing different playlists at once
You DO NOT delete someone elses
Its communal knowledge which playlists are NOT TO BE TOUCHED
There is an ever-expanding playlist that solely includes movie scores
This is by far the most listening to list
New movie scores keep being added all the time
The go to option for shared spaces is picking this playlist and putting it on shuffle
Contents: 00q, I suppose you could call this a mission fic but... it’s not. Not really. Transcript format, sort of
Warnings: INNUENDOS EVERYWHERE. Also, this is kind of an experiment in format again, let me know what you think.
Q: You need to get up, Double-Oh-Seven. They’re only a dozen meters behind you now.
007: I think I twisted my ankle, Q.
Q: Twisted?
007: Okay, maybe broken. I can’t put weight on it.
Q: Shit.
007: That was my assessment, too. Glad we can agree on something.
Q: Can you move at all?
[scuffling sounds]
007: I can hop. Or crawl. What do you suggest?
Q: I like you on your knees. There’s an access panel about two meters down on your right. Do you see it?
007: I’ll show you what I can do on my knees, you cheeky bastard. The panel is also a meter and a half off the ground.
Q: You didn’t say you broke your arms. And that was rather the point, darling. Can you reach it?
007: Yes, dear.
Q: Excellent. Then I suggest you pry it open and slip inside. Quickly, now. You have [soft beeps and keystrokes] three and a half minutes.
007: Hmm. Usually works better if I coax gently first. [rattling] Easier to get it open that way.
Q: Sometimes it takes a firmer hand.
007: Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?
Q: Sometimes that’s the only way, if it’s being stubborn.
007: You didn’t happen to put a screwdriver somewhere in this Walther, did you?
Q: I knew I forgot something.
[more rattling, louder this time
007: It won’t give.
Q: Did you try to charm it off? Usually works with most other things.
007: Only your pants. [more rattling] There. It’s open. Now what?
Q: You should see a row of switches to your left.
007: Got it.
Q: Shut them off. All of them.
[clicks, followed by a hiss and deceleration whirr]
007: It’s dark.
Q: Well, I know there’s a flashlight in your kit, or did you already throw that at someone?
007: Ha-bloody-ha. No, it’s here.
Q: Well, you’re not completely in the dark then, are you?
007: No, just mostly. Nothing new there. Now what?
Q: You’ll need to insert the device into the pinhole aperture array. Please tell me you didn’t lose the tie pin.
007: Oh, that was equipment? I thought it was just a gaudy accessory. I left it at the hotel.
Q: Ah. Well, I suppose we’ll have to scrap this mission, then. You’re on your own from here.
007: Well, damn. I was hoping for a first-class flight home. Plenty of room to stretch my legs.
Q: More’s the pity.
007: Any hole in particular?
Q: I thought we’d been over this? It doesn’t matter, as long as it fits.
007: Guess I’ll just have to keep trying until it does, then.
Q: That’s the fun part. Ninety seconds, by the way.
007: No pressure, Q.
Q: None applied, Double-Oh-Seven.
[several seconds of silence]
007: I’m in.
Q: Excellent. Power the switches back on and replace the panel.
007: Figured that part out for myself, ta.
Q: Should I be impressed?
007: It might help me feel useful.
Q: Good heavens, we can’t have that. I’m distinctly unimpressed, then. Once the power is back on, I can open the door to your left, which should lead to a staircase that goes to the roof. I can lock you in until the helicopter is in place. Are you ready?
007: And willing.
Q: I should hope so. On my mark.
Tanner leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over the top of his head, a gesture left over from when he actually had hair to run his fingers through, before a gaggle of immature double-oh agents had robbed him of it. (He’ll blame his job to his dying day, never mind that his maternal grandfather was bald at thirty.) How in hell was he supposed to submit a mission transcript like this to Mallory? How the hell was Mallory supposed to sign off on it? Tanner scrubbed his face with his hands.
He expected that kind of behavior from Bond, honestly, but he’d hoped Q would show a bit more professionalism. Then again, he was talking about a man who’d siphoned government funds to build a bloody exploding watch after being specifically told it was a waste of resources.
Tanner shook his head.
He slid the papers back into the manila folder, sighed, and tucked it under his arm as he stood.
On their own heads be it. If they wanted to behave like children, that was their business. The mission had been a success, and Q had successfully infiltrated their systems, so he supposed the technique wasn’t all that important.
He was going to enjoy watching Mallory’s face, though.
And with that thought tugging a smile into the corners of his mouth, he walked out of his office and up the stairs.
(I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Please don’t kill me.)
