#mi6cafewipwednesday

[thestalwartheart]

WIP Wednesday

This morning I've been fucking around with a continuation of remember, remember. If you haven't read it, it's a fic where Q and Bond break up, chiefly because of Bond's enormous trust issues. Go read it! I'm very proud of it.

“We even talked to your Quartermaster,” said Blofeld. Bond’s heart thudded hard against his ribcage. “It was a very one-sided conversation. He was so sweetly loyal to you. Of course, you were nowhere to be seen. Off with your little bird. Lovely Madeleine. Lovely, lovely Madeleine.”

Bond took a step forward. His fingers itched to wrap themselves around Blofeld’s throat.

“Ah,” Blofeld laughed. “You thought he’d betrayed you.”

---

@mi6-cafe

#00q #wip wednesday #mi6cafewipwednesday

[luminiferocity]

WIP Wednesday

I've been slowly tinkering away at the next part, so here's a snippet of the next chapter of Let Me Count the Ways for @mi6-cafe WIP Wednesday

He lounges deep into the sofa and Bond splashes him a measure.

“What are you looking at?” Q asks, pointing to the tablet on Bond’s knee. “It better not be porn.”

“You have a problem with porn?”

“On my sofa, yes.”

“Well, I’m not. Not unless you count this,” Bond says with a low laugh, and swipes the screen a few times. He presents Q with his own photo – the one from after the film premiere where he’s suited, hair wild, bowtie loose about his neck.

“Oh, for- Come on now,” Q protests, flustered.

Continuing to laugh, Bond pinches the screen and his photo library presents as a mosaic. There are a lot of pictures of Mathilde, some with Madeleine and Bond in different combinations.

Q spies one he recognises from when Moneypenny was trying to get him to leave early – less late than usual – and join them for a curry. She’d sent him a selfie, Bond kissing her cheek, Tanner on the other side giving her bunny ears. There are more in the series that he hasn’t seen before, all silly, rounded off by a snap of Q trudging towards their table twenty minutes later.

He thinks of the landscapes beside Bond’s bed, and he’s glad Bond’s adding more memories, more faces, to his life.

#wip wednesday #james bond #quartermaster #00q #let me count the ways #my stuff #mi6cafewipwednesday

[mi6-cafe]

It’s WIP Wednesday!

Post a line or three from a current WIP, and then tag @mi6-cafe so we can find and reblog it!

OR you can reblog this post with your WIP excerpt!

All ships, fandoms, and WIPs are welcome.

#MI6CafeWIPWednesday

[aniron48]

It's WIP Wednesday!

This Wednesday, I have an excerpt from the next chapter of smoke gets in your eyes, the FTH fic I'm writing for the wonderful @anyawen. In this chapter, everything is definitely totally fine and nothing is going off the rails whatsoever.* Final chapter to include Phillip desperately trying to change the subject, Benoit struggling with some Big Reveals, and the exact nature of the trouble Benjamin is in becoming clear. Stay tuned!

“This could have been avoided if you’d simply sent me a wedding announcement, Blanc,” Benjamin said, taking a sip of gin fizz. Somehow they’d managed to find a table and place their drink order without any further earth-shattering revelations, an achievement Blanc could only attribute to a kind of mutual fugue state. “That would have been difficult, seeing as your phone number was disconnected within a month of our break up,” Blanc pointed out. His knee appeared to be jiggling of its own accord under the table, and he placed a hand on top of it in an ineffectual attempt to persuade it to cease and desist. “I shouldn’t have thought that would have stopped you, if you’d really wanted to get in touch. You’re a detective, after all. You could just…detect.” “Oh, for the love of—” “Would anyone like something to eat?” Phillip interjected, looking around for their waiter. “What about a nice cheese platter?”

*lies

cc: @mi6-cafe

#mi6cafewipwednesday #wip wednesday #my fic #smoke gets in your eyes #knives out #glass onion #benoit blanc #phillip #benoit blanc and phillip

[milkwithginseng]

I’m back with a second WIP Wednesday on the trot, with another grown-up Mathilde snippet. Except this time it's from a fic where she goes off to uni and encounters a Bondian scheme by one of her professors bc I grew up the Young Bond novels and I just think they're neat. Will I ever complete it? Probably not but I’m having fun writing it.

‘Spare me the patronising tone, Miss Bond. Turing used his incredible brain to aid the war effort, there are no clean hands.’

‘His work saved millions of lives. The war would’ve dragged on for years longer had he not cracked Enigma.’ 

Irritation bubbled over in Claiborne’s eyes, ‘It was the Poles who cracked Enigma. You really should’ve paid more attention in my lectures, Bond.’ 

