no-shame-November

So this was meant to be a purely self indulgent fluffy drabble for No Shame November, but it sort of took on a slightly more serious tone. (But there IS still fluff! Don’t worry!) I’ve been playing with the headcanon that Q suffers from major depression and anxiety and have been meaning to write something for a while now. Given the state of mind I’ve been in myself for the past few days I thought it a good opportunity to express the struggle.

I’m way too tired to come up with a title right now, but when I do I’ll be posting this on AO3 as well. Enjoy!

It was mid afternoon and Q was lying in bed, a familiar heaviness in his chest having sapped him of all energy and motivation. He’d gotten up that morning to have breakfast with James before he left for his debrief. Everything was fine; James groused about having to go in and Q chided him to just bloody get it over with so they could go on about their weekend. James said something cheeky and pulled him in for a kiss, then he was out the door. It was just after he’d left that the heaviness set in, like it had been lurking in the shadows, waiting until he was alone. He took a shower and slipped into a clean pair of pajamas before deciding to return to his bed where it was warm and quiet and the sheets still smelled like James. He’d been disinclined to move ever since.

The cats, it seemed, had disappeared to some other part of the house, likely seeking some sun warmed spot to nap, leaving Q alone in his room, stretched across the bed. He was grateful that it was Saturday. He didn’t have the energy to so much as get up and look for the cats, let alone go into the office and put forth that air of put-together-ness he always did when he wasn’t at his best. Still, he hated feeling like this. No matter how many good days he had the bad days always outweighed them, making him feel like a failure. And James still didn’t know.

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No Shame November is a go!

At least, I will be participating.  The premise is as follows:

New proposition for a monthly challenge:  No-Shame November, where we all post the most self-indulgent fanworks we can muster and then pat each other on the back for it.  (And we realize how many other people appreciate the same “shameful” tropes we do.) [x]

And it doesn’t have to be filthy smut or anything like that–just anything that shamelessly caters to what you like.  Maybe it’s really schmoopy found families doodles!  Maybe it’s brutal whumpfic.  Maybe it’s that time you filled your own kinkmeme prompt and then were too ashamed to post it.  Anything goes as long as you’re into it, and share it without judging yourself or others.

4

heyy since it’s no shame november does this mean i can post my incredibly self indulgent au…….. ok good

ok so in all honesty wild times always reminded me of tiana’s palace and at first it was just for fun but then i got reeeally invested heheeee,,,, (also yes judy is naveen in case you were wondering bppt) hope you enjoy because i might draw more of this

also trish drew this au too so you guys should check that out because it’s a really good drawing

Give me the tea or bad things will happen

Summary: Q isn’t going to stand for Bond’s extortion. He might climb for it, though.

Notes: A huge thank you to @isthisrubble for her eagle-eyed beta-ing; among other things, Bond and Q would be positioned much more vaguely in your minds without her.


Bond breaking into his home was one thing.

Q had had Bond’s DNA and retinal ID entered into the scanners after the second visit. After the third, he had started bullying Bond into sitting down at his solder-stained kitchen table to play Scrabble with him, and had watched with increasing entertainment as Bond drunkenly tried to argue for the inclusion of slang and foreign vocabulary on the board.  

(For his part, Bond let himself be bullied, shared the top-shelf booze he brought with him, and got handsy as a last resort persuasive tactic.)  

Bond breaking into his home and stealing his tea was something else. Apparently, the handsiness had been Bond’s second-to-last resort.

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