Contents: 00q, retirement!bond, a dog, Wales
Warnings: lethal amounts of fluff
This one’s kinda long, so I’m going to put it under a cut
The cabin is about two kilometers from Tregaron, and Q never expected to end up in Wales, but it made a perfect kind of sense in hindsight. He pulls up the drive and parks under the overhang next to the silver Aston Martin DB5. He smiles to himself as the memories burble to the surface: the day James drove them away from MI6 - neither one destined to return in any official capacity; the day James took him for another drive, the drive that brought them here to Tregaron seemingly at random, and the cottage they fell in love with at first sight.
No, he never imagined he’d be contented with this kind of life, or that James would either, but here they were, six years on after their impromptu departure from London, and neither one had the slightest desire for anything else.
He turns off his own vehicle - a much more practical electric coupe - and pops the boot to retrieve the shopping. Nellie comes running to greet him, the two-year-old Toller nearly bowling him over in her excitement.
“Yes, hello,” Q says. “James must be outside, yeah?” He shuffles toward the door, trying his best not to trip over Nellie, who’s barking animatedly and dashing off around the house toward the back garden. Q pictures James in among the tomatoes, a pile of weeds at his side and a self-satisfied grin on his face.
“Alright, alright, I’ll come see what you two have been up to, but I have to put the shopping down first.”
He’d been reluctant about adding the dog to their household. Four cats and the various woodland creatures that ventured near their cottage seemed more than enough, thanks, but James was very good at getting his own way, and Q was very bad at saying no.
It hadn’t been a complete disaster. Aside from the expected accidents, the only casualties of puppy-hood had been Q’s favorite pair of slippers and several bin liners.
Q sets the shopping down on the counter, and Nellie whines and scratches at the back door.
“Alright, alright,” Q says. He pushes open the back door and Nellie is off like a shot, tearing through the bushes at the edge of their back garden and racing into the woods behind the house.
“James?” Q calls, but there’s no answer.
Frowning, Q follows Nellie’s trajectory into the woods, stepping through the dappled light beyond the hedge. It always feels vaguely like he’s stepping into fairyland when he and James take walks here on sunny afternoons, but he’s never said so. It’s a silly, juvenile kind of thing and he knows James would laugh. Just because Q knows it’s silly, though, doesn’t mean he wants to be laughed at about it, and so he’s kept his bit of fancy to himself, quietly scanning the undergrowth for fairy rings or tiny gnomish doorways in the crooks of tree roots.
Nellie comes bounding back, tongue lolling from the side of her mouth.
“Where is he?” Q asks her, stooping to scratch behind her ears.
She gives a single bark, then bounces off again, back the way she came.
“I really ought to start working on that translator,” Q muses aloud. It had become something of a running joke, ever since they’d spent a lazy, rainy Saturday afternoon in front of the telly and Up had been on.
Q was convinced Nellie would sound like Dug, all bright exuberance curtailed by furry woodland creatures. The idea hadn’t faded, even though Q knew it was conceptually impossible, and it was at times like this that he really wished it could work.
Regardless, Q continues down the narrow trail worn through the trees by hundreds of years’ worth of deer, and more recently two men, several cats, and one very energetic dog. The trail opens up into a small clearing a few hundred meters along, and that’s where Q finds James, sitting on a blanket spread over the loam, a rattan picnic basket settled next to his hip, and Nellie with her front paws on his shoulders.
“Good girl,” James croons at her. “Good girl.” He takes her head between his hands and scratches behind her ears, and Nellie returns the favor by slobbering all over his face. James laughs, as does Q.
James looks up as he hears Q’s voice, and the crows feet at the corners of his eyes deepen as his lips slide up into a smile.
“I wondered where you’d got to,” Q chides fondly as he settles himself on the blanket next to his husband.
“Surprise,” James murmurs, pulling Q close and pressing a kiss to his neck.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Do I need one?”
“I suppose not, but there usually is one.”
“How about ‘I forgot exactly how this one little strip of skin behind your ear tasted.’”
James nibbles expertly at said strip of skin and Q shivers.
“I…,” Q sucks in a breath as James pulls his earlobe between firm lips, “I think I could go along with that.”
“Mmm.” James agrees as he lowers Q to the blanket.
********
The light between the trees slowly fades from bright yellow afternoon to the red-gold glow of evening. Q hums to himself as he folds the blanket, tucking it under his arm as James repacks the picnic basket. Nellie is snuffling around the edges of the clearing, ensuring that she knows what sorts of creatures have been venturing into her territory.
Satisfied, the three meander back down the deer trail toward the cottage, Nellie in the lead as usual.
James chuckles behind Q, and he turns, eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.
James reaches up and plucks something from the back of Q’s head and holds it out.
“There was a leaf in your hair,” he says simply, and the both of them sputter, the ridiculousness of their afternoon caught out in broad daylight.
“You ought to bring a bigger blanket next time, then,” Q says, grinning.
