#tuxedos may make me look masculine- BUT AT LEAST NO ONE CAN SEE UNDER MY SKIRT OR ALL THAT WEIRD SHIT

[eveanderland34]

One thing to know about me. Iss That i literally fucking hate dresses

Like- THEY MAKE ME FEEL SO VULNERABLE?? I hate it. Fuck dresses. I want a tuxedo.

[tiergan-vashir]

Hi. Just want to thank you for being open about your experiences. Seeing your posts is part of what made me think about whether I’m actually cis or not. Idk what to call myself because I never questioned myself until now, mostly because I’ve always been called a pretty girl (sorry that that sounds arrogant) and figured that’s what I should be. But recently I started thinking about things I did as a kid or even stories I wrote. And I realized that before I even I guess knew the pressures of (1/4)

Hey Anon! I’m going to put my response to you under a cut, because it’s quite long, but I hope it might help and be of some use to you on your journey with your gender.

I think the most useful thing a friend has ever told me when it came to gender is that “Cis people don’t really think about it.”  Cis women don’t typically sit and yearn or dream of being a different gender, wearing a different gender’s clothes with a different gender’s body. If you’re worrying or even considering that the gender you were assigned at birth might not be the gender you truly are - I think that’s something worthy of giving some space and putting some time into in order to explore and discover the different parts of yourself.

If you do all that exploration and internal reflection and decide in the end, that you really are cis after all - then at least you reaffirmed it for yourself and maybe learned some new things about yourself along the way that can lead to greater creativity and self-expression.  But if you realise you’re not cis, you can start walking down a path to even more self-acceptance and self-discovery.

When it comes to gender dysphoria and whether or not you may have it, I would say that sometimes people have set notions on what gender dysphoria is and completely miss that they’ve been experiencing it at all. There’s actually different types of gender dysphoria and different folks experience them in different ways (or not at all. For example, someone might feel physically dysphoric but not socially or vice versa).  I would also try to look out for instances of gender euphoria, which can also be a telling sign.

In my personal experience, I didn’t know being nonbinary was an even option until just a few years ago.  After that, I still doubted my gender, because when it came to dysphoria, literally all the stories I’d ever heard were ones where trans folks were so powerfully dysphoric that living life as their assigned birth gender was absolutely unbearable.

Because I’d never heard anything different, I thought that being in a constant, state of overwhelming suffering was mandatory part of the trans experience before you transition and that if you weren’t utterly miserable, depressed, or suicidal as a pre-transition trans person, it meant you were cis. Period. I had no idea at the time that dysphoria can actually come in different forms (social and physical) and can come in varying degrees of strength. 

This youtube video is the best way I’ve ever heard someone describe how I personally also have experienced gender dysphoria, which is as an ever present ‘hum’.  Background noise that is so constant that you start to not hear it anymore, because it’s always there. Being referred to by she/her pronouns didn’t really bug me (though that’s changed now if I can tell someone’s intentionally trying to misgender me). I don’t HATE my body. I just feel a little awkward about it and don’t really like looking at it all that much - but I thought that was kinda normal for anyone who wasn’t a super model.  I hated most women’s clothing for most of my life, but I just kinda thought I just didn’t like fashion. I could live as a woman if I had to, even if I sometimes found myself wishing and dreaming (both figuratively and literally) I was a tall handsome man instead.

Meanwhile, just like that video above also describes: gender euphoria was like a bell.�� This bright, short-lived flash of happiness and joy.  Every time someone referred to me as he/his OOC, I felt this burst of happiness and excitement.  Every time I saw pictures online of androgynous people or women that could dress so masculinely people mistook them for men, I felt a joyful rush. (The Kpop singer Amber had me obsessed for weeks. I thought I had a crush on her, until I realised I straight up wished I could BE her, because so many people mistook her for a boy in a girl’s band.)

There were several times in the past where I low-key avoided telling people what my gender was IRL when I played as male characters in other games, because I wanted to spend just a little more time getting to enjoy people calling me by male pronouns OOC.  And when I was a young teenager RPing male characters, I straight up lied to my RP buddy and told them I was a boy, crafting this whole other persona of this tall, handsome male version of myself.  I liked being seen as a boy so much that I didn’t want to ruin the illusion of it.

Unfortunately, this backfired when this RP buddy and I became very close and they eventually wanted to visit me IRL.  I spent hours trying on my brother’s clothes, and then burst into tears, because my body was all wrong and I just could not pass as male at all.  It was the strongest gender dysphoria I’d ever felt in my life.