Mathilde grimly noted the use of the past tense. This must have been what had happened to Nathan Richards. He must have found out about the zero day attack too and Claiborne had him murdered for it. Now it looked like Mathilde would suffer the same fate. ‘Turing did refine the decryption, I’ll admit that. But what about Babbage and his Difference Engine?’

‘What about it?’ She said with equal frustration as she fruitlessly struggled against the restraints pinning her wrists to the chair. ‘He never got a chance to make it.’ 

‘Imagine that he had. He intended it to be used to calculate the financial assets of the British Empire. Its conquests, its wars, its plunder. At least tell me you know where the word computer comes from?’

If Claiborne was affording her the chance to play the smart Alec she decided she might as well take it, she didn’t want to show how frightened she really was. ‘From Latin, via the French. To determine together through reason.’

‘By jove, she does know something. You see Miss Bond, I reason all this technological advancement, all this progress in the end it has always been used to do what humans have always done. This is power as its most pure. I’m just staking my claim.’ 

‘That’s it? The miracle of technology and it all comes down to making algorithms to decide who to kill and how to do it most efficiently? And make yourself a little more rich in the process? You’re a monster, sir.’

If Claiborne was wounded by her words he didn’t show it save for the brusqueness with which he spoke his next utterance. ‘I do believe this tutorial is at an end, Miss Bond. I truly am sorry it has to end this way, you really were a very promising student.’ 

It's doubly fun to write a villain 😁 I'm imagining Claiborne as Samuel West because he did such a marvellous job as Sir Hugo Drax in the radio play of Moonraker and he is delightfully devilish as Peter Judd in the Slow Horses tv series.

@mi6-cafe

#james bond #mathilde swann #mi6cafewipwednesday #fanfic

[hammerbacks]

wip wednesday:

finally added a little bit more to chapter 9 of warm water after what must be months of being stuck with it! @mi6-cafe

The whole evening has been excellent. Her time with James right here, in her bedroom – well, and the shower too – arguably matches and probably actually betters all of the other nights they’ve spent together. It’s evident in the absolute tiredness that appears to have settled in her bones, because if she had her way, she’d stay right here at the edge of the bed for the foreseeable future regardless of whether or not James was by her side. 

She shifts ever so slightly to get more comfortable, but something warm wraps around her middle and moves her before she can protest. 

“You’re going to fall off if you’re not careful.” James’ voice in her ear sends tingles shooting through her but when she leans back to rest her head against the pillow, it meets something much more solid. Turning her head to the side, her cheek presses against warmth and it takes her a few seconds to realise that she’s leaning on James’ bare chest. 

Trying not to move back too fast, she reluctantly accepts that there’s no chance of wriggling out of this one. This is by no means an ordinary move for James either, but that’s definitely because she’s never given him a chance to do it. After the first few times they’d slept together – not including the first night after Felix and Della’s wedding – they had cleaned up in the shower together, with James being quick to get dressed straight afterwards and leave her in peace. He didn’t need to tell her that it was out of respect for what they’d agreed: that was obvious enough already, but she couldn’t help but notice the slightly pained look in his eyes as he watched her crawl into her pyjamas. 

Things changed the night that she accidentally slept over at his flat. 

She can still hear his words from the morning after ringing in her head – “you fell asleep in my arms!” – and there’s a strange feeling running through her as she realises that he was right.  It’s all coming back to her again: the same pleasant warmth of his body; his arms wrapped tightly around her waist; thinking to herself that she’d already let a few other things slide for the sake of some much-needed comfort, so why not just allow them both to have this moment as well? Worst of all, she’d actually enjoyed it, too – she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept with a man this beautiful and hadn’t swapped his bed for the comfort and safety of her own company as soon as possible afterwards.

#wip wednesday #mi6cafewipwednesday #j x k #fic: warm water #james bond #oc: kate llewelyn #this still needs tweaking a bit but i'm getting there!! finally!

[verdigrissoup]

A WIP I cannot remember if I've shared or not for @mi6-cafe's WIP Wednesday, as I slowly crawl back into my beloved story of The Promises We Must Keep.

“There’s something about you, something different.” Bond said, giving Q a look.

“A near death experience tends to do that to a person.”

“Just one?” Bond raised an eyebrow, giving a low laugh. “No, it’s not that.”

He sounded so sure when he said it, but Q wasn’t so sure himself. It was not Bond’s body they were talking about, but Q’s. He only looked at Bond, his eyes narrowed. 

“You concuss a man and whisk him away to some faerie lair, and often he comes back a different person.”

