#mshit

Happy 40th Birthday, Ben Whishaw! (October 14, 1980)

(please click for better quality)

MAMA, did u watched ElyXiOn or what? Our concept is cool right? 🙄👎

Hes so cute what was he even doing

00Q + text posts (ft. pining!Q)

“Do you make it a general rule to ignore your customers, or am I just special?” The man asks, and gosh, Q’s never seen eyes that blue before. Like a Great Forget-Me-Not, and Q has never before appreciated how aptly named those little flowers are. The man gives him a knowing smile, and Q realizes he’s been staring a hair too long. “Oh - well - Most people just pick what they think is prettiest. It doesn’t require a lot of input from me.” The man walks up to Q, leaning against the counter between them. “Well then, what can I do to get your input?”

Bond should know better by now. He’s old enough to know the signs when a no-strings-attached affair becomes something more, and he’s old enough to know better when it’s him that is responsible for it. At the same time, he’s too old to pretend like he doesn’t care, that he doesn’t want this. That’s a young man’s game, after all. So Bond might be breaking his own rules, but for once he doesn’t mind. It’s been just over a month since this thing started, but already Bond feels more at home in Q’s flat than he does in his own. He finds himself looking forward to sleeping in the same bed every night, beside the same person, knowing that he’ll wake up in the same place, with the same arms round him. It’s something that Bond never thought would be in the cards for him. But now he thinks things might be different. Q might be one of the few people in the world who truly understands him, someone he doesn’t have to lie to, someone he can trust in a profession where trust is hard earned and scarce given. Bond isn’t about to get his hopes up too quickly, but he’s not about to shut this down before it starts, either. So he stays when he knows that Q thinks he won’t and there is something about Q’s smile that tells him yes, this is where he’s meant to be.

After a few sips, Q says, “M — our M —won’t let you sleep,” just to make sure his tea-infused mind hears the same thing his tea-deprived mind had. “So it would seem,” Bond answers. “And this isn’t some joke… some Friday-the-13th prank you’re playing on me?” Bond scrubs his face with his hand, scratching at the stubble. “Sadly, no. Are you going to report me?” “To whom?” “Medical? Recommend a psych exam?” Bond looks resigned. Even he seems to know that this is not normal, nor remotely okay. And yet, Bond seems himself, albeit with lower defenses that usual. After careful consideration, Q answers, “Nooo. I think not. I think I’ll send you to the gym for a shower and hope you have a spare suit and razor down there, so that you can attend your debrief with M — current M — in your usual bespoke form. And then I want you back in my office at half five. I should be ready by then.” “Ready?” he asks cautiously. “To investigate whatever is happening in your flat.” “So…so you believe me?” Q hedges. “I can’t say I accept your explanation of events, but I do believe you that something is happening. And it’s affecting your work and occurring in a space I authorized as safe for habitation. As long as you’re comfortable with me coming to your home tonight, I’d like a chance to suss it out.”