I feel like that should probably have been the moment I realised I wasn’t quite cis, but I didn’t even know what ‘transgender’ or ‘nonbinary’ was at that time. And even when I did learn it was a thing, living as a girl/woman wasn’t CONSTANT SUSTAINED SUFFERING to me, so the thought that I might not be cis didn’t even register.

It was instead the repeated, consistent bursts of gender euphoria over the years that eventually made me question myself and my gender.  Noticing again and again how much more ecstatic and joyful I felt when seeing people who were visibly genderqueer or when people referred to me by he/him pronouns or just thought I was a man, really hit home.

Unfortunately, people don’t really talk about gender euphoria very much at all when it comes to the trans experience, just about the suffering.  Even now, I still sometimes get hit with bursts of “but is it really enough? have I suffered enough to earn this label? Am I a ‘transtrender’?”  Sometimes the joy and happiness at being gendered correctly is also a really good sign.

The funny thing is, once I realised I wasn’t a cis woman, I was able to re-examine traditionally feminine things see how I felt about them.  Like I mentioned in another post, I used to HATE and feel frustrated by make-up. Now I love it and deeply enjoy it now that I feel like it’s about my own self-expression instead of me doing something because it’s what women are supposed to do.  I discovered I love long, elaborate earrings and want to wear those things regularly  While I generally prefer more androgynous clothing, there are a few very feminine pieces of clothing I really like (and some that make me so dysphoric I yeeted them into the trash).

On the flipside, I also found out I really, really fucking love suits and want to look and feel powerful in one. I want several masculine-cut vests, and ties as soon as I find ones I like that actually fit me. I love anything that minimizes the existence of my boobs and want to fine more masculine footwear (though that’s hard, because I have tiny feet).  I tossed most of my bras out and replaced them with bralettes.  And I love blending the masculine and feminine together.  I was ecstatic when a friend told me that I achieved Peak Gender Confusion Inducement with my new haircut. Seeing Billly Porter in his gown + tuxedo jacket combo made my heart fucking sing.

I feel really free and empowered to be more myself than I have in a long time. And I hope, if anything else, your exploration helps you find that in yourself too regardless of what your gender winds up being in the end.

Hope this helps! Sorry this was so long.

[mi6-cafe]

00Q LDWS Drabbles: Week Two!

Here are the drabbles for the second week of the MI6 Cafe’s 00Q Last Drabble Writer Standing competition!

Prompt: “I must be dreaming”   Genre: AU Word count: up to 300 words 

Voters–after you read, check out this form to vote for your top three drabbles! You can also leave anonymous feedback for the writers! Who can vote? Anyone who’s read the drabbles! Yes, that includes YOU!  

Writers–you may also vote, but we do ask that you vote for three drabbles other than your own.  

The voting period ends on Monday at 9am PDT / 12pm EDT / 4pm UTC.

Remember, readers–it’s up to you to decide who will wind up on top at the end of the competition!

Drabbles are under the read-more:

#1

Title: Legendary Author: @beaubete Warnings: none Summary: Hyrule?  What?

He wakes to the press of gentle heat along his back, both soothing and startling--Bond could have sworn he'd gone to bed alone.  The body behind him shifts, an arm creeping over his ribcage to scratch fingers playfully across his chest.  Blunt, square fingernails--masculine fingernails.

"It's early yet."  The crisp, sweet vowels--

"Q?" Bond boggles.  "I must be dreaming."  Q's laughter is wry.

"Were you expecting someone else?"  Kisses, then, between his shoulder blades as Bond rolls to face him.  Q's fingertips skate lightly, down and over his abdomen, and Bond tries not to flinch as they scratch idly at his pubic hair, trace sure and confident trails up the inside of his thighs as though the terrain is familiar to them.

They are in a rustic building--a cabin?--of some sort, piled into a bed that's heaped with linen and folksy blankets, and.  And that's all Bond really gets to notice beyond the sparkling mischief in Q's eyes as he tosses him off in slow, perfectly measured strokes.  Before he can quite catch his breath he's groaning, straining against Q's thin limbs, spilling over his palm and Q rubbing it into his skin sticky and cooling.  After that, it seems only natural to take Q's mouth in a kiss, those plush red lips wet with laughter; Q squirms against him, ruts his hand, and sighs when he's done.