“Do you crave it?” Bond asked, stepping forward and giving Q a searching look. 

“The apple?” Q asked, confused at such a sudden shift. Bond tilted his head at the answer, something changing very briefly in his eye. 

“Mmm.” Bond said, neither confirming or denying. 

“Sometimes.” Q said. He was no longer talking about the apple. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that for a brief flash, Bond bit his lip. “Sometimes my mind wanders and I go back to that moment.”

“It’s a bold thing to admit a weakness like that.”

“And you?” Q pushed. He was always the one to push.

“It has been a long time since I craved the fruit of my home.” He did not miss it when Bond bit his lip the second time. Something tugged sharply at the bottom of Q’s stomach. Maybe that tug came lower. 

“Why?”

“Masochism, likely.” Bond was closer, now, having moved slowly enough that Q hadn’t realized it. He was only a step away, his face now closer than Q realized. “Have we not always craved what will hurt us most?”

#mi6cafewipwednesday #wip #soup's writing #thoughtsfromtheprimordialsoup

[patrice-bergerons]

WIP Wednesday

An excerpt from the 00Q Excel fic for this WIP Wednesday.  They say write what you love, which in this instance and combined with my COVID has created a monster, I’m afraid!

“I thought Excel was beyond your domain.”

His voice was so close to Q’s ear, it gave him goosebumps.  The first time Q had heard it like this—not a clear but distant presence on the comms or ringing across a room, but a living, breathing thing that purred against the soft skin of his neck—he’d felt as if he’d been entrusted with some great secret about the universe, foolish as the sentiment was.

“Not beyond, below,” he replied, bone-deep frustration battling the hot breath that ghosted against his neck.  That never stopped Bond from being the prick that he was, however.

“Come now, Q, there is no need to be bitter just because even your knowledge has gaps.”

Ha!

“Excel is what people who are too stupid or too lazy to learn an actual coding language use to trick themselves into believing they matter,” Q huffed before he could think about it.  “It’s rudimentary, it’s byzantine, and it crashes more frequently than the cars I give you.”

@mi6-cafe​

#wip wednesday #mi6cafewipwednesday #00q #my fic #completely against my will MS Excel turned into a symbol for #attitudes towards intelligence and grief and guilt and what it means to love someone #and it is WILD #i also worked v hard on that insult to Excel and am proud hshsh #esp as this is v much so a pro-Excel household lol

[thestalwartheart]

WIP Wednesday

From a fic that's gone from 0 words to 5000 in two days. The summary goes like this: It’s how Q travels: through his agents. And there’s one agent only too happy to show him the world. Or, the fic where I fell down a Geoguessr rabbit hole years too late and thought Q would be really good at it, so I made it a game for the agents to send him photos and for him to guess where they were.

The agents like to test him in their downtime by taking pictures of floor tiles or seemingly featureless hills and asking him to guess where they are. He hasn’t lost a round to them yet, and it’s thrilling, being able to do something they can’t. Impressing them with a trick or two never gets old.

There is one agent, however, who is rather more difficult to impress, at least with this.

The view from Bond’s contact lens camera is splendid, and Q (not for the first time) is thankful for the amount of work his department put into ensuring its high resolution. It's an excellent thing for facial recognition and sunset views alike.

After a beat, Q murmurs, “The sandbank. You’re on Mnemba Island.”

It’s an easy guess. Too easy. He knows Bond’s just offed a man at The Palms Resort, not two hours away. He’s probably waiting for sundown before he commandeers a boat and leaves Zanzibar for the next leg of the mission.

“You’ll have to try harder next time, Bond.”

“Sorry?”

Q takes a sip of tea. “The geolocation game? That was hardly a challenge. 004 sent me a picture of a rock on a dirt road last week. Took me forever to narrow it down to Latvia, and even that was a lucky guess. It could well have been Estonia.”

Bond’s camera goes dark for a few seconds as he shuts his eyes.

“Q, what the hell are you talking about?”

@mi6-cafe

#00q #james bond #my fic #mi6cafewipwednesday #wip wednesday

[luminiferocity]

WIP Wednesday

From the start of a long NTTD fix-it slow burn for @mi6-cafe WIP Wednesday. Let Me Count the Ways What if Bond crashes Q’s date that night and never bloody leaves.

“There’ll be other fish, Q.”

He’s about to complain, but I want that fish, but what a ridiculous thing to say, and furthermore what a surprising reveal, even to himself.

Avoiding the personal route, Q shifts tack to match Bond’s goading.