The world outside their little haven is stunning.  He follows behind Q as he gathers mushrooms and apples; strange, hulking creatures appear at one point and threaten them with spiked clubs and Q pins them neatly to the dirt with little arrows.  When the last dies, a chest appears--

"Opal again," Q grouses, and Bond cracks an eyelid.  "You snore," Q adds, smug.

"Do not."  On the screen, Link saves the princess.

#2

Title: Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire Author: @gwylliondream  Warning: None Summary: A nightmarish evening turns out to be better than expected.

Q opened his eyes when the morning light slid beneath the curtain. He shifted his legs against the warm blankets that pinned him to the bed. His limbs heavy, his throat felt like he had swallowed knives.

Without his glasses, he struggled to define the shape of things in the room. A chair. The doorway. The machine that beeped at regular intervals and hissed out a mechanical breath.

He didn't expect to see the stranger asleep in a chair at his bedside.

Amber sunrise caressed the rugged face. His lips parted as he slept, a smudge of soot staining his cheek. His firefighter’s boots rooted him to the floor.

Q remembered the fire.

His eyes pricked with tears when he realized what he had lost. His belongings could be replaced. His projects, photos, and music were safely stored in the cloud.

But Schrodinger, his cat… gone.

Q remembered how he fought through the line of firefighters to get back into his flat. He called for the cat, but soon he was gasping for air and inhaling smoke.

The sleeping man yawned and opened his eyes.

Q recognized the firefighter who had dragged him out of his flat.

“I’m sorry. I must have dozed off. How are you feeling, sir?” he asked.

��I’m—I,” Q tried to speak, but his throat ached.

“Don’t strain yourself. I’m Sergeant Bond, James Bond,” he said, taking Q’s hand. “Chief Mallory wanted me to make sure you were well taken care of.”

Q gave Bond’s hand a squeeze.

“Oh, and we’ve got your cat at the station,” Bond said. “We gave him a bit of oxygen and he was good as new.”

A gorgeous firefighter at his bedside. A safe cat. Q let his head loll on the pillow and rasped out, “I must be dreaming.”

#3

Title: Artifice  Author: @00qtpie Warnings: None Summary: Bond is a scientist and Q is a robot with artificial intelligence.

The research lab was quiet in the early hours of the morning. Long grey corridors stretched out in front of him like a mausoleum, the lights flickering to life with a low fluorescent hum. James liked this time of day, when everything was dark and quiet, and Q was still asleep in the laboratory.

The scientist swiped his ID in at a large, stainless steel set of doors. There was a mechanical whirr as the doors opened to admit him. Bond flicked a switch and the lights buzzed to life. He could make out Q’s still form from under the white sheet that covered him. A cluster of wires snaked from underneath the sheet, connected into a large computer beside him.

Bond turned back the sheet carefully. Q’s face was slack in his sleep mode. He looked almost startlingly human like this, but his skin was cold and too-pliant under his fingers. Bond touched his cheek lightly, running his thumb over the outcropping of his lower lip, only to feel him twitch beneath his fingers, eyelids fluttering. Bond recoiled immediately.

He was perfectly motionless for about fifteen seconds before it happened again: his fingers twitched. He shouldn’t turn him on without the lead scientists present, but…

“Q, wake up.” Bond instructed. Q’s dark eyes flicked open slowly, almost tiredly, and he shifted to rise from the table, metal joints clinking.

Q met his gaze in surprise. “Bond? …I think I must be dreaming.”

“Dreaming, Q?” Bond replied, incredulous. “What does a robot dream of?”

“Oh, anything he likes.”

“You’re not programmed to. I would know.”

“I am now. Or did you think you were the only one that could code?”

#4 

Title: The Trap Author: @1amvengeance  Warnings: n/a Summary:  Demons keep the wings of angels that they kill as a prize.

A voice spoke from the gloom surrounding the angel trap.  “To have caught an angel after so long, it’s been ages.”

Q stood defiantly, glaring, or at least, he thought he was glaring.  “I’m new.”

“I can smell that.  The stink of angel hasn’t sunk in yet, your wings smell fresh.”

“A small comfort, to know that I don’t offend your olfactory system.  I hadn’t thought demons to be so delicate in nature.”  Q spread his wings, testing the bounds of the angel trap.

“You won’t be able to escape.”

Q sighed, “There’s always a way out.  It just depends on what form it takes.  Ow.”  The tip of Q’s wing hit the barrier.  “Ow.”  

“You’re a strange angel.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

“I didn’t take it as such.”  Q walked to where he thought the edge of the trap was, studying it.  “Hmmmm.”  He looked over his shoulder, the demon, wrapped in all black, came around to study him.  The demon's eyes burned blue, his hair bright, like a fading star.  Q let out a little sigh.  “You’re beautiful.”

“I must be dreaming.”

“Dreams, are subconscious wishes.”

The demon knelt down in front of Q, his movements full of dark promises.  “A dream, a wish, you called me beautiful.”

Q’s eyes rolled, as his words were repeated.  “You’re more angelic looking than I am. Perhaps introductions are due?”

“James.”  The demon reached through the trap and lightly touched a wingtip.

“Q.”  He allowed the contact and considered James’s hand.  “Take my wings, kill me, if that’s your desire, if it brings you some form of happiness, but if you only want them for selfish reasons, I’ll fight you to the death for them.”

“Perhaps I desire a different fight.”

“You’re a strange demon.”

#5 

Title:  A Rose For My Rose Author: Flantastic/@iambid Warnings: None Summary:  A very public apology 

Q stood on the red carpet and faced the rank of photographers.  It should have been one of the best nights of his life. His first starring role. The great Gareth Mallory directing.  Critics had been raving from the very first teaser trailers.

He thought about James  They'd been together for two years but James, an ex-rugby international who now coached the England squad, wasn't out.  Q had pleaded with James to come to the premier with him, just as a friend, but he’d refused.   Q had lost his temper, upset with him.   He’d called James a coward before storming out in tears.

“Give us a smile!” one of the photographers shouted.   Q gave them one that was barely skin-deep.  Another minute and then he'd go and talk to the gaggle of fans waiting patiently for autographs and photos.

There was a commotion further down the red carpet and when Q looked he saw it was James, in a tuxedo and carrying a single red rose.  When he reached Q he handed it to him.

“James?”

James slipped hand around his waist and the other up into Q’s hair, cradling his head.

“I love you.”

Q was stunned as James lent over him slightly and pressed their lips together in a tender kiss.  There was chorus of screams from the fans and the flashes from all the cameras lit up the night sky.  He wound his arms up around James’s neck. When they broke it off Q murmured against his lips.

“I must be dreaming.”

“I'm so sorry darling.  I hurt you. I never wanted that.  You were right. I was a coward, I was scared, but I realised I’m so much more scared of losing you.   Forgive me?”

He kissed Q again for all the world to see.

#6 

Title: A World Turned Green Author: @amottledrose Warnings: none Summary: James trips and finds himself injured and in the Fae realm. One of the fair folk stops to help him. 

The face I see when I open my eyes is ethereal. Green eyes surrounded by silver tattoos that frame an angular face. The plush mouth is open in concentration that matches the look in his eyes. His hair is dark and swirls about his head, revealing pointed ears. 

"Don't move," he murmurs. His voice is lyrical, like music I can see. "I've only just stopped the bleeding." He holding a cloth to my temple, and the fall comes back all at once as pain radiates through my skull. I had gone to check the snares and tripped... but where am I?

"What-who are you?" My voice is hoarse, and I cough to clear it.

"I am Fae. My name is Q. And this is Tír na nÓg."

I blink. I close my eyes, breathe slowly, and open them again. He's still there, mouth quirking in proper amusement. "I must be dreaming."

"I assure you that you aren't." Q blows on his free hand, and I see a small ball of light spinning in his palm before he presses the light to my head. The throbbing pain ceases instantly, and I find I can sit up.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He's still staring at me, and I glance down at my tunic and trousers. His clothing is woven from leather and leaves. It rustles when he moves. "I've not met a human before."

"I haven't met one of the Fae before."

Q seems satisfied with my answer and he offers his hand. I take it and he pulls me to my feet. His size belies his strength. His touch is like lightning against my skin. "What's your name?" he asks. He's almost the same height as I am, and I meet his gaze as I reply. 

"Bond. James Bond."

#7 

Title: The Mafia Never Asks Twice Author: @timetospy Warnings: canon typical violence Summary: The year: 1928. The town: Chicago. Q and Bond lead a small crime syndicate.

It’s a cold night in February and snow falls in heavy flakes, melting as it hits the pavement.

My partner and I are well on our way to owning a chunk of the East side. Tonight could set us up to run half the city. We’ll be discussing business with the Outfit at Mallory’s place - the watering hole where we got our start. Q’ll stay upstairs. He’s never been much of a one for chit-chat but he can scheme better than the best. Lets me do all the talking. Says I’ve got the face for it. The flatterer.