“I bet you can’t name five things that make me an attractive option.” Q cocks his head, as if considering Bond. “We can’t all seduce our way to as long a trail of broken lovers as you. Even at your advanced age.”

Q thinks Bond is incapable of actually being offended, hence why he feels safe to throw aspersions his way. Indeed, Bond’s eyes register surprise, then they crinkle in amusement.

“I bet you I can name six.”

“Hmm?”

“Six reasons why our dear Quartermaster is a catch. Number one, you’re incredibly charming.”

The remark should sting, but Q likewise is used to not allowing any jabs from Bond to land. Besides, Bond is laughing freely now, a rare sound that makes any sparring contest worthwhile. Q forces a haughty expression, though he assumes his own amusement is obvious enough.

#james bond #quartermaster #00q #mi6cafewipwednesday #let me count the ways #my stuff

[mi6-cafe]

It’s WIP Wednesday!

Post a line or three from a current WIP, and then tag @mi6-cafe so we can find and reblog it!

OR you can reblog this post with your WIP excerpt!

All ships, fandoms, and WIPs are welcome.

#MI6CafeWIPWednesday

[aniron48]

It's WIP Wednesday!

If multiverse theory is real, maybe there is a universe in which, once I got the barest silver of an idea about a series of fics based on Carly Rae Jepsen songs, that I nonetheless decided not to go through with it.

This is not that universe.

The following is an excerpt from "Bad Thing Twice," the first in that series. Finished work to include the meticulous undoing of buttons, decisions made under the influence of interminable budget meetings, and James Bond's slowly dawning realization that he is what might be termed a cardigan-sexual. Excerpt below the cut

It would never have happened, if it weren’t for the cardigan.

Q had become increasingly partial to them, since he’d been made Quartermaster. He had so little armor, otherwise, against the bureaucratic monster that ground so many of its best and brightest to bits. He was the youngest department head in history, and he had no illusions about the skepticism that had surrounded his appointment. He’d come from nowhere, an enfant terrible who’d quickly outstripped anything his university tutors could teach him, and been snatched up by the government in large part simply to keep the private sector from getting their hands on him. He’d risen through the ranks at MI6 on his merit alone, a shocking proposition in a system where it sometimes seemed that the primary qualification for any position was simply being the mediocre nephew of someone of middling importance. Q, in contrast, had neither wealth nor connections. There were no Ministers waiting to grant a favor for the promise of one in return, no Members of Parliament who’d taken an interest in his career, benevolent or otherwise.

There was only Q, and his astonishing brain, and his steady heart—and his impeccable cardigans, buttoned up against the world.

cc: @mi6-cafe

#mi6cafewipwednesday #00q #wip #my fic #Bad Thing Twice #carly rae jepsen #cardigans

[samanthahirr]

‘Call Me Darling, I Come Running’ , please

Dearest anon, thanks for this ask for the WIP Game! YES, I am so excited to share about my latest 00Q fic, which is very nearly ready for posting!

I've been playing around with cover art, so here's a sneak peek:

Call Me Darling, I Come Running

Summary: On a quiet night off in London, Bond receives a mysterious text to come to Q’s aid. But just what kind of trouble is Q in? And why does he require Bond to pose as his boyfriend?

Here's an excerpt:

Q opens his front door, very-much alive and just a touch wild-eyed, still wearing the same jumper he'd worn in the office that morning. “Oh, James, did you not get my text?” he says loudly for the benefit of someone else.

Hand hovering near his holster, James pushes past Q into the front room…where a young woman sits on a sofa, looking teary and anxious. Not an obvious, immediate threat, but he doesn’t like the way she looks James up and down, measuring him for something. “Did I?” James asks, turning back to Q. “I’m sorry, darling. I must’ve forgot to turn my mobile back on after my meeting. I see you have a guest; I’ll just drop this off, leave you two to catch up—”

Q pulls him into a kiss, one hand on the back of James’s head to hold him still, and James instinctively tightens his grip on the takeaway bag to counteract his surprise. His senses, already on high alert, zero in on soft lips, light stubble, and the scents of orange and bergamot. Even as he’s impressed by Q’s boldness and how directly he’s illustrating the degree of intimacy he expects from James’s role this evening, James can’t help enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

Q pulls back and smiles at him, an open and earnest expression that erases the creases of exhaustion Q’s worn of late. Not that James has been paying attention to the quartermaster’s looks—of course not. He’s merely observant, that’s all.

“No no,” Q says, hand stroking down James’s cheek to land on James’s chest, the gesture familiar, comfortable. “You’re here now. I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

I'll call this my WIP Wednesday post for @mi6-cafe, just a few hours early! And the story itself is complete and Brit-picked, just a few final edits to make. Thanks again for the ask, anon!

#00q #ask meme answers #mi6cafewipwednesday

[tales-of-whales]

i'm writing a one-chapter (hopefully) thing with Q/Moneypenny as the main pairing because i think they'd be hilarious together, and there's too little of it out there. i tried to write Teen and Up, but my hardship was futile. i just think smut helps so much with the writing of a character.

in this, Q is color-blind and a bit of a disaster, Eve is super-cool, and Bond is an enormous ass (they love him anyway).

@mi6-cafe

Regardless of his condition, Q rides a cab with Eve to make sure she reaches her place safely. They climb the stairs on the fourth floor because an elevator never works, and she drags him inside. “You need some water and then coffee. I won’t put the Quartermaster of MI-6 in the cab alone when he’s so pissed.” “Probably wise.” She heads to the kitchen without taking hills off. Her place is in ruins anyway. Q stays in the hall. Somehow, he knows she dislikes letting people in her chaotic place. Or maybe it’s just his manners. “Come here, darling. Don’t bother with shoes.” He shuffles into the kitchen and comes to take a glass of water from Eve, who stands beside the sink, leaning on the counter. They drink up. Q moves to put a glass on the counter, skimming a hand along Eve’s hip casually. Eve waits until the glass is safely on the counter, smirking. “You should have your jumper back. Though it’s a nice one.” “It’s because you helped me choose it. What colour is it you say?” He takes the jumper by the hem and helps her out of it. “Mustard yellow,” she answers and puts a hand on the back of his neck while he fusses over the collar of her blouse. “Uh… Eve?” he looks at her, a deer caught in headlights. She scratches him lightly under the collar of his shirt. “With all this mess, it’s been almost two months since I had sex. And celibacy is really harmful for me.” It occurred to her it might be a good idea to bang a Quartermaster after he caught a bullet. He’s five years younger than her but more mature than most of the men she knew in her life. And he’s pretty, that whimsical hair, twinkling eyes, and loony smile. She hopes that because of his ability to think, they won’t risk making it awkward if it doesn’t work. And make it as beneficial as possible if it will. “Unless you’re gay and not telling me this?” “No! I’m not. Have you seen yourself? Even if I were, it wouldn't have mattered.”

#MI6CafeWIPWednesday

[hammerbacks]

wip wednesday:

part of a warm water 'verse fic, where james can't quite get his head around the very obvious reason why he's suddenly gone off honeytrap assignments. @mi6-cafe

He’s also beginning to wonder if this is M’s cruel way of testing him. It’s ridiculous to assume that his boss doesn’t know that he’s spending a lot of his evenings at home in bed with someone – he’s been chastised for this frequently, way before he met Kate – so James wouldn’t put it past him to have somehow found out that he’s been fucking the Prime Minister’s young, blonde Treasury Private Secretary for quite a while now. That could come from any one of M’s variety of sources: Tanner, perhaps (since he’s the only one James has confided in about this), or one of the network of agents whose sole purpose is to know every inch of the Double Os’ movements when they’re at home, so that they can be summoned in any emergency. Come to think of it, they probably know Kate’s phone number off by heart like he does – only with the intention of using it in one of the select few scenarios that requires the in-depth confession he dreads, where he admits to her what he really gets up to on those secretive meetings abroad. 

Still, he isn’t entirely sure if the reason for this feeling that’s slowly been crawling through him is that he’s just getting too long in the tooth for all of this. He meant every word of what he said to Saunders in the car during the botched attempt at getting Koskov out of Bratislava, and he’s lost count of the amount of times he’s questioned M’s decision to have him back at MI6 after he ensured that Sanchez was stopped for good. 

The dull moments in his job often outweigh the temporary thrills – he’s been aware of that since the moment he accepted the role as a Double O – but could he finally be beginning to seriously consider giving it all up? 

The only snag is that he hasn’t got a clue what he’d do outside of this. There’s always the possibility of going back to the Navy, though that would still involve being away from home for months at a time, with nothing but the sea and his crew for company. The Civil Service has always been the go-to for retired agents, but it’s no use for someone like him who has minimal tolerance for spending hours upon end in an office every single day, forcing himself to smile through gritted teeth at the self-righteousness of politicians who think that because an idea has gone down well at their club, it’s a guaranteed winner with the public and will also guarantee them a promotion in the next Cabinet reshuffle. 

He’ll have to put up with this for a while longer.

#wip wednesday #mi6cafewipwednesday #james bond #j x k #fic: warm water #oc: kate llewelyn