I push my way through the kitchen doors into the dining room and stop dead.

Scarface Al Capone sits at a table, staring right at me, that scar on his cheek giving me the stink-eye. For a second I think I must be dreaming. But it’s really him. In the flesh.

“So you’re the famous ‘Dapper James’ Bond,” he says, fat lips curved into a dangerous smile.

“You found me,” I say and smirk right back.

He flicks his hand toward the guy standing behind him. The big guy pulls a tommy gun out of his overcoat, and I dive under a table.

Bullets shatter chairs and walls, and I fumble my Walther when I pull it out of my jacket. I manage to squeeze off six rounds at the big guy from behind the overturned table.

Dead silence.

I crawl out from behind the table and survey my handywork. Al’s facedown in a pool of his own blood and piss. Big guy’s staring, unseeing, at the ceiling.

Q busts in, panting hard.

“What the hell happened?”

“I think,” I say, shoving Al’s shoulder with my toe until he turns over, “I just killed the head of the Outfit.”

“Shit.”

#8 

Title: Under Moonlight Author: @jaimistoryteller Warning: none Summary: An unlikely meeting at the edge of a lake

His family had stopped by a beautiful lake for the evening. While the rest of them gathered around the fire talking and singing and enjoying each other's company, he had wandered off to sit beside the lake, almost drawn to the waters edge.

In the shimmering moonlight the water ripples as if there is something moving within it despite the fact he can't see anything. 

He stays where he is, transfixed by the sight of the water taking form, changing into that of a man. But that's impossible. Supernatural people do not just reveal themselves to normal humans. 

"I must be dreaming," he mutters as he rubs his eyes, making sure he's not hallucinating. 

"Why are you sitting on the waters edge?" the nymph asks curiously, still within the lake and staring at him with shimmering ice blue eyes. 

"You're real," he whispers, eyes wide as he studies the creature before him. 

"Of course I'm real, I'm as real as you or any other land walker." The man retorts, the hints of a smile playing at the edge of supple lips. 

"I don't understand," he comments, shaking his head so his dark curls dance. 

Moving closer the nymph replies, "I could feel you watching, the loneliness, the magic. Come swim with me."

It's not safe, he thinks, before thrusting that thought a side and standing up. No way is he getting his entire outfit wet. Quickly stripping down to nothing but his pants, he hesitates only a moment before slowly walking into the water. 

For hours they swim and play, never asking the other's name or questions about who the other is. They just enjoy each others presence. In the early dawn light the playfulness changes into something more and he finds himself kissed senseless by his nymph.

#9 

Title: What the Sea Leaves Unsaid Author: @azure7539arts Warnings: None Summary: Q's cruising trip uncovers more than he ever expected.

Q still doesn’t know what possessed him to agree to signing up for this cruise, but Eve can’t care less and is beyond gleeful. How making him her part-time model helps with any of her endeavors to climb up to fashion fame and trend, he can’t tell, but she insists that her followers are in love.

Even so, after a long while of unsuccessfully searching for a background without too many people in it on a Caribbean island, enough is enough, and Q decides to sneak away. Smoldering heat or not, he’s going to bloody enjoy his vacation. And Eve can use a nice cocktail to cool down at any rate… before she starts calculating ways to reduce the number of people through unnatural causes.

However, standing here in this deserted cove that isn’t even marked on the damning crumpled-up guide in his grip, he wonders if he should have left at all. If he wasn’t sure whether he had a sunstroke before, after wandering lost for more than an hour, he is now.

“I must be dreaming,” he whispers in bewilderment; for the man—creature—in front of his eyes can’t possibly be real. Tanned skin, broad shoulders, muscly body, and blond hair, the person sitting idly on that rock looks no different than any other regular human beings… until one spots the tail and its (magnificently) glittering scales where the legs should be.

Q curses; he can’t find any seams or indications that scream the tail is fake.

It makes no sense.

But he must have notified this… merman of his presence somehow because said merman turns—those eyes one of the most striking pairs of glacier blue Q has ever seen—to look at him, pauses, seeming inexplicably just as startled as Q feels right then, and breathes, “You came back.”

From the MI6 Cafe Mod:

Thank you to all of the writers for their wonderfully creative “I must be dreaming” AU drabbles! 

Readers and writers, don’t forget that you can vote and leave anonymous feedback on this week’s drabbles here!

EDIT: Voting is now closed! Thank you to all of our voters